We were up early putting the last minute touches to the house and the food and the decorations. At 10am we were all ready to leave for the church when our friend Jayne (a local widow) arrived with two big plates of sandwiches that she'd prepared at her home. 
We left in Vivienne’s car, and she drove the short journey round to the church of 'All Saints Hesketh Bank' which is the local 'Church of England' parish church. The litany of the 'Church of England' is so close to the Catholic ceremony, that only a person schooled in the niceties of ecclesiastical punctiliousness would be able to ascertain any difference! To contemplate that these small technical divides in worship techniques, [although allegiances were involved too I admit] traditions gave cause for countless wars and aggressive engagements between Britain, and Spain doesn't bear thinking about!
The vicar, (who was de-frocked shortly after the baptism for habitually and persistently de-frocking one his female parishioners')refused to allow anybody to take photographs or video footage inside the church, which is a bit silly whichever way you look at it! This same vicar was soon afterwards caught 'in flagrante' with one of his female flock and drummed out of the parish in disgrace leaving his humiliated wife and kids still living in the vicarage. The female concerned had already featured as the rock upon which of the previous vicar has also foundered and discharged his cargo, and he too had been likewise de-frocked of his office for the same activity. The phlegmatic, middle-aged, predominantly female congregation seemed inured to these events, and apparently accepted the regular priestly trouser-droppings as part of the ups and downs of Christian life.
Cameron was very well behaved, and didn't cry in spite of having cold water rather thoughtlessly sprinkled on his head twice. The priest lit a special candle, which he gave to us as a keepsake together with a Certificate of Baptism. Whenever we look at the well-proportioned candle we think of the vicar.
After the service we all returned to Sidney Avenue where the party started.
People were being kind, saying nice things, people were looking at other people to see how old they'd grown, to see if their skins were defying the force of gravity and were weathering the storms of life any better than their own. It was sedate, it was uneventful, it was very English really, everyone was on their best behaviour. Nevertheless, it was what the ladies like - predictable, mannered, controlled. The men acted with the charm and politeness of American Confederate Officers from 'Gone With the Wind.' The ladies busied themselves with talk of babies and motherhood and other people's sex-lives and problems of finding replacements for errant priests. |
Evans Experientialism 
