I've been home to visit folks this weekend and it was quite fun. Everyone in Ludlow was pleased to see me although I didn't get there in time to sing, which was a bit of a shame.

There was the most bizarre woman in the pub at lunchtime. We were all sitting chatting and the pub was rather full and it was a bit of a squeeze so we all squished in around the corner where a couple were sitting having lunch. She was a very precious type and started tutting and pishing as we sat and chatted. Eventually, Neil declared he was off to stand at the bar and she muttered "I wish you would" under her breath which really riled me. I turned to her, fixed her in the eyes and asked "Excuse me?" She looked somewhat disturbed and said something about the smoke irritating her so Neil pointed out that the non-smoking part of the public bar wasn't where they were sitting and that he was upset if the smoke was irritating her, before taking a huge lungful and carrying on.

When Neil did go, she sat and tutted about everything which was somewhat amplified when I knocked her table as I was getting up to move. Of course, the first thing I did was turn round and apologise profusely (and sincrely, too), saying "I'm desperately sorry!"

"You will be!" she said as she gave me the filthiest of looks. I stood and looked at her for a second to try and figure out where she was coming from as she quickly launched into a tirade of tutting and idle threats. I dismissed these and actually managed to stop her dead in her tracks by saying, "Listen love. Don't mess with the faggot or you'll not get as far as dessert."

Stunned silence, save a few giggles from the assembled. I was really hoping she'd pour her wine over me as I'd already thought up the "That'll be the first time you've made anybody moist for a few decades then?" line, but unfortunately she didn't indulge me.

Eventually, she broke when Neil was talking about a friend of Barbara's having bought an old chapel. The discussion centred around whether it was consecrated ground or not, so I suggested a way to stop the purchase would be to bury someone. Neil looked at me, dead pan, and asked if I had anyone in mind. Of course, I couldn't resist and just turned and smiled to the woman as she looked at me and volunteered. I'd just got "Ordinarily, we'd prefer a corpse, but I guess nobody would mind" as she came out with it.

"I'm from Malvern and I'm disgusted. I have a problem with him. That priest [Neil] there. Him. Drinking. IN A PUB! ON A SUNDAY!"

So this was the crux of the whole fiasco. Clerics and choir members drinking. Neil should have been envangelising, apparently, like the Salvation Army do. And he certainly shouldn't be smoking.

Anyway. Neil pointed out he'd taken three services this morning and weasled out of her that she'd not been to church that morning. I was at this point that I proclaimed myself to be a member of the Church of the Alcoholic Homosexual which led to convulsions that really made me think her head was about to explode. I then wandered off to the toilet ("I'm going to get some stones") and came back to find the husband being desperately embarrassed and Neil looking as if he was losing patience.

We came to the conclusion she really was quite, quite, mad. Oh well.