The cathedral-licking bet was almost 4 months old before I first got my tongue on this beauty. In Norwich visiting my mum on holiday, the sight of the cathedral spire brought back the awful realisation that I had not even come close to getting the bet started.
My poor mum, it was her birthday and had hoped to enjoy Norwich’s medieval charm in relative peace, only for me to cause embarrasment by asking her to take the photo above. Fearful that a disapproving holy person should discover my actions and damn me to Hell, she insisted the deed should be done in the quiet surroundings of the cloister, which was in fact positively thronging with men of the cloth admiring the fine collection of painted ceiling bosses.
With her friend acting as a lookout she hastily captured my triumphant first lick of a cathedral, showing the main tower in the background. The holy men were far too absorbed in the bosses (one of which shows a man displaying his bare arse, a local weirdo later told us) to notice and we bid a hasty retreat.
One lick down, 42 more to go.