MY CHURCH is covered in scaffolding. This is not a euphemism, or
one of those coded remarks one hears in spy films ("The eagle has
landed," and so on). No, the church of which I am Vicar is
thoroughly clad in scaffolding. And it is not a pretty sight.
Not only is there scaffolding all the way round and right up to
the roof, but the bottom two layers are surrounded with metal
sheets to stop drunken students (and clergy, probably) climbing ...
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