GENESIS3
Chapter 12
My parents had come up in the world.They had always wanted to own a shop and while I was away they had at last been able to buy a fish and chip shop.It wasn't a bad little business either because it was situated right next to an aircraft factory and some smaller engineering firms whicn provided a very steady trade.The only fly in the ointment was that rationing was still in force and they couldn't get as much cooking fat as they would have liked,which restricted the number of times they could open.
The living accommodation could have been better and there wasn't quite as much room as we had in our old terraced house.There were only two bedrooms and the living room was behind the shop and,although this didn't really cause any problems when we were all three in the forces,as we returned home one by one it was a different matter and we became a bit overcrowded later on.
John had already been demobbed for some months when I got home but Robert had still some time to serve so we could manage for the present; indeed when I had my first midday meal after getting home it soon became clear that John was managing very well indeed and had got the fish and chip business thoroughly weighed up.The arrangement he had sorted out was that mother would leave 'something in the oven' and when he came home for lunch he could help himself whilst she and dad were busy with customers.That seemed a good idea and so I decided that I too would come home for lunch and join at whatever had been left 'in the oven' or alternatively on top of the oven.It was only when I had my first experience of the system in action that I realised just how well organised John really was and exactly why he preferred to come home even though he had quite a long bus journey to make.
I had a decent amount of leave to come so I took advantage of it and had a few weeks at home before going back my job.On the first day I watched with interest as mother prepared a large pan of tasty stewed meat and vegetables and left it simmering gently away on top of the oven.About half-past-eleven she went into the shop saying,"There's plenty there for you both you can have it now or wait for John to come.Please yourself.".
There was indeed plenty for two and as soon as John came in we dished the lot out between us and got stuck in.I then went to find the cake which had been left for 'afters' but John quietly slipped into the shop with his now empty plate.There was the sound of good-humoured banter from the customers in the shop and laughter when someone said,"By gum,I'd rather keep that one for a week than a fortnight.",as John returned to the living room with his plate once more filled to overflowing but this time with crisp, golden chips straight from the pan topped with the largest piece of cod he had been able to find and garnished with a generous spoonful of mushy peas.
From the shop a tantalising aroma had begun to percolate into the living room which was intensified when John returned with his loaded plate.As he began to eat the sight of his plate combined with the appetising smell proved to be just that little bit too tempting and although I had already taken a bite from a slice of cake I carefully laid it down on the table,picked up my own plate, and made my way into the shop."I wondered how long it would be before you turned up."said Dad,"Go on then,help yourself!There's just one rule though.If the shop's full you'll have to wait."The shop didn't open every day but on the days it did we lived like fighting cocks.After polishing off a first course of whatever was waiting 'in the oven' we would invariably be found,with our plates at the ready,waiting behind the counter for the opportune moment to refill them with a choice from a menu of Fish and Chips,Steak pie and Chips,Meat pie and Chips,etc.,etc.,etc..
Since most things were still on ration or in short supply,there were other advantages to having a shop.'Living on the shop' helped out our ration and we were also able to do very well for cigarettes which although not rationed were certainly not plentiful.In most shops it was a case of regular customers only which was quite a bind for people like us who had just come home and therefore hadn't had the chance to become 'regular customers' anywhere.Fortunately for us Dad also sold sweets and chocolate and had a tobacco licence which was unusual for a chip shop.This meant he had an allocation of sweets,which were rationed,and also an allocation of cigarettes and tobacco(for regular customers only of course).
It was a very small allocation and the regulars very few,in fact the most regular customer was Dad himself and then,as we each came home in our turn,so did his regular customers increase one by one,which made quite a hole in the allocation.Furthermore within a the first two weeks after coming home I had become engaged to Florence who also smoked and because dad always made sure she was alright for cigarettes we soon used his allocation and no longer sold any tobacco in the shop at all.The entire allocation was divided up between the family with just the one condition that we all also divide up the bill from the wholesaler when it came.It was some time however before we realised that Dad was still out of pocket on the deal because he had to fork out annually for the licence.
