Wet Paint. No kidding!

Walking Maggie the dog yesterday, I passed the local church, strictly for left footers like myself. St. Gregory the Great. There was a lot of activity going on, there were painters, gardeners and maintenance guys. There seemed to be more there than went through the turnstiles on Sunday. I could see one of the painters giving a dirty look to the guy strimming the grass. I must say I couldn't blame him. The last thing you need after applying the top coat is for someone to come along and sabotage your good offices. I think the strimmer's mate shouted him a heads up and he went to pastures new, luckily before the painter seized his warmly by the throat. I noticed another of the painters placing photocopied WET PAINT signs adjacent to the newly carried out work. I imagine that Father Ted(really no kidding) had printed them up in the presbytery. The trouble is, when you put signs like that up, it doesn't take very long before people, eg. the strimmer, to use their fingers to test the truth of the notice. So to those I say, please take notice of the notice. Although I personally don't bother Father Ted, et al,too much with my presence, I do like to see the church still open. Since Father Ted has arrived, the church has installed some bells. My hearing is like the rest of my body,i.e. not the best, however on Sunday morning it is lovely to hear them pealing before mass. How quintessentially English. I don't think the painter had finished before it started raining, as it is now. Even working for men of the cloth has no guarantee that the rain will hold off until the paint is dry. Was it ever thus?
Adios.