Monday, May 14, 2007
At Church, girls and women get to do nothing except worship men and make the tea. I like to look at all the patterns - the rush weave on the seats, the herringbone on the floor and the tired cracks in the kneelers. I wish our church would have a kneeler embroidery project.
There are meant to be ten commandments. 'Love thy neighbour' can't be one - look at the Reverend!! Ian Paisley stirring up murder and mayhem in Northern Ireland - driving even my Granny to hate (him, not the Catholics). Church people here seem to observe only four commandments - Thou shalt know that boys are best. Thou shalt wear Sunday clothes. Thou shalt push back thy cuticles (females only). Thou shalt not question.
The first person I knew who died was the Sunday school teacher. She was not old. It was very odd. If Heaven is so wonderful, and she's been chosen to be with God, why is everyone so sad? I don't think I'll be chosen soon 'cause I never get chosen for anything, but just in case, perhaps I'll only mouth the prayers.
Labels: memory paintings