The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. I could tell he was dead, because he smelt even worse than usual. I remember that day well, I was visiting the priest for my weekly confession, during which I would be forced to admit my ‘guilty sins of the flesh’. Last week I told the priest I had once seen a woman hanging out washing, he condemned my ‘vile lust of the eyes’. And said I was a wicked depraved child, who Jesus would watch with extra vigilance. He asked if I’d ever been naked. I told him I had. ‘Nakedness is sin!’ He screamed, ‘I myself have never been naked!’He told me I must say 500 Hail mary’s , 86 our fathers, and pray for the death of 26 protestants. He asked if their was any other, depravity to witch I would confess, he seemed exited at the th