To celebrate the first church service of spring, the bolder members of the congregation afterwards broke into the local lido for a spontaneous spot of skinny dipping.
“Take. It. Off. Take. It. Off,” they heckled the vicar, standing reticently on the side of the pool, thumbing the stiff collar of his cassock.
Even as they splashed about, every pair of eyes in the pool was on the vicar.
That he could feel so confident behind his pulpit with all eyes on him – as he had, not an hour earlier – the vicar felt exposed in their day-lit gazes.
“Take. It. Off. Take. It—”
The vicar was rescued by Terry, church usher and former brigadier, who did a bomb into the centre of the Bible study group, to a raucous response.
What the hell, the vicar thought in the moment of diversion, stripping off his cassock and sliding into the water, but keeping his undies on.
vss #26
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Phillip Drown 