I was now gathering up the threads of the social life which I had enjoyed before His Majesty had decided I could be useful to 'his' Royal Air Force.First of all I tracked down Herbert but all he seemed to be interested in was the new white shirt he had bought for something he called 'the occasion'.We were talking for quite a few minutes before I realised that the 'occasion' was in fact his forthcoming marriage to Dorothy.Mind you he had every right to be pleased about the white shirt because clothes were still rationed and he had done a lot of shopping around to find one of good quality.
Next I contacted Eddie,who had always insisted he would never get married and would remain a batchelor all his life,only to be immediately introduced to his girl friend.I realised,even as he insisted that they were 'just friends',that she had other ideas and Eddie,whether he knew it or not,was well and truly hooked.Alan turned out to be married already and expecting an addition to his family,Albert was engaged but still had to fix the date,and so it went on as I contacted first one and then another of my friends.Everyone had matured,everyone's life had moved forward,and it seemed that nothing could ever be the same again.
But then I myself had also changed,although I was only just beginning to realise how much.The rest of the old gang had missed out on service in the forces for a number of reasons;Albert had been a Bevin Boy in the mines, for example, and Eddie and Herbert had remained in reserved occupations.I sensed that my attitudes were bound to be different to theirs because of my experiences during life in the R.A.F.,just as their attitudes were bound to be different to mine by virtue of their experiences in civvy street and,although I had felt obliged to look up my old friends,it was perhaps inevitable that we would never get back together in quite the same way again.Not so however with Florence.It took only a few days to realise that we both still felt the same way about each other and by the end of the first week home we could have been seen visiting jeweller's shops looking for an engagement ring.
Picking up the threads at work turned out to be no problem at all because my old firm had by now made the transition from machining aircraft parts to machining a variety of other components for commercial products..The main thing they were manufacturing was a washing machine gearbox for a local company and this was just coming into production.I soon found myself back on the job of setting up capstan lathes and other machines much as I had done during the war except that now those machines were being used to produce items that were useful for something other than mere destruction.
Having got engaged the next thing Florence and I had to attend to was the question of saving up for a house.We had decided we would wait if necessary rather than live with in-laws.We wanted to start with our own house.Perhaps we were being a bit ambitious but nevertheless we began house hunting,not too seriously because we were definitely very short of cash,but we kept our eyes open just in case.We also put ourselves down for a council house but this was a rather forlorn hope with a waiting list which was yards long and a points system giving priority to those most in need.Patience was clearly going to be our biggest asset for the time being but then,one evening as Dad was reading the local paper he said to me right out of the blue,"Have you seen this house going up for auction?It looks like it would just suit you."I saw that it would indeed suit us but I also could see no point in going to view it because it was,as I pointed out,well out of our reach and I also pointed out that we had not yet saved enough for a deposit.Dad wasn't put off,"Talk to Florence about it when you see her tonight",he said,"It costs nothing to look."
I did as he had suggested but neither Florence nor I could see how we would be able to get the deposit together and the payments on the mortgage would not be all that easy to manage either.When I got home late that night I told my Dad the problems as we both saw them but then he dropped a bombshell,"What if I buy it and you rent it from me until you get on your feet?".I was sure this would provide an answer and said that I would see what Florence had to say but I returned home from work the next day to find dad had got the bit firmly between his teeth."Get your tea down quick",he said,"I've arranged for us to see the house."
There was no way to get in touch with Florence so Dad and I had to go ourselves and the house was indeed very suitable.I decided to arrange for her to see it when I met her the following day but Dad still had the bit between his teeth and as I arrived home in the evening I was confronted by a large poster advertising the house with the word 'Sold' printed in glaring red letters right across the front.He had by-passed the auction and put a deposit on the house.I was a bit dazed by the speed of the whole affair and a bit annoyed in some ways because I wanted to involve Florence and for us to decide together.I remember wondering what she might say when I told her and wouldn't have been at all surprised if she had objected to being pushed too quickly and reacted accordingly.Gulping my tea down in great haste I went straight round to see her with the poster rolled up under my arm.I couldn't contain my excitement however,and as I went in I unfurled it and holding it in full view almost shouted the words,"Look!Our house!
