I grew up in a Catholic family. A daughter of a Catholic Cop. While we went to church each Sunday, we never discussed the Mass on the ride and never discussed it on the ride home. The ride to Church often included Annie hollering for us to get in the car, and many times the ride included arguing, tension, and fights. I never remember my dad going with us. Well, except for that Easter Sunday when my green outfit with yellow Knee-High Socks got ruined. Typically, just my mother, brother, and sister. We were obedient Catholic kids during Mass. Images were important to Annie. We knew when to sit, stand, and kneel. When I knelt for prayer during Mass, I would always peek out to see if others were also peeking or following form. You could say that the outcome of my childhood memories of Catholic church included a tense ride to mass, mastery of Sit, Stand, Kneel, leaving mass early to beat the exiting drivers, racing home, and never speaking of the service.
“Here you’ll find delicious wit, quirky characters, the colorful intrigues of daily life, and certainly love and laughter. . . . Delightful.” —Jan Karon Throughout her years as schoolmistress, Miss Read has gathered excellent accounts of the rich and varied history of her beloved English village, often through neighborly conversation over the gate. Fairacre has garnered its share of odd incidents, entertaining episodes, and village folklore, from an unusual recipe for weight loss found in an old notebook—and used with alarming consequences—to the tragic story of the village ghost. In Over the Gate, Miss Read retells many of these treasured stories of Fairacre past and present, with characteristic grace and wit. “Affectionate, humorous, and gently charming . . . sometimes funny, sometimes touching, always appealing.” —The New York Times “Miss Read has a humble, laughing heart.” —Mademoiselle
I grew up in a Catholic family. A daughter of a Catholic Cop. While we went to church each Sunday, we never discussed the Mass on the ride and never discussed it on the ride home. The ride to Church often included Annie hollering for us to get in the car, and many times the ride included arguing, tension, and fights. I never remember my dad going with us. Well, except for that Easter Sunday when my green outfit with yellow Knee-High Socks got ruined. Typically, just my mother, brother, and sister. We were obedient Catholic kids during Mass. Images were important to Annie. We knew when to sit, stand, and kneel. When I knelt for prayer during Mass, I would always peek out to see if others were also peeking or following form. You could say that the outcome of my childhood memories of Catholic church included a tense ride to mass, mastery of Sit, Stand, Kneel, leaving mass early to beat the exiting drivers, racing home, and never speaking of the service.
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