Letters to the Church Magazine: December 2015

Dear Sir

Truly the Church of England has been taking the lead in progressive theology over the last few years. Female vicars, female bishops and now a nudist female bishop!

If any of our clergy are inspired to follow suit, I suggest not at Midnight at Christmas. The heating has packed up again.

Yours etc

Ranulf Bling, Station Road, Great Tremlett


Dear Sir

I note that the Cholmondley pew in Woody Chapel has once again been left undusted for an entire summer.

I know that the word in the village is that we only condescend to join the peasants in worship once a year. And I concede that to be mostly true. But when I popped into the chapel last week to drop off the annual Orphan’s Fourpences – a tradition dating back 200 years – I was shocked to discover an inch of dust in the pew! I expect it to be properly cleaned before we attend Divine Service on Christmas Morning.

Yours etc

Rt Hon Alicia Cholmondley-Cholmonley, Cholmondeley Manor, Woodby Chapel End.


Dear Sir

We in Great Tremlett are supposed to be traditionalists.

So how come the Vicar has not marked Black Friday this year, instead getting us all down with Advent Sunday? I would like the PCC to bring forward the  motion that he should in future transfer Black Friday to the nearest Sunday. We haven’t had a good punch-up at the coffee counter since 1986.

Yours etc

Rob Runes, Church Lane, Gt Tremlett


Dear Sir

Once again I have reached the point where I should resign as Churchwarden. My time is up, I have kept the building in good condition and the churchyard paths gravelled. But I feel that it is maybe harder to give up the post than it should be.

I have frequently felt I should retire – let the next generation take up the baton. But something – call it the love of power, call it a sense that I need to be wanted, to fulfil a useful role – keeps making me hang on.

I suppose a lot of it is that, after being Warden for 65 years, resisting change, and threatening to walk out if the Vicar shows any signs of innovation, there are only two of us left in the congregation. If I don’t do the job, Samantha Giblings will be on her own. And all she does at PCCs is sing pop song lyrics in answer to anything the Vicar says. Though that means she makes more sense than the Vicar.

Maybe I’ll give it another ten years.

Yours etc

Felicity Broadstairs, Tremlett Road, Woodby


Dear Sir

A little money-saving tip – with patience, you can make amazing savings by buying seasonal goods after the Big Day, to use the following Christmas.  I have often bought seasonal goods in this way, and in the past have benefitted from deeply discounted artificial Christmas trees, LED lights, cards and crackers.

In retrospect, I over-bought in Tesco at New Year. And when the six children in Little Tremlett Sunday School saw the 45 “Frozen” Advent Calendar I bought for 10p each in January, the word “frenzy” would have been possibly the most appropriate to describe the effect.

I think the term is “sugar  rush”. Setting fire to the Vicar’s cassock, locking the Churchwardens  in the vestry with an angry badger and going up to the older members of the congregation shouting “can you be quiet? We’re trying to worship!” is most out of character. Especially for little Amabel, who is more normally to be found hiding her face from sheer shyness, not throwing tea lights at the choir.

This Christmas I am sticking to buying cut-price tinsel.

Yours etc

Cassandra Chamois, Peanut Cottage, Lt Tremlett


Dear Sir

I would like to apologise for my behaviour at the Wynter Fayre last week.

Miss Trehain’s home-grown pot pourri has deservedly found fame in the Trim Valley, and her sales have accordingly grown every year she has supplied it. Likewise her spicy brandy chutney is a must every Festive Season.

Unfortunately on this occasion, I made the mistake of inhaling too excitedly the rose petal and ginger scents, while tasting a mere soupcon of the chutney to see how it compared to previous years. They were both triumphs! And then, I had been waiting all month to try out my new Advent Calendar with a different gin behind each door. I know it was not yet December 1, but I figured that if I liked it, I would have time to buy another one.