I am sure that all her family thought I had gone a bit crackers and Florence didn't seem too sure of my sanity either but once I had explained what had happened she had her coat on in double quick time and we set off together to look at what we had got.I was still a little worried what her reaction would be but I need not have been,for she was delighted with what she saw.From that moment time seemed to fly along as we got started on the decorating, bought carpets,bought furniture,and booked the church, to say nothing of the thousand and one other things that must be done to prepare for a wedding and to move into a new house.Eventualy all was ready and the day at last came when I was seated there in the 'hot seat' in the front pew of the church,John was next to me as my best man and Robert,who had got leave for the wedding,was at the back of the church as chief usher.But what a long wait we had!
The church slowly filled with the guests and we waited.We waited some more as more guests arrived and began to shiver because the church was none too warm.We waited some more until the appointed time for the ceremony came and went and we continued to wait until the accepted limits of lateness,which the bride is allowed by tradition,had long passed.I sent John to find out what was going on and as he walked out of the church he was almost knocked over by the hurrying figures of my mother and dad who had only just arrived.Their taxi had been so late picking them up that they were sure the wedding would be over before they arrived There was a murmur of agitated,whispered conversation as they asked John what was going on.He remained firmly in control and told them to sit down whilst he checked.
I wasn't too long before he returned with the information that we had made an enormous slip up.We had chosen to get married on the same day as a cup-tie and half our guests were having to be brought in by a roundabout way because they lived close to the football ground."It looks like you're in for a long wait yet."John said,"But they've put a special policeman on for you at the end of the street so it will all work out in the end.I think the bit about the policeman was intended as a joke to cheer everyone up but the rest of it was certainly no joke and the vicar was heard to say,in a voice quivering with emotion,that it would be half-time before he got to his reserved seat in the stand.Our wedding must have been quite a trial for him one way or another because he had already had to apologise for the absence of the organist.It seems the two of them had fallen out the week before and the organist had gone off in a huff.
Once Florence did arrive everything went swimmingly from the time she came down the aisle looking radiant to the time we stood together at the door being showered with confetti as man and wife.In spite of not having the organ the service went really well and, although there were no hymns or other music,everybody joined in saying the psalms and responses with great gusto.It was as though they were all absolutely determined that nothing else would go wrong to spoil our day;so much so that the Vicar clearly sensed the atmosphere and apologised in his sermon,and afterwards in the vestry,for being a bit grumpy about the match.He completely forgave us for making him miss the first half and said,"What a pleasure it has been to officiate at a wedding where all the guests play a proper part.The bride and groom must really feel that everyone wishes them well."
We had determined that we would slip away for the honeymoon with as little fuss as possible so immediately after the reception at a local hotel we quietly left to change into our travelling clothes and collect our luggage before leaving for the station but the news leaked When we got to the station we were greeted by a crowd of wedding guests who gave us quite a hectic time as we waited for the train but,there were compensations.Someone had chalked the words 'just married' in enormous letters right across the compartment windows and tipped one of the porters to lock the carriage door so that our privacy was assured for us as we travelled to our destination.I pass lightly over the week's stay in Southport because after all such things are special to bride and groom alone.Let it suffice to say that after a week of honeymooning and a weekend in our 'new' house we were at once plunged back into the serious business of earning a living.
Florence actualy worked quite close to me,just across the road in fact, so we took our midday break together at a nearby cafe.Those super helpings of fish and chips etc. in my dad's shop were,it seemed, to be a thing of the past and he would probably have had a fit if Florence had turned up for lunch as well;but we ate well enough and had our main meal in the evening anyway.During the first week after the honeymoon I was treated to some samples of my new wife's cooking which wasn't bad at all.The only trouble was that we ate so well on the first four days that we were came close to running out of rations and on the way home one evening we weren't at all sure what we had left to eat.As the bus made it's way home and we got near the shop Florence said,"Do you fancy some fish and chips?Why don't we call in at the shop?"
It was quite a surprise for mother and dad to find that they would still be plagued by their number one son each Friday and,of course,they absolutely refused to be paid for what we had.So for a long time it became the rule that on Friday I would get off the bus at the shop whilst Florence would carry on home to get the table ready and the tea brewed in time for my arrival home with our meal properly wrapped in newspaper and with a supply of cigarettes.
