A weekend of sloth, interspersed with eating, drinking and wallowing in nostalgia, which is not a bad way to do things. One of these was a secular naming ceremony, which was a new one. I rather admired it: it was a relaxed affair for family and friends and, most importantly, it reflected what they believed.
A child, name proclaimed into the open
air. The angel's share of malt whisky was brushed across his sparse
hair. Life, started hopefully, without heaven's intervention.
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