Michael, a fellow Blogger whose posts are always far better than mine will ever be.
A couple of weeks ago Michael wrote a brilliant post about his pet peeves when he is in church. You can read it HERE.
Well, this Sunday a similar thing happened at our church. We had a Baptism during Mass and as ever the church (and car park) were packed to the limit and more. There were many people whom I had never seen in church before; no doubt relatives and friends of the proud parents and even a few more besides.
Good, I bet God was happy to see the church so crowded. The priest too, judging from the collection plate.
We could not get to our usual seat so we decided to stand at the back. No problem there.
Throughout Mass, standing there at the back was a young lady wearing a very tight, (3 sizes too small I'd guess), black backless dress suitable for a night out at the theatre or a dance or party, rather than church. The backless dress hugged her every contour and it was so short that it barely covered the essential. It was made of that type of material which somehow lifts the tight dress up whenever you walk.
Now I'm no fashion expert, but why do some women wear dresses made of that material? It must be uncomfortable as they walk for the dress to go for ever upwards.
Anyway, this young lady was carrying a small child in her arms and kept pacing up and down in front of us. Every so often she would stop and with one hand feebly and unsuccessfully try to pull the dress down again.
The child, like they all do when our sermons are extra long, as today's certainly was; I forgot a word that the priest said, you know ...
To continue, as I was saying before I interrupted my thoughts, the child began to cry. To soothe him the young woman stopped walking and rocked the baby gently up and down on her chest. As she did so her tight dress responded by raising the hemline up rhythmically at her every movement without her realising it.
I did not know where to look ... Actually I did, but I feared a sharp elbow in my ribs from you know who.
I pretended not to notice, but then, if I hadn't noticed, I would not be writing here about it; would I?