Justice of One Piece
When Sam begins Week 39 of 1660 by laughing at the reading in Westminster Abbey, the building itself attacks him, prompting a new approach to life...
This week, I focused on being appreciative of all those around me, not least because the Lord gave me a sign as to the fragility of my life – by nearly ending it, in Westminster Abbey no less.
The reader had just shared a prayer desiring God to imprint his word on the thumbs of our right hands and on the great toes of our right feet. The image was so hilarious that I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, though I kept it quiet.
The Lord heard me, though. And so, in the middle of Mr Rowe’s sermon, some plaster fell from the ceiling of the Abbey, just to the side of our pew. Thus narrowly avoiding an imprint on the right sides of our heads, we were all afeared, and hastened to leave.
I had a narrow miss of another kind that same afternoon, though: Diana did not come to our chosen meeting place according to our agreement. I am therefore still in the dark as to this “urgent business” she wished to discuss with me, but I was spared another week of thinking about it.
So it was that I resolved to practice more gratitude this week than I have been doing of late. My first opportunity was on Monday, which began with a family dinner at my cousin Scott’s. Joining my wife and me there were my uncle Fenner and my aunt, my father and mother, and many other cousins – including cousin Richard, whom I have not seen in the fourteen years since he returned from New England.
As well as tales of the Americas, I also found my cousin Judith to be surprisingly up for gossip, despite having recently buried her infant son. I suppose she, like me, wanted to balance a brush with the Reaper by focusing more keenly on the living.
That same afternoon, I went to the Temple Church where I met with Sir William Batten, and together we found the Solicitor-General’s chamber. There, Sir Henige Finch himself swore me in as a Justice of Peace.
This is an honour with which I find my mind mightily pleased – though I must confess to being wholly ignorant about the duty of a Justice of Peace. It seems to be something of a token title in respect of my role as a Principle Officer to the Navy – but happily, it also comes with an augmentation of my salary…
Alas, though, Secretary Nicholas was not around to confirm my new salary. So instead, Sir William and I popped into the Three Tuns and drank awhile. I’ll gladly swap disappointment for wine anytime.
This week I also enjoyed watching some dancing with my sometime friend “Monsieur L’impertinent”, aka Mr Butler (don’t ask how he earned his nickname…), as well as my first ever cup of ‘tea’ courtesy of the merchant Sir Ford (apparently it’s all the rage in China), and a day working with my Lord Sandwich on yet another commission to sea (he being this week returned from collecting the princesses from Holland).
Oo – speaking of Holland… While with us in the Privy Seal office, Sir Ford confided in me that he feels it in our kingdom’s best trade interests to have a peace with Spain, and instead make war with France and Holland.
Sir Ford talked like a man of great reason and experience, and I could understand how such an arrangement would satisfy mercantile interests, affecting access to and prices of goods etc. But really… War with Holland? So soon after our king and his sisters are returned from their generous hospitality? That would be ingracious, would it not?
And let’s not mention that they are somewhat better connected, nay wealthier than we are. Could our isolated shores withstand a war against a joint force of Holland and France…?
Luckily my mind was swiftly diverted from such ruminations by matters at home – and I don’t just mean the new boy’s first display of tardiness, which resulted in his first beating. Elisabeth made up our bed on the ground, due to the plasterers being at work in every room of our house.
Indeed, our house was in a most sad pickle throughout this week, and I spent most afternoons overseeing the workmen – to ensure they actually used the tools they had strewn all over the place.
But then, remembering my week’s commitment to focus on gratitude, I decided to give the workmen some drink on Friday afternoon. Together we got very merry…
My expression of gratitude seems to have done the trick, though – for, before the end of Saturday, our kitchen was so handsome that I did not think once of all the trouble we have been through to have it done.
Perhaps that’s the moral of this week: jest over scripture, plaster falls fast; appreciate those around you, plaster goes up faster…
In return for the smiles you took from these words, you can support my time spent writing them for about the same you’d spend in a bookshop
Plus you’ll receive the warm glow that comes from knowing you’re supporting creative freedom. {:-)
My purse
I am most lately 218l clear in my purse.
Have you any examples of a divine sign, like Westminster Abbey attacking Sam here for laughing at the Bible reading?