An unholy coup

Masquerading as the Easter bunny

Mr McG once almost pulled off a terrific coup (his words).

He’d invited a British couple to join us at my parents’ home in Normandy for the Easter weekend: S, a work colleague from London, who was on his way to south-west France with his wife R. I’d not met them but was assured I’d love them.

Just one tiny problem... well, not really a problem, but they’d asked if they might go to church on Easter Sunday.

Now my parents were not religious... indeed my mother was rabidly atheist... but my father, good Boy Scout that he was, duly looked up local church-service times and offered to accompany them.

Mr McG had meanwhile thoughtfully forewarned S & R that my parents would no doubt want to go to church that Sunday. Bastard!

So when the subject came up, (almost) all parties, not wanting to offend the other, enthusiastically agreed to attend the service.

My mother meanwhile lurked in the kitchen, scowling.

Just as Mr McG was sensing victory, having lined up all his ducks, he overreached himself, allowing the tiniest hint of a smile to play on his face.

And I caught it….

*********************

After that little misunderstanding was cleared up, everyone got on like a house on fire. Although my father remained forever puzzled as to why anyone would go to such lengths to make people go to church.