My sister invited us all to her son’s christening on Sunday, in a church so close to our house that I couldn’t say no. It’s a huge red bricked thing, plonked side-on to High St. Thornbury, with a concrete garden, and always looks sun blasted and inhospitable. The inside had the usual spartan Catholic decor, some surprising pale wood roof panelling and a bunch of natural light. It was cool and peaceful. I was glad to discover it. There were two christenings, and being added to the end of a normal church service, the normal Sunday crowd of mostly short and dumpy old Italian men and women made up the congregation and hung around for the action. We arrived 30 minutes late (negative points for that one) and stood at the back with the less devoted, and some might say more troublesome types, a good 50 metres from the action. Back there, kids were throwing toy cars at each other and stomping around, whilst casually clad parents made token attempts to shush them. It was quite a contrast to the besuited folks up front getting their naked baby displayed to all like a prize and dunked into the huge stonemason-crafted-and-no-doubt-italian-imported-marble basin. The whole affair was charming and there were no tears. Many photos were taken and we went out to lunch in Ivanhoe and drank nice Sparkling and Pinot. A really well organised day and some proud parents. Good work guys.