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Name calling (With thanks to Kerry Featherstone)
The vicar calls me Katherine.
I stare at him.
He explains that it’s important to adhere to the baptismal name.
I tell him I was christened Katie.
Twenty years later I get to thinking about this:
does God only know me by one name?
Personally I suspect that God knows me by many names
among them slag, slob and bitch which I wasn’t christened either.
There she goes, God’s thinking, failed housewife, cleavage flasher, part time shoddy writer of vaguely desperate poems, dysfunctional daughter, insubordinate ex civil servant, the strumpet.
And I’m saying hey God, cruel beast, purveyor of injustice, navy jumper wearer (I know about the navy jumper because I dreamt it), sly fox, trafficker in irony.
God and me get along just fine.
But he’s never called me Katherine.
Katie Daniels
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