"One of the first things I did when I moved to the house in Richmond, was start attending the local Anglican parish church. I had had more than my fill of St. Judess, and the hypocrisy of clergy and parishioners became unendurable, so I left. I found the simple and very suburban and ordinary parish of St. Alban's to be a breath of fresh air. Plus, I had a family connection there, as my uncle and his family attended for many years and my cousin was a boy soprano in their choir, but way back in the day. People there were friendly and welcoming, and I think also open to a sense of community, at least as far as Anglicans are willing or able to do community. They had a small chapel in the back where I often felt a very deep and tranquil sense of holy presence. It was there that I would attend some of the weekday eucharists at noon, should I have some break time from work.
"In the spring, as my mother was struggling with cancer, I had some paid time off and every day for a week I attended the week day services. I began to chat more with some of the people there. I met with the rector, and we seemed to connect really well. When Harold moved in, he began attending St. Albans with me. Being a very handsome and manly man, especially for a fag, the ladies of the parish seemed particularly taken by him, especially because he was very warm, friendly and outgoing. Though a lot of it, for him was just theatre and acting. He was actually pretty smarmy, rather like a rent boy that didn't know when to retire. He also became our PR and would in eloquent terms broadcast to all and sundry about the wonderful work of God we were doing supporting AIDs sufferers in downtown Vancouver. We became an overnight sensation..."
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