Catrin went off for a youth weekend to the foothills of the Pyrenees where she was to translate for a Surf Pastor who apparently, it turned out, did his theological training in Wrexham, the town where both Gwilym and Catrin were born...
Anyway, they all arrived, they ate, they had the first session, they went to settle for the night, then it all began. Catrin just vomited. Others had diarrhoea. All had to use one of those special turkish toilets - a hole for squatting. Que du bonheur!
We had a picnic sat on a bench in the first sunshine of Spring.
Then some television together, listen to last week's message from Deeside, and preparation for Sunday.
Sunday evening was a happy time. We were a few people fewer, probably because of the Mark drama being put on by the GBU in Latresne that evening.
However, our friend Nico was visiting and he was able to have a good discussion with one of our young folk who has read and been impressed by a singularly unhelpful book by some US presbys who decided to cross the Tiber, "Rome, sweet home". As Nico is currently engaged in swimming the Tiber in the other direction, I was extremely glad to get them together and let them talk. After all, I may know what indulgences are and how one uses a rosary, but I've never been in the system.
When I got home Catrin was waiting to recount her adventures, still looking somewhat ... drained ... but basically OK.