"Thank you," I say, leaving the diner. "And God bless," I add awkwardly.
"And God bless you too, sir!"
Toto, I have a feeling we're not in Twickenham anymore.
Maybe it's just me, but I've never felt entirely at ease with making these little displays of faith. It's not that I don't do it; far from it. I've been known to bring out a rosary (for some reason, it's always a pink plastic one I find loose in my coat pocket) on the Tube. The ashes on my forehead sometimes make it longer into Lent than, er, impeccable standards of personal hygiene might permit. And I do, indeed, often append "God bless" to thank-yous and goodbyes.
