This weekend I ventured out to the town of Dunnville, Ontario, for a house party with some young Anglican acquantiances et alia. It's a hassle to get out there: the bus to Hamilton is fairly straightforward, but getting from Hamilton to Dunnville necessarily involves the mercy of someone with a driver's licence.
For the first several hours there was a sort of pre-party made up of the inner sanctum of friends, as it were. For much of this time, I was the eldest guest, and I hit it off with the locals quite well. No one seemed troubled by the presence of a big-city queen; indeed, one lad told me I was "a pretty cool guy." Later more people arrived and the intimate atmosphere changed, but I kept myself close to my new acquaintances from the afternoon.
On Sunday morning I went to Mass at the parish church. Unfortunately, this was a modern-language Sunday, and instead of the BAS, they use a form of service based on Common Worship. This meant an alternative "affirmation of faith" in lieu of a Creed, a terrible Elton John-like praise chorus solo instead of a gradual, and a metrical Gloria. The celebrant faced east in surplice and stole (no chasuble because of the heat, I was told). I'll be sure to come back again for a BCP Sunday - perhaps even for monthly Mattins.