I often stop for a coffee in our local shopping centre after work as a way of re-charging my batteries before tackling the shopping and other chores. Being a 'regular' obviously the staff have got to know me a little.
The majority of the staff are Portuguese and are delightful; always ready to help carry someone's tray if they're elderly or disabled or are struggling with babies and toddlers. They always have a kind word and a smile for the disadvantaged folk one often finds sipping a cup of tea in these sorts of places; those from the local care-in-the-community homes etc. and . . . poor old dears like me, of course!
Coming straight from work, I'm usually dressed in what I think of as typical office wear; smart-ish (I hope) work dress or skirt and blouse and sensible court shoes.
Paying for my coffee we exchanged a few words, as usual. I was asked if I worked in the church. Some of the staff know that I do. I replied that I did. 'Are you a nun?' came the response. Resisting the urge to laugh out loud, I replied that no, I was not a nun but worked in the office.
Of course if nuns dressed like this . . .
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj3z0b1GEJqPjYYDmmsSml92l_HgA2WSS-oYbd7geg9msO8IB7BRCsKr3ZaaZ9_k_RqMJueYVk2wEDcNW5gTXgOkFGT8NI84IcaelZSeLZhKgZ8fvfz0WuU5vbIe6cuWf9CZ2dnbJ_0is/s320/Nun+with+Pope+Benedict.jpg)
or this . . .
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2HwvdKASy3B7Mw6Q8nUugfGWBBxi_vcS-LKMXLnxx3uAYvDpRRKGEJ5bWKarBjlapA8nF3G-1o2Brfb6DssmfsXBn2RaGzGbuZ5QgVBcRaEId0T8Ok3xmA_WrmrnXscm8UTlAwxGEnQg/s320/Nun+in+white+habit.jpg)
or, again like this . . .
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI0O0edBUl4PsejTufn-f_pI35KTaYp_DVlvNxa0ED4As0wYBBofOwCEFkP8ITYXVpH1BHlsaqBRYxzLRF6Y5FocPJqnimWXIVe0lkGUyuYXLx5YkRwjPxThEMX1pk9r7qg8INSkyliNQ/s320/Nun+-+Franciscan+Sisters+of+Renewal.jpg)
then we'd all know where we were, wouldn't we? Just a thought . . .