A lady missionary, who had come to watch [the rehearsal], asked if I could be introduced to her. To my disgust, she stroked my hair, called me "an adorable little fellow" and then started asking questions about my religious feelings.I can't understand her objections. It sounds like a perfectly reasonable answer to me. In the unlikely event of Jesus turning up at the door in the flesh, it is likely he might want to talk to the Padre and inspect the guard. And I'm sure he would have appreciated a sherry. It would have been a welcome change from the cheap Palestinian plonk he was used to. In fact, it would probably be the best he had had since the wedding at Cana.
"Now tell me," she said, "what would you do if one day when you were at home by yourself, Our Lord suddenly walked in?"
After a few moments of puzzled silence, I answered, "I'd ask him if he'd like a glass of sherry and I'd send a chit [note] to the Padre to come along jaldi [at once]." I paused, then added, "Oh yes, and I'd also send a chit along to the Orderly Officer in case Jesus wanted to inspect Main Guard in bull order."
The missionary was so shocked that she immediately expressed the view that I was quite unsuited to take part in any Nativity play, but Miss Trouvel threatened to resign if she lost one of her stars.
As for our house, on the rare occasions we have wine, it is invariably of the white variety, which would appear anaemic to anyone raised in the ancient Middle East - especially if he continued the then custom of diluting it three or four times with water. And as for our regular tea and coffee, these were not adopted until well into the Christian era, and one must accept that they are an acquired taste.