It was my son’s last day at his school. And we had Benediction in the Little Oratory. The service in Latin is so short, so beautiful, that it is intensely emotional. I left the school forty-eight years ago and now my son has left. I will go back. There will be other boys in their light blue jackets, but no son. Time passes. That is the only inevitability and if we cannot rejoice in it we can accept it, with, with not, a little tear two.