Sunday, December 5, 2021

5th December 2021 - A joyous Sound

 Yesterday tears welled in me as memories came back from the past. David had emailed could they cut the holly for the church for the coming Xmas.  Such memories are pushed well back, should they spring to mind I think of other things.

David and Jo, in their 80s have been together since meeting as children in India. He so tall, and of the old school, and she so small and talkative.  There she would be at the back door come for a chat, and I would help her off with her boots and for a couple of hours we would talk.  Often it was about the feral cats in the village, Jo had taken four kittens in they lived in their barn alongside the camper van they had.

David was the town crier for Malton, resplendent in his blue jacket and cockade hat, he would ring the bell and give out his declaration.  He did it in our village as well, I have photographs somewhere, he had to do it twice for I was late at the time.  

Jo would ring the bells of the church for any auspicious occasion, and would ask did we mind if she rang the bell at midnight.  Never I said, for it never worries me waking at night, I will listen out for the many barn owls, or maybe they were other owls, does it matter the naming of things?

The holly tree is by the small old building at the foot of the church wall, it was  next to our garden, and Paul was very protective of it, as he was of the whole village, and this was appreciated by many people.

The building had its own history, the village lock up in earlier times. The cottage had been built on the small pasture field next to the church. The field had had a small stable in it for a pony and before that had been the village butchers shop?  Everyone still remembered the field as the place the annual barbecue happened, though newcomers will not have any idea.    Yes I did find some bones as I dug holes for my roses.

Returning to David and Jo, from their barn was a flag pole, and the union jack would fly occasionally, and then the Welsh flag telling us they had gone down to their Welsh cottage.  Solid Brits, no I never asked about Brexit knowing we would be worlds apart.

I had had news that the first person to greet us into the village had died a few days ago.  I remember Peter Smith standing on the doorstep with a small box of tomatoes, graciously welcoming us, he was the church warden at the time and we met many people from being next to the church.  Talking to them as they tended their dead.

The saddest case was right outside to be seen from the side window, a young lad who had hung himself in his grandfather's pigeon loft on the other side of our house. His grave was always full of flowers as the family looked after him, keeping him alive in their memory and I think a younger sibling would come, often on an evening, to sit by the grave and talk to him.  Death is not always miserable.

And as it is Sunday Jo ringing the bells to call the meagre congregation to worship, not many sadly... Sorry about my terrible video making but you will see the holly tree and building.




11 comments:

  1. You should enter that video at Cannes next year.

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    1. Don't be cruel, I cut it down from 5 minutes to two minutes!

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    2. You'll need to show the full length version otherwise they may smell a rat.

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  2. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky, The flying cloud, the frosty light: The year is dying in the night; Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.

    How lovely to live next door to the church, focus of the village. I am glad that the other villagers are keeping in touch with you, especially at this time of year.

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    1. Very poetic Jennie, Tennyson could put pen to paper well. Must admit Jo's bell ringing could be somewhat hit and miss but her devotion to doing it cannot be ignored. One of the things about the villagers was getting them to do something together and we organised the barbecue in our time there. There were two meals during the year as well at the pub, I suppose with the Covid they haven't happened.

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  3. I think we do tend to remember sad things at Christmas, and be thankful for other things.

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    1. True, several birthdays that have long gone for me. It is called life;)

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  4. I have no faith as such and yet there is a poignancy to churches and graveyards - a reverence perhaps - that I rather like. Most of all I like the small welsh chapels with their box pews and their simple severe architecture. 'Are you chapel of church' my old neighbour asked me when I first came here - Neither, I replied, but I guess if I had to chose it would be chapel. 'You'll do' she said...

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    1. In my wanderings around I visited a chapel somewhere round Solva, and as I came out asked a lady for a place in the district, she practically jumped down my throat at my pronunciation of Welsh. I love Wales for its beautiful countryside but have often wondered about the effect of the 'English' colonisation.

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  5. you are good at the history of where you live. I hate outliving my history, if you know what I mean.

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    1. I think Tabor I just like researching, too late for a job change now but it is the small detail I love. People record history as they pass through.

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