An unexpected pleasure at lunch after our Missa cantata: four dozen oysters to share amongst half a dozen friends! Apparently a local seafood outlet was celebrating this delectable shellfish with a special deal this week. (Note to Northern Hemisphereans: yes, July is not an "r" month, but recall that the austral seasons are the reverse of yours.)
It may seem shocking, but this was the first time I've ever eaten oysters – my trepidation turned to delectation, thankfully. I ate half a dozen of these fresh Tasmanian delights: raw, with fresh-squeezed lemon juice and sippets of bread (plus a sip on a good gin and tonic, somewhat oddly stained with Angostura bitters).
The oysters were but the entree, by the way.
Oh, and before I loose myself in a Fr Z-like world of gourmandism, our Missa cantata went well: I estimate about fifty braved the cold, rainy day to attend the liturgy. Owing to an understandable mix-up, the choir had practised the Sunday propers, not those for the feast of the Most Precious Blood – as I said to the anxious choir master, "We can only do what we can do," and, as it was adjudged impossible to try and attempt the actual chants, the Sunday texts were sung; after all, Father would be reading the correct ones at the altar anyway. Such is life.
Prayers, please, for our priest, Fr Gerald, who will celebrate his fiftieth anniversary of ordination on the 27th of this month. When I said to him, "Should I wish you another fifty?" he smiled and said, "Yes please!" What a good priest: he loves his priesthood and his priestly ministry.
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