Geoffrey is sat in a wicker rocking chair in front of an open fire. It is late evening. An open Bible sits on his lap, an expression of contemplation on his face.
Victorious. I was victorious as I had gazed over my adoring congregation. My flock, my followers; all watching, listening dutifully as a herded them into the light. If only my home was as welcoming as my church. Reflection is the key to perfection I think, as I gaze into the fire.
My wife, my Susan, the joy of my life, the sweetest of all the flowers, what to do about her? Upstairs awaits my stale marital bed, a bed no longer filled with the joys of love, instead filled with turned backs and angry sighs. I don't know what went wrong. My congregation adores me, relishes in the messages that I bring from the Lord to them, so why does my wife gaze on with glassy eyes. Why is she so unwilling to share in the Lord's gift with me? I may as well live as a monk, for all the good my marriage gives me. Darn and blast it! I have needs. But no, my needs are not met. Anyway, I need to refocus, for I am not the one that needs to be led back into the light. Aye, that is Susan. Perhaps I should take her on a romantic getaway? The Christian Camp on the coast is renowned for it's simple way of life. Delightful, that will bring me and Susan closer together again. Yes, yes, I will book our places tomorrow. The vicar from Bromley will cover my servvices. Yes, yes, perfect. Absolutely wonderful.
Geoffrey is reading.
I hear the stairs creak. I- Crashing from the kitchen. Is that smashing glass? How odd. The creaking resumes as my beloved makes her way back up to the torture of our icy bed, but I hesitate to join her. After our break I know that Susan will be right as rain again and as captivated with me as the lovely ladies at my church are.
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