When we were kids growing up on the Gipton Estate during W.W. 2. a visit from the Parish Priest or one of his fellow priests was as if we were to be visited by a Tsunami . even though our house was clean my Mother insisted on cleaning the house from top to bottom, then a fresh cloth on the table, best cup and saucer plus most of all to us children were biscuits and a piece of cake. we would be sworn to best behaviour and then sit quietly watching the Reverend devour the goodies and hope he would leave some as we knew our Mother would allow us to clear the plates. My brother and i would glower as he patted our heads,, wiping the crumbs from his mouth saying "See you at mass on Sunday."
I wonder if anyone used to have similar experience ?
Billy Connolly tells of something like that when he was living in a house full of kids in Glasgow and the the local"Wild Beest"" was to call they were all put on best behavior and banished to the bedroom. as we all had in those days overcoats were often put on the beds, Billy says as the noise grew louder his Mother apologised to the Priest, stuck her head in the bedroom door once or twice and said "Stop playing on the "Duvets" children" sometime after one of the kids shouted out " Mam our Billy's got his head stuck up the arm of the Duvet"