Chapter 13
I renewed my membership of the Men's Institute at St.Mark's immediately on my return home but,because I had been so busy with my own affairs,I had not yet made any use of it's facilities.Neither,as yet, had I made any use of the church itself.I straightened up my subscriptions to the institute whenever I saw the treasurer but I never even set a foot in the building.This changed when my son Billy was born.
Florence and I had long agreed that I should have a night out on my own each week although I hadn't taken advantage of this as yet but,when Billy arrived,we soon found we were having difficulty getting baby sitters because her parents lived some distance away and mine,of course,were tied up most evenings in the shop.So it was that I then began to take advantage of my night out to visit the institute for a game of snooker or darts.I was a little self-conscious the first time I called in especialy after being away so long but I need not have been and, although there were a few new faces to be seen,there were also a lot of my old friends.It wasn't too long before someone said,"Come on Bill put your name down for a game.Let's see if you can still play snooker."and soon it was as if I had never been away.About nine-thirty one or two people began to put on their coats ready to slip into the pub for a pint before going home and I was invited to join them.My night out was complete and became even more complete when someone said,"Give us a tune Bill.".I needed no second invitation and stayed there on the piano until closing time being kept well supplied with all the drinks I could manage.I was just a little 'merry' when I got home but Florence didn't mind too much and soon my night out at the institute followed by a sing-a-long in the pub became a regular habit.
The institute ran competitions at Christmas for darts,snooker,billiards,and table tennis and I was just in time to enter for these.I presented quite a problem for the handicap committee because they had not seen me play very much and they could only consider my handicap on the basis of the way I had played before I went into the forces.I had,however played quite often in the N.A.A.F.I. and had improved quite a bit so that my handicap turned out to be a really good one.As the preliminary rounds were completed it became increasingly clear just how good that handicap really was.I got nowhere with darts,billiards,and table tennis but I breezed through the snooker until I found that,somehow,I was playing in the final.I was,however up against our top player,Danny, which I was sure meant I had no chance at all of winning.
The finals were played off at a special social evening with a potato pie supper and all the traditional trimmings such as red cabbage and pickled onions.When the handicaps were worked out it meant that I actualy recieved sixty points from Danny which wasn't as bad as it might seem because he was quite capable of turning in a break of anything up to one hundred.If I made just one mistake it could have meant the end of the match in very short time.I had plenty of advice from the spectators and a lot of support too because I was clearly the underdog The consensus of opinion was if I played safe I might very well win because Danny was known to be a bit impatient and would often make mistakes when under stress.It was up to me to try nothing fancy and go only for the easy shots.I took the advice and sure enough Danny's impatience began to show and the game went very well until I missed an easy pot and he was away.From that one mistake he made a fifty break and my lead was down to ten.Then he left me snookered.
I was hopeless at getting out of these and my lead began to be wittled down as one by one we got through the colours and by the time we got to the blue Danny looked like shifting everything.Then the stress took it's toll and he missed giving me one last chance to make a name for myself.I got the blue down nicely,I got the pink,but only just,and with the black hanging over the pocket I played the last shot as if it was the hardest there had ever been and breathed a sigh of relief when,after what seemed to be an eternity, it slowly dropped into the pocket.The competition was over.I had won my first(and last )Christmas handicap.
A game I always enjoyed during the summer season was cricket.Not that I was a good player myself,far from it,but I liked a game and,although I always went in at number ten, I seemed to fill a need and otherwise functioned as an enthusiastic,but not always successful, fielder.We at St.Mark's played our home games on the local reacreation ground because the fees required to hire a pitch were,at the time,beyond our means and we were not the only team to use the local 'recs' for reasons of economy.Most of us were however,if we wanted to play a decent game of cricket,being forced to get down to finding the fees for a better class of pitch.The reasons for this being amply illustrated by the following story.
