My P.G. Wodehouse summer
From our UK edition
Normally I model myself on one of the more retiring of the Desert Fathers, as much as a man living in England with six children can, so I rarely venture out. But this summer I could have given Galahad Threepwood a run for his money in the socialising stakes. Not that a Desert Father would have objected to my visit to Wimbledon to the papal nunciature, where the nuncio was celebrating the papacy of Leo XIV. It is reassuring to have a Pope who believes in the papal office and, with luck, the traditional liturgies will no longer be persecuted. The hatred for the Latin Mass is a peculiarity of a few ageing liberals. Fortunately, young Catholics, including my nephew David who is a seminarian, are flocking to the Old Rite. Wimbledon, as P.G. Wodehouse aficionados know, is Ukridge territory.