You don’t see them or feel them, but trust me, they’re there, and they’re fastened with hymnals and rosaries and prayers. You lock yourselves up...and you shuffle along and you feel quite unhappy and you don’t know what’s wrong.“So this is my Christmas day sermon to you: You’ve still time to live, ‘fore living is through. Heaven can mind its own business for now; it’s the job of the angels to scrape and to bow. You’re people, not angels, with blessings and flaws. Do what thou wilt should be the. "Go on then," he answered before returning to his paper.I dropped four thick slices of bread into the toaster and went looking for the butter and the marmalade."You're in luck," I told him. "Mum must have liked you when she went shopping." I held up a jar of orange marmalade and one of lime. "Which would you like?" I'll have the orange," he said folding up his newspaper.I carried the two jars back to the side by the toaster and waited for the bread to pop out of the top. My thoughts drifting. More

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