Due to the weather the Carol Service had to be cancelled but a full church and hearty singing on Christmas morning went some way to make up for it. The congregation, looking and probably feeling like figures on a Christmas card, trudged through the snow to church. Charles had set the heat to come on at tea time the night before, so together with that and the largest congregation we’ve had on Christmas Day in years, the church felt almost warm. Our expensive and rather disappointing heating system, now that the pipes have been put underneath the seats, keeps the nether regions reasonably warm but the upper ones remain prey to the draughts blowing in from every corner. Still it could be worse and as our services seldom last more than an hour and winter can’t go on for ever, we shouldn’t grumble.

I have been dipping into the diaries of country parsons; Woodford and Holland, vicars respectively of Weston Longville, Norfolk and Nether Stowey in Somerset, whose churches, in common one supposes with most other village churches, were cold and damp, and as there was often a bit of roof or window missing, wet and windy as well. Poor Parson Woodford on Christmas Day 1794 walked to church on a cold, snowy morning with an east wind blowing, found very few communicants, and had just finished the Eucharist when he ‘was attacked with an epileptic fit and fainted away at my desk, the weather being so severely cold made me faint away’.

On a horrid, cold, wet Christmas Day in 1795, Parson Holland, vicar of Nether Stowey, having endured outside his window a few carols delivered by singers who ‘half drunk and with the most wretched voices tuned forth a most dismal ditty’ sallied forth to his cold, damp church with his feet done up, like the Pobble who had no toes, in red flannel. It was raining hard when church ended but clad in his gambadoes, a sort of leather wellie, two great coats and an umbrella and walked home to find ten persons in the kitchen awaiting Christmas lunch. Kindly parsons of the day, or rather their wives and servants were used to providing lunch for anyone who cared to drop in.

On Christmas Day 1799 he returned home to find the kitchen ‘well lined with poor neighbours, workmen, etc, many of whom stayed till past ten o’ clock and sang most melodiously.’ On Christmas Day 1782 Parson Woodford returned from church where ‘the following poor, old men dined at my house as usual; Js. Smith, Clerk, Richard Bates, Richard Buck, Thos. Cary, Thos. Dicker, Thos. Cushing, Thos. Carr, to each besides gave a shilling, in all seven shillings. I gave them for Dinner a surloin of beef rosted and plenty of plumb pudding. We had mince pies for the first time today.’ All cooked and served up by his niece Nancy and long suffering servant Betty.

Dear, rather dull Parson Woodford, lover of greyhounds and a bit of a greedy guts, as you will appreciate if you read his diaries but such a kind man, who on another occasion provided fifty three old men with Christmas presents out of his own pocket. The Church could do with a few more like him but I doubt if the women folk would be up to providing the number of substantial free meals dished out by the afore mentioned, long suffering ladies.

Lastly, I wonder how many have found in this bleak midwinter, their ears and spirits wonderfully warmed and uplifted by ten days of Mozart and the truly splendid readings from the King James’ Bible on the radio. Each reader lent his or her own interpretation to words, which however familiar, seemed, to me at any rate, as though heard for the very first time. Perhaps the B.B.C. will bring out a CD.

• Hope Bagot
• Greete with Whitton
• St Michaels (all services over the weekend)
• Coreley

At the moment, Burford, Clee Hill, Boraston, Little Hereford and Tenbury all look OK, but please check back before leaving!

Christmas is, must, always be a time of hope – hope that mankind, seemingly in an increasingly unhappy and desperate state due to its own greed and stupidity, may yet be saved from its headlong dash to destruction by that new energy which came into the world when somewhere in the middle east about 2,000 years ago God, in the person of a baby, sent a bit of himself to live amongst us as an ordinary person to show ordinary people how to live. He brought with him the promise of God’s unending love. Some people got the message, most it appears did not. So far as one knows God’s message has never been revoked and if he has not given up on us, so must we never give up on each other. Even if Luke’s story of Bethlehem with its shepherds and wise men, and angels is only a story it is by celebrating and retelling the story in the same traditional way year after year that we remind ourselves of that message and rejoice

The service was taken by Chris and the church, decorated by Sue, Di, Augusta, Lynn and Jan, looked and smelt lovely. We have to thank the same ladies not only for the decorations but also for the generous supper to which 33 hungry people did justice after the service.

Thank you all very much.

Poor old Lawrence, what a misery but I have some sympathy for I too hate the thought of winter, moreover, the long term forecast, for what it is worth, predicts a long and bitterly cold one, with snow for good measure. Still we have had some glorious days in October and November is set to be fair.

Our forebears, used to making the best of things, contrived to enjoy November as much as any summer month, celebrating after Halloween, All Saints Day on November 1st and All Souls Day on November 2nd with prayers for the dead and bonfires to light the departed on their journey. In case a visiting soul fancied a snack, food in the form of soul cakes was left on the table and soul singers sang soul songs around the village, expecting cakes and ale in the same way as when carolling at Christmas, any excuse for a party.

All Souls Day this year will have special significance for us as we remember our friend Anthony Russell and for those who knew her, our friend from Caynham, Marguerite Roberts.