A stone’s throw (no, I’m not violent … or is it just… - what the heck am I on about??) away from the day when I passed that cold modernist building of the
Mormon HQ in London, I ran into a couple of Latter Day Saints in Cardiff. From
one outrageous heresy to another, they ended up inviting themselves to my place to try to mess me up. I boldly confirmed the
invitation and decided to do some missionary work myself and bring them back to
the Roman fold, or at least to the Christian and Trinitarian* fold.
The aim of turning around two psyched-up guys from the Wild West woud be a challnege even for Buffalo Bill, not to mention an elderly preacher with poor eyesight that shoots from the hip and tends to jump the gun. And the hellishly difficult effort involved could overwhelm a whole monastery-ful of Benedictines, not to mention a single lazy layman. So please
support me with your prayers (or crossed fingers, or whatever you fool yourself
with, if you’re heathen) in overcoming what looms like.... well, what litterally is a steep montain of paper and assorted clothes: I need to tidy up my place before 8 p.m.
P.S. I’m looking around, even as I write this, and think: there’s no way, just
no way... I’ll have to call the thing off and let them go to hell after all.
*the poor (&usually quite rich) lost sheep are neither