For those without experience of matches played on the 'rec'
perhaps I should try to describe what a recreation ground was like.In our case
it consisted of a large patch of ash and cinders surrounded by very rough
grass.The ground was crisscrossed by two diagonal paths from corner to corner
which were eroded by the clogs of the local factory workers going to and from
the local mills and these paths weretopped up frequently by further lorry loads
of cinders and ash.Nevertheless they never actually reached the level of the
surrounding grass and were sunk down by anything from a couple of inches to a
foot.On such places one was expected nontheless to find space for either
football or cricket pitches according to the season.It was just as well that
fripperies such as wearing 'whites' for cricket or shorts for football were
unusual.Long trousers for football were probably essential if you were to avoid
a kneecap full of cinders every time you fell and similarly whites would not
have been white more than a couple of minutes once the ball had kicked up a
cloud of ash or cinders.
A new top dressing of cinders was long overdue so that the path along which
we had to set up our wickets was very well worn down.The best bit was also
the narrowest bit which made things worse but there was no real choice,wherever
we pitched the wickets there were going to be problems and we just had to
make the best of things.We set up the pitch and soon our opponents arrived,"You don't expect us to play on that do you?",their captain almost spat out the
words;"Sorry we've no other choice"our captain answered,"Anyway it's the
same for both sides you know."United in adversity the two of them went off
to try to get the other match to move their pitch and give us both a chance
for a decent game."Too late mate we've started and there's a quid a man on
this game.",was the only reaction.High class cricket indeed!Thoroughly
overawed,our two captains could find no other solution except to make the
best of it."It's the same for both sides."they repeated despairingly as they
reported back and we just had to get on with the game.Strangely no one even
mentioned abandoning the match,that was unthinkable!
St.Mark's lost the toss and we were put in to bat.Our number one took his
place at the wicket,asked the umpire for 'leg and middle' and,as he did so,tapped
the mark scored in the ashes which represented the crease.A cloud of dark
grey dust rose slowly into the air and settled itself upon his shoes and
the legs of his boiler suit..The opposing bowler took the longest run he
could without actualy getting involved with the 'quid a man' match which
had now started then he charged down towards the wicket.The ball shot from
his hand,flew like a rocket towards our man and landed against the raised
side of the so-called pitch,where it then 'broke' in the most incredible
manner.Indeed it ricocheted almost at a right angle to its original flight
path missing the wickets by a mere hairs breadth.Our man didn't even raise
his bat.Whatever had happened to the ball after it hit the ground was a complete
mystery as far as he was concerned.The bowler gave a wicked grin and prepared
for the next ball.
No longer worried about the closeness of the other game he took the shortest
possible run and aimed for the same spot in the ashes which had so nearly
brought disaster to the batsman before.Again the ball ricocheted and,with
even more dramatic effect,as our man gave a tentative wriggle of his bat
showing at least a willingness to try,even though he hadn't the remotest
chance of hitting the ball.But he had hardly made a move as the three stumps
behind him were neatly knocked down almost sideways to the crease.It seemed
indeed that the ball had in fact knocked them down from the side and not
from the front but,be that as it may,he was without doubt definitely,and
beyond all argument,out.Let us save embarrassment for our apparently doomed
team as we pass over the rest of the innings gently and quickly and let it
be sufficient to record that we were all out for the magnificent total of
twelve and some of those runs were byes!But wait!There's more!
None of us were particularly happy about the way our opponents had made use
of the peculiarities of the pitch and there were mutterings about poor
sportsmanship and gamesmanship as we took a short break before taking our
positions in the field.On overhearing these remarks (as he was meant to do)
their captain simply shrugged his shoulders and repeated once again,"It's
the same for both sides you know."."Right if that's the way you want it that's
the way you'll get it.",said our captain and put himself on to bowl the first
over.After all we often had to practice on that same path and knew all there
was to know about playing on cinders.
Our bowlers took advantage of every lump and dip in the pitch.If our opponents
thought they had found one bad spot we soon showed them any number that were
even worse.Where they had used one banked up side of the path we used both
and also used a bump in the middle of the pitch which they never even thought
of but which we knew well because all our efforts before the match to level
it out with rake and stiff brush had failed abysmally.Same for both sides
was it?Oh no it wasn't,as they soon discovered..
