The door stuck so hard that when I finally pushed it open a cloud of dust descended. On the altar was a brass vase of dead flowers. There was an atmosphere of musty silence. The crooked cross says it all.
For all that this Coromandel Peninsula church had a charm and faded dignity that were impressive. Some children came from a local marae and giggled at me. I think I might have been wearing a silly hat; it was a sunny day and I have a bald patch.
donovan@ihug.co.nz www.don-donovan.blogspot.co.nz
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