I note that the green Beryl crockery in the Church Hall has been replaced by a new, supposedly tasteful, “willow pattern” design.
Yes, the Beryl was a drab green. Yes, it was chipped. Yes, it was bought during the Second World War. But it was the traditional crockery of Great Tremlett. It was actually donated to the church by my husband’s grandfather, Jeremiah Twigg, in memory of his late wife. She was actually named Doris, not Beryl. Caused a great scandal in the village.
My own great-grandparents drank their hideous coffee after Matins from the same Beryl cups we used until this month. And not only has the pattern been replaced – we now have mugs instead. I have written to the Diocesan Registrar to determine whether we should have applied for a faculty.
And the local newspaper.
And the Times newspaper.
And Nigel Farage.
Fennel Bailey, The Old Orchard House, Great Tremlett
Every year, Lent brings with it new challenges, but also unexpected delights. This year, I have been much affected by how attractive the curate, the so-called Father “Joanne”, appears in a purple stole. Purple does seem a fetching colour on her – it sets off the long naturally blonde hair that flows down over her shoulders. However, when i suggested that maybe the period of Lent be extended, considering that Fr Joanne will be wearing a purple chasuble next year, Mrs Cobley-Anhall stood on my foot.
Tom Cobley-Anhall, “Tweezers”, Grilsby-on-the-Hill
Things ain’t what they used to be.
Dolores Measle, “Chafing”, Old Street, Woodby
I understand that, on top of the website, the Benefice now has a “Facebook Page”. This can only cause trouble. People will now be able to “like” the vicar. Which sounds ridiculously unlikely,
Chesney Peterson, Walnut Grove, Lt Tremlett
At the end of Lent, what have we learnt? Personally i found that the craving for red meat I experienced in the early weeks was totally assuaged by a food that was being sold by a van that parks in the lay-by outside the “Hanged Man” on Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. A most healthy and nutritious vegetarian snack. It is probably too late to do so this year, but next year I shall most definitely be planting Doner Kebab plants in the allotment.
Ciara Meringe, The Old Stables, Gt Tremlett
The old vestry in Little Tremlett is such a wonderful place. Some of the vestments at the back of the cupboard are up to 100 years old, and I love to climb to the back of the cupboard, wrap myself in an old chasuble, and dream of priests’ sweat and old incense.
On my last venture into the cupboard, imagine my surprise when I walked out into the back, to a place where it is always the Diocese of London but never Southwark. Fauns gamboled in the snow, terrified that the Witch Queen would arrive.
Eventually I awoke, with a Churchwarden slapping me across the face and telling me my snoring had terrified her. She had to remove an alb from my mouth, which I had been chewing under the impression it was Turkish Delight.
Major J Dumpling, “Rodney’s Rest”, Lt Tremlett
As Spring has sprung,, I have once again been moved to poetry. I have composed the following – “Spring”
The snowdrops hastening to the earth
In turn see lilies come to birth.
The frogs that frolic in the lake
Cry out, the earth is now awake!
The singing bird up in the sky
Little knows that it is doomed to die.
For as it flutters in the light
It will be taken by a kite.
That new-born lamb with curly locks
Is eaten by a hungry fox.
The badger, prowling in the dark,
Will eat the young of snipe and lark.
And all the time, as the sun goes strong,
the creatures march to an ominous song
“Death, death, death, death.
Death, death, death, death.
Death, death, death, death.
Death, death, death, death.”
Wishing you all a happy Easter.
Mellissa Sparrow (Mrs), The Hollow, Grilsby-on-the-Hill