The game had started at two-o-clock and we were all out by twenty past,an
innings of twenty minutes.Our opponents went in at two-thirty and were packing
their bags at two-forty five.An innings of less than fifteeen minutes and
we had won by three runs.
Chapter 14
Because St.Mark's was housed in a temporary building all our various
organisations such as Mothers' Union etc., had to make use of an extension
which had been added to the original building and which provided an extra
room separated from the church by a flimsy wooden partition.This was woefully
inadequate for it's purpose and could only accommodate one organisation at
a time which meant that it's use had to be strictly controlled.Because of
this the Men's Institute had to be content with just three nights a week
and could only have a limited amount of games equipment.There was just about
enough room for a small billiard table which was supplemented by one card
table and one dart board and it was often necessary to wait quite a while
to get perhaps just one game of billiards or snooker.
One night as I waited my turn to play snooker I heard someone playing the
organ in the church and on enquiring was told that it was George for whom
I used to blow the organ.I had some time to wait so I went into the church,stood
quietly behind him until he stopped playing,and then took the opportunity
to ask if he would mind me practising occasionaly.Having recieved his
permission,any time I was waiting for a game I would have a go at a few hymn
tunes.It was much less bother to have a practice now because the organ boasted
an electric blower which did away with the constant search for someone to
pump by hand.My motives for practising were,however, purely selfish and I
had no thought at this stage of my life beyond enjoying playing just for
my own pleasure.
It was only when George gave up as organist and one of the Sunday School
teachers,Eva, who deputised occasionaly took his job,that I began to deputise
for services but I would only do this on condition that I was given plenty
of notice so that I had time to learn the hymns.Eva found the choir practices
a bit difficult to handle by herself and I tried to help her with them.It
wasn't long before I was back in the choiromehow got me back in the choir
and almost in the same position as I had been before going in the forces.I
began to attend church quite regularly since it seemed I had now become
unofficial,acting,unpaid,deputy organist I felt this was only the right thing
to do.Then the next thing I knew was that Eva decided to get married,moved
to another part of the country,and I was asked to become official
organist."Well,just until you get somebody",I said, little realising just
where this would lead and that a lifetime later at seventy years of age I
would still be occupying the organ bench.
Chapter 15
It was very gloomy in the church as I sat at the organ practising by the
light of the one solitary lamp suspended over the keyboard.In the vestry
there was to be a meeting of the church council but this was none of my
concern.From the corner of my eye I had seen various people slip through
the gloom and enter the vestry and one of them had asked me to keep an eye
out for a visitor and show him where the meeting was to take place.Out of
consideration for the meeting I had reduced the organ to it's quietest stop
but beyond this I was far too concerned with getting the music right for
Sunday to take any notice of anything else.
It was now some months since I had agreed to play 'just until you get somebody'
and,although I felt I was improving,I was still very far from confident of
my own abilities.For the past hour I had endeavoured to improve the singing
of a number of unresponsive choirboys and now it was my turn to try to improve
my own very inadequate talents.I was still at the stage where each week presented
me with a hymn I had never played before and moreover I had already gone
through a rough day at work so that life,for me,was proving a hard experience
at the time..
It wasn't long before I noticed a figure peering through the gloom at the
far end of the church which proved to be that of a clergyman whom I had never
seen before.There was little communication between us beyond his brief reply
to my greeting but he was indeed the visitor who was expected so I showed
him where to go and continued to practice as quietly as possible.
Curiosity made me carry on until later than usual hoping to find out what
was going on but when the time got past nine-thirty I had to leave in order
to keep my promise to be home early.However,just as I began to make my way
to the door,two people came towards me from the vestry.One I knew very well
because he was the vicar of our parish church but the other was the stranger
I had seen earlier.Introducing me as,"Bill, our organist at St.Mark's" the
Vicar said, "This is Mr. Bolt who will soon be your Priest-in-Charge.".I
must have looked completely mystified so he took great pains to explain to
me just what the meeting had been all about.
St.Mark's Mission Church was destined for greater things and was to become the base for a new Conventional District which would eventualy become a parish in it's own right when a suitable church was built.The fascination which
the idea of building a new St.Mark's Church had always had for me returned in full measure and the fact that St.Mark's was also to become the focal
point of a new parish came over to me as a magnificent opportunity for the
work of the Church to grow and move forward but the first conversation I
had with the clergyman who was to lead us in this project could hardly have
been said to be earth shattering.
