Thursday February 28th
The last day! It wasn’t too hectic. Most of it just Handover stuff and most of that was in one file: “InfallibilityForIdiots.doc”. Then I started composing my Out Of Office Reply until I realised I’d need a new email address. Apparently will be needed for the next guy, so I’m stuck with I couldn’t even get benedict16 – which would have suited me but it was gone. Who are all these Benedicts?
There wasn’t much work done in the afternoon. There was some muttering about the fact that I wasn’t having a “Leaving Do” but I didn’t even know you’re supposed to have one. No one has ever left this job before. Usually the Leaving Do and the Funeral are the same event. Anyway – I heard about Berlusconi’s one and that’s the kind of carry-on We really don’t need now.
The morning after the Life before. Completely forgot to change the alarm so I was up super early. Had a bit of a pray but I get the impression that I don’t have as much clout with the Il Grande Uomo as I used to. Feels like I’m getting through to voicemail….
I got out the iPad. I hardly used it before because I was so busy. And of course wouldn’t you know, Murphy’s Law: “Error establishing connection” it says when I try to go on the Internet.
I spent the rest of the morning on the phone to the Broadband People. The ‘Hold music’ was Hallelujah but I think it’s one of the non-Catholic versions because I recognised it from X-Factor. Bad start to retirement.
At least it filled the time till The Late Late Show although it’s not like it used be. We used to watch it all the time to keep an eye on the Irish but since someone sent us a tape of Tallafornia, our worst fears are already realised.
The man finally came fixing the Internet. “You didn’t have it configured correctly” he says. I give him a cold stare. I was The Pope for Christ’s sake (literally). I shouldn’t have to configure anything. But I suppose anyone can make a mistake. Even me. Especially now.
Then I tried to log into Vatican Intranet but my password has been disabled. Looks like the lads in Tech Support didn’t waste any time. It’s procedure of course but I’m just feeling a bit left out.
I go to Twitter and ALL MY TWEETS ARE GONE!!! My vacant chair isn’t even cold they’re moving on. Maybe I should have stayed in there.
For old times sake I went to the balcony to have a look out, but of course there was no-one there down below. I think I’m going to miss the balcony bits the most. You could go out there and do a little wave and the crowd would Go. Absolutely. Ape. Sometimes I’d try to get a Mexican Wave going. The nuns were mad for that. I remember the Queen saying the same thing (about the Mexican Wave, not the nuns).
The phone rang and I nearly fell over in my excitement to answer it. It was one of the cardinals. He said they were wondering if I’d do a talk on How To Deal With Scandals. I said that Talking is the first mistake in dealing with scandals but I promised him I’ll do up another Handover document.
Another long day. Who knew day-time television was so bad? There’s one programme in particular – Jeremy Kyle. From what I can see, it just consists of a load of people with bad teeth denying they’re the father. As I watched it I could think of a few potential guests and they’re not too far away from where I used to work.
Big excitement in the afternoon as I checked my inbox for the umpteenth time and there was one new email. But it was only LInkedIn. I was nearly roaring in frustration. The email appeared to be rebuking me because I’m not ‘connecting’ to people and I haven’t updated my profile. What am I supposed to say? Current Employment: Unemployed – Previous Employment: Pope. Who’s going to connect to that?
I finally got an actual email. It was from, what looked to be, a fairly hastily set up organisation called Ex-Pontiff Outreach Programme Enterprises (XPOPE) who promise, they say, to ease the transition to what they call “Post-Pope-Culture”. There’s a whole range of things I’m entitled to they said. “And in an exciting new offer, you are even entitled to regular checkups at the chiropodist” chirped the email.
I wanted to reply that the best thing for my feet is to get my red Prada slippers back but what’s the point?
The Housekeeper has finally snapped. I think he’s being a little sensitive. All I said was that I don’t like the teabag in the mug when the milk goes in but he ‘started off on one’. “You’re driving me crazy, watching over every little thing I do. Why don’t you go out for a walk and don’t be under my feet? Get the paper or something.” I started out but I halfway out the gate when realised I don’t have any nice shoes.
Thursday March 7th
The broadband is gone again. That’s it. I’ve had enough. I’ve changed my mind. I want my old job back.

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