Wreathed in Uncertainty

Back in 1962, Martin Brand arrived as rector of Hornington. Scanning through the old parish registers from that time as I did a few weeks ago, I found that Revd Brand was wont to add illuminating marginal comments. In 1963 he led what would have been his second Remembrance Sunday in the parish, a service of Sung Mattins which he described in the service register as 'ghastly as ever'. One of my Swanvale Halt predecessors was preaching, but I hope Fr Brand was referring to the service as a whole rather than the hapless Canon Artington.

As Chair of Churches Together in Hornington & District this year, I was in town leaving Il Rettore to hold the fort back in the parish. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to be doing but knew that in previous years the Chair has read prayers and laid a wreath, so a couple of days ago I asked the previous Chair what I was expected to do. 'I'm not sure, they keep changing it', he replied. 'No wreath, ask Revd Jim at the parish church what to do.' He told me 'Nothing expected, you're welcome to come if you like,' which was a more offhand response than I anticipated. I thought it was too late to rearrange everything, and so came along and dutifully sat in a pew while the proceedings proceeded. At the end I toyed with the idea of going home but then thought No, I am never usually here and the Air Cadets are parading so I will go to the War Memorial. Once there and waiting for it all to begin I was accosted by the Town Council's ops manager who said 'What are you doing standing here? I've got a wreath with your name on it', rather like the vineyard owner in the parable. So I found I was doing something after all. The wreath may have had my name on it but thankfully it was for Churches Together rather than being in my memory. I was able to speak to a variety of Swanvale Halt parents lining the parade route to watch their children marching with Brownies and Cubs and the like and that was probably even more worthwhile than putting down a circle of plastic flowers.

A Sensible Approach

Remembrancetide - as witnessed by this display in the window of the village florist - is way in the past now, but I hadn't wanted the reaction of the children at Church Club when we discussed it to go unrecorded. Having talked about it in assembly in the morning, they were as clued-up as 6-year-olds are likely to be about the history. Genevieve stuck up her hand. 'My great-grandad was in that war,' she informed us; I think there might have been a generation missing there, or she got the wrong war. 'But he wasn't killed,' she went on brightly, 'he was all right, because he ran away.'

Distant Remembrance

 

I'm often very thankful that our War Memorial is inside the church and not in a chilly churchyard, or indeed at some distance. Today Rick the verger set the church up for a short Act of Remembrance which I could record for virtual use. Dean our Treasurer plays the trumpet and had recorded a faultless version of the Last Post & Reveille (with two minutes' silence in between to make it even easier for me) which I was able to team up with a generic recording of 'Nimrod' and 'O God our Help' on the organ, all played off my computer and routed through the church sound system, such as it is. It all worked perfectly and was very dignified, not that it's hard to be dignified if there's nobody else there. 

And then I discovered my phone had slipped and the Memorial and everything else was filmed at a positively Caligari-ish angle, so I had to do it all over again at 11.15. Don't tell anyone.