"I am very pleased to meet you.",said Mr.Bolt,"I was so pleased to find we
have a proper organ and an organist.It's so much better than having to rely on a piano or harmonium as so many mission churches have to do.".I could
only hope that he would still think the same way after he had heard me play
for a service.
It was always 'Mr.'Bolt from then on.No one ever had the temerity to call
him by his first name of Phillip and he never encouraged any form of address
other than 'Mr.' throughout his incumbency.I believe he would have liked
us to use the title of 'Father' Bolt but there was a streak of low church
tradition in St.Mark's people which refused to accept this.'Mr.'Bolt he became
and 'Mr.'Bolt he remained to us all but he always insisted on giving the
same measure of respect to everyone else.In my case I was always 'Mr.'Bates,and
our churchwardens were 'Mr.'Redhead and 'Mr.'Bland.The ladies too were addressed
respectfully as 'Mrs.' or 'Miss' and soon it became the most natural thing
in the world to use these formal modes of address when we were with our parish
priest although we would slip comfortably back into the use of Christian
names when he was not present.We soon came to accept this as the proper way
for people in a Parish Church to address each other although,of course,this
is far from the case.Christian names are for Christian use after all and
it should always be the completely natural thing for members of the Church
to get onto first name terms immediately they are introduced to each other.
We were a funny lot at St.Mark's in many ways.It was as if the consciousness
of mission had gone astray until it was more important to build up 'our'
church rather than build up 'God's' church.We were 'parochialy minded' Christians
without a parish to be 'parochialy minded' about and had become very inward
looking even to the extent of being fiercely resentful of anything that might
be construed as interference from the parish church to which we owed our
allegiance,that is,the Parish Church of All Saints.How much would we have
to change I wondered.It was certain there would be changes because there
had to be.Would we become more aware of the wider Anglican Church to which
we belonged?Would there be some who would find change too difficult to accept
and would leave our ranks?It was not long before such questions as these
had to be asked and answered.
When I first began to play for services we were still firmly tied to the
apron strings of our 'Mother Parish'.There was Holy Communion at nine-o-clock
on Sunday morning presided over by the Vicar from All Saints and Evensong
at six-thirty taken by their lay-reader.Evensong was regarded as the main
service.I chose my own hymns and nobody worried what they were as long as
at least one of them was suitable for the season and this meant that if any
were a bit too difficult for me I could always practice them in good time
or choose something else.However I was getting more used to things as time
went by and,since we only had hymns for Holy Communion,I didn't have to worry
about all the other things which in a parish church are usually sung,such
as The Gloria,The Creed;the Agnus Dei,and so on,although for Evensong I was
expected to play everything.
For a few weeks things went on much as before.'Mr.'Bolt did some things a
bit differently and he put an extra hymn into the Communion service but that
was all.However,as soon as he and his wife had got themselves settled into
the house we had bought for use as a Vicarage,I was no longer allowed to
choose all the hymns,which meant I was more frequently faced with tunes I
didn't know;but I managed,and although wrong notes became a more regular
hazard,I consoled myself with the thought that anyway I was only 'temporary'
and no doubt 'Mr.'Bolt would soon find someone more professional.
One thing I had to get used to was the presence of two new faces at each
and every choir practice.Our new Priest-in-Charge and his wife always turned
up for practices and although I found this a little disconcerting at first,so
did the choirboys,who were indeed so completely overawed that they became
models of correct behaviour and total concentration on their singing;at least
for the first few weeks.After each practice Mr.Bolt and I would exchange
little other than a few pleasantries until as we got more used to each other
we began to talk a little more about each other's ideas in regard to the
conduct of services.It was then that I began to realise that in these matters
at least we had a great deal in common and we both wanted the services of
the church to be enjoyable vehicles of worship and praise.
