There were seven of us seated round the lunch table; three clergy and the daughter of a clergy family and three other professional Christian ministers. At 49 years old I was the oldest there. One of the other clergy mentioned that he had been to a woman's house on Sunday afternoon and had been treated to 'proper tea' - the sort vicars ought to get with tea in cups and scones with jam.
I guessed that a maximum of four of us would get the following joke:
The Church of England; whose mercy is to have proper tea.
In fact only two of us did. The Prayer Book Society can now sing a corporate lament. There was a Vic and Bob moment as brushwood blew across the silenced table and a distant dog howled. Probably the Prayer Book Society don't understand that last cultural reference.
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