In praise of nuns

Although I was ten minutes early, Vernon was there ahead of me, framed in the ancient chapel doorway, chatting up what is by general agreement the prettiest of the nunnery’s seven sisters. Vernon is a great bear of a man, raised in poverty in the Appalachian mountains, now wealthy, whose speaking voice is Jack Nicholson’s. A new friend, Vernon excites me because having endured real poverty he fiercely repudiates the glorification of anything that might be categorised under the heading of low life and calls me to order if I err in that direction conversationally.

Vernon had brought the nuns three bottles of his homemade olive oil in a carrier bag. I bowled up as he was handing them over. Framed by the ancient chapel door, the sloppily dressed giant and the tiny nun in the huge starched wimple, a supermarket carrier bag suspended between, made a striking composition. When I drew level, Vernon introduced me to the nun.