Dear Sir
Many people in the churches have commented that it seems a bit odd, that I will be taking two weeks off after Easter, when I am leaving my post at the end of the month.
I’d just like to put on record that I don’t care.
Yours etc
Revd Nathan, Tremlett Vicarage
Dear Sir
At Easter time, all the believers go around saying “Christ is risen” and singing their happy hymns.
But nobody gives any consideration to all the people who don’t believe Jesus was risen. This can be a very hard time for them.
This is why at Low Sunday Evensong, my sermon has no mention of the Resurrection. Or, to be on the safe side, God. I will be preaching on “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were all nice?”
Yours etc
Doreen (the Reader), Woodwind Lane, Gt Tremlett
Dear Sir
This May Eve, the coven will meet in Gervais’s Gully to bring in the Spirit of Summer. We will dance in the cool night air before washing our faces in the dew of dawn.
If the weather is inclement, we will instead have bingo in Woodby Reading Room.
Yours etc
Mildred Flossett (Mothers’ Union Branch Secretary), Jasmine Road, Gt Tremlett
Dear Sir
Can we confirm – when the vicar leaves, does he take the furniture with him or does it belong to the church? Only I fancy the sofa.
Yours etc,
Fennel Bailey, The Old Orchard House.
Dear Sir
And the car-parks going up
And they’re pulling down the pubs
And it’s just another bloody rainy day
Yours etc
Samantha Giblings, Church Green, Woodby
Dear Sir
I appear to have terrified the combined Mothers Unions of the Trim Valley at their Good Friday cake sale.
It was an odd day. Knowing that the 3-hour Meditation service would required all my attention, I spent the whole of Maundy Thursday night drinking strong brandy and coffee. I have some particularly wild Polish brandy, and a special “Double Espresso” brand that comes with an intravenous attachment. Mrs Dumpling has often used it to bring me round after Regimental Dinners in the past.
Accordingly, at 11am I was raring to go, and thought I would pop into the church hall to pick up a cake.
Apparently the thing that scared the United Mothers was my fixed stare. It is, I admit, a weakness with me that when I have drunk brandy and super-charged espresso, I am unable to blink. And instead of speaking, I have to resort to a kind of suppressed growl.
Oh yes. And I was inadvertently dressed as an orangutan. That is something else I do when I have been drinking that brandy. It brings on a kind of desire for the womb in me. Which I can only satisfy by climbing into the orangutan costume.
Actually, it is not really a costume. It is a genuine skinned orangutan. I accidentally killed it with a spear gun in Malaysia, under the impression it was a squid. All most complicated to explain. Anyway, that is why I was holding a spear. It was the one with which I killed the unfortunate creature in the first place. Bally tasteless, some would say, keeping the weapon with which one killed a beautiful, peaceful, intelligent creature. But as I often point out, it’s a very small trophy room. And I’ve got to store them somewhere.
So yes. I can understand that, while serving cakes and tea and making small talk, to be encountered by a growling large primate, waving a fishing spear, may have been somewhat frightening. I just wish that Mrs Ravenscroft had not attacked me with that cake slice.
I sustained rather a nasty laceration in my upper thigh. Also the orangutan skin suffered some damage, which has needed special repair. My friend Norbert Dranesqueezer therefore encloses an invoice, to the value of £74.22.
Yours etc
Major James Dumpling (retd), “Rodney’s Rest”, Little Tremlett
Dear Sir
A Poem: Dark as the Grave
In a garden of death, a new-filled grave.
A tomb. Quiet and still.
End of hopes, end of fears, end of dreams.Death death death death.
Death death death death.
Death death death life.
What?A happy Easter to you all
Mellissa Sparrow (Mrs), The Hollow, Grilsby-on-the-Hill
Writes of the Church 