Because I am about to start training for admission to another church, I have been hunting around for proof of my baptism. I came late to that event, being 21 at the time. The venue was the church I had begun going to, St Albans, Frenchs Forest, and the minister, the kindly Rev. Len Straw. But I was unable to find the correct certificate and the thought of combing boxes of old documents filled me with a kind of dread.

So I asked the same church if they could email me proof of some kind and they duly did, though they spelt the venerable Straw's name incorrectly. Never mind I thought. I have what I need.

Today I was fiddling around in my garage library (there is no room in the house, sob!) when a small book fell from the shelf. From that small book, my baptism certificate fell also.

The Rev. Straw, name correctly rendered now, can rest in peace.