How I came, an hour later, to be rolling around the churchyard, smearing my body with chutney and singing “Now is the Month of Maying”, is a complete mystery to me. I would like to thank the 3rd Tremlett Scouts, who hosed me down, and the Vicar, who locked me in the bell tower until I was somewhat calmer.

Yours etc

Major J Dumpling, “Rodney’s Rest”, Lt Tremlett


Dear Sir

The pagans who were congregating at the so-called Holy Well in the Vicar’s back garden have returned to Dorset for the winter season. However I am still unable to relax in peace.

With the winter now coming on, I am acutely aware of the cold weather – the wind howls through the loose joints in the caravan, annoying the wasps that are now trying to hibernate within the walls. This, combined with the  habit of some locals on the way back from the Hanged Man of tipping the caravan over on a Friday night, has resulted in me accumulating a number of stings as well as the inevitable bruises.

Thankfully Purity Cottage is now nearly rebuilt. I am assured I should be able to move back in, in March.  I pray that we have a mild winter, and the landlord of the Hanged Man loses his licence.

Yours etc

Martin Moraine, “Purity Caravan”, the back garden of New Rectory, Great Tremlett


Dear Sir

There has been a lot of loose talk in the Parish about the bizarre theft of all the black keys on the organ at Grilsby. Some have suggested that it is a strange pagan cult, possibly the one from Midsomer. However I would like to suggest it is an attempt to ensure we only sing happy music in future. Goodness knows we could do with some cheering up. Especially the way Eustace plays. In fact, we might all be even better off if the thief came back and stole the white notes as well.

Yours etc

Jeremy Stairswell, Crow Lane, Grilsby on the Hill


Dear Sir

Was it my imagination or did the vicar use an Overhead Projector for the songs at “Messy Church” the other Sunday? A slippery slope indeed from traditional Church of England worship towards something odd and charismatic. The use of “acetates” was never mentioned in the Book of Common Prayer. How has this type of cutting-edge technology started to creep in now?

If this kind of behaviour starts to occur, mark my words we will all soon be flying off to Toronto. And I cannot speak Canadian. Cranmer, where are you when we need you?

Yours etc

Chesney Peterson, Walnut Grove, Lt Tremlett


Dear Sir

Skin that flick
She’s such a little DJ
Get there quick
By street but not the freeway

Yours etc

Samantha Giblings, Church Green, Woodby


Dear Sir

This is to inform everyone that with immediate effect we will be discontinuing the Lady’s Pleasant Hour. We discovered that it wasn’t.

Yours etc

Romilly Randers, Cave Road, Little Tremlett


Dear Sir

I would like to suggest that we could adopt the popular “Reality TV” series, I’m a Celebrity Get me Out of Here, to the Little Tremlett PCC.

My theory is that we take all the PCC members and fly them to the Australian jungle, where they have to eat the unmentionable parts of kangaroos.

There would be no winner or evictions. Just getting them all out there would be the main thing.

Yours etc

Randy Shephard, Dag Lane, Little Tremlett


Dear Sir

Nearly Christmas once more! The thought of carolling in crisp air, mince pies, the crib and children’s happy faces has moved me to poetry again.

A VICTORIAN CHRISTMAS IN THE COUNTRY

The lantern light shines down the lane
With memories of olden days
When carollers with rosy cheeks
Would sing through foggy winter haze.

The roving band of minstrels then
Would sing most bravely ‘gainst the night
But then, when age or sickness struck
Would be interred far out of sight.

No more we hear from that brave band
Who sang and carolled along the track
They’ve gone off to a shadow land
Let’s face it, they’re not coming back.

So sing, you singers, hale and bright
And think not where you’re going to
Those ancient singers are all gone
It’s gonna be the same for you.

Death, death, death, death.
Death, death, death, death.
Death, death, death, death.
Death, death, death, death.

A happy Christmas to all in the Trim Valley, blessings and joy of the Season!

Yours etc

Mellissa Sparrow (Mrs), The Hollow, Grilsby-on-the-Hill

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