Although the form of the Sunday services remained essentialy the same it
was clear that for Mr.Bolt the main emphasis had to be placed on Holy
Communion.This was to become the most important of the Sunday services and
was,for him,the first and most essential step in our growth towards parish
church status; but there were a significant number of the old stalwarts of
St.Mark's who could only see this as a move towards 'High Church' practices.Of
course in a sense this was true but this was far too simplistic a view and
the fact was that St.Mark's services were quite dull and we simply had to
move up to a more attractive form of worship if we were to get anywhere at
all.More music and indeed more ceremonial were not so much a move towards
'High Church' as a move towards the kind of services which were becoming
common to the majority of parish churches.Personaly I found a new and more
rewarding form of worship than I had known before and as I gradualy learnt
more and more of the music for the Holy Communion service I found this was
adding a new dimension to my personal view of the Christian faith.
As the weeks went by we progressed to the use of the full Merbecke setting
of the Communion Service and with more music came more ceremonial, which
some people complained about, although I was so busy trying to teach myself
and the choir that I didn't really notice this too much.However I could
sympathise,because people were,after all,being asked to suddenly change something
which had served their need for worship for a good number of years.In most
cases these were people who had worked faithfully to keep the mission church
going most of their lives and felt they deserved some consideration.On the
other hand there were some who were too inclined to put the label 'High Church'
on each and every change regardless of it's nature and this could not always
be justified.Surely the simple rule in such matters must be,'Only the best
is good enough for God'.Each one of us knows in our heart whether we are
offering of the best and should we not also have a tolerance for those of
our fellow Christians who seem to need a different aproach to worship to
ourselves.In the end all we are all concerned to do is to obey the basic
command of Jesus,"Do this in remembrance of Me." to the best of our abilities,and
to follow His teachings.
As I had become more confident I had learnt to play a few voluntaries,although
they were very simple ones,and I played for a much longer time prior to each
service than had been the accepted thing in the past.Indeed someone objected
to this at a P.C.C. meeting saying a former curate had ruled that only a
few minutes should be devoted to organ music before the service.Mr.Bolt took
the trouble to tell me personaly of what had been said and asked my views
about this.I replied that I thought the only restriction on voluntaries should
be the common sense one that they should enhance the mood of people as they
entered church and should be played reasonably quietly.I was relieved to
find we saw absolutely eye to eye on this and I feel that from then on we
supported each other as the existing Holy Communion service became transformed
into a fully fledged Sung Eucharist.
Each time something was changed or some new form of ceremonial was added
to the service My.Bolt took great pains to explain it's significance and
usually did this during one of his sermons.The change of name from Sung Communion
to Sung Eucharist was explained by making comparisons to the other names
used for the service such as,The Lord's Supper,and the Mass which really
in a nutshell ammounted to saying,"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." but I began to wonder whether this was really doing any good when
only some two weeks later one of the men in the choir remarked on the changes
to the service and ended by saying,"You know, I rather like this service of Sung Eucharist but I make nowt of having Mass as they do in High Churches."Perhaps he was one of those who can only hear that which they want
to hear.
Nevertheless it must have been increasingly clear to everyone that it was
not just the service which was being changed but attitudes.We had been accorded
the priviledge of building a new power house for God and with that priviledge
there also came responsibility.The responsibilty of preparing ourselves to
use that power house properly and well.
Chapter 16
When our 'Priest-in-Charge' came to St.Mark's the weekly income was somewhere
around two or possibly three pounds per week.In fact three pounds would have
been a very good week such as one might expect at Easter or Christmas.We
just about managed to get by on this but only because it was supplemented
from time to time by income from special events such as the Annual Garden
Party,Jumble Sales,and so on.Without such things we could never have survived
so how then were we going to raise enough money to build a new church?
There was a rule at the time that a paid servant could not be a member of
the Parochial Church Council and I came under this category because I was
paid the princely sum of œ8 per year for my work as organist and
choirmaster.I didn't particularly mind not being on the P.C.C.and anyway
those who were members seemed quite capable.My job was to play the organ
and try to build up a choir and I was quite happy to do this(untill they
got somebody else of course).I had noticed however that all was not exactly
sweetness and light in the P.C.C. and there seemed to be much more argument
after every meeting than there used to be.It seemed that Mr.Bolt was a man
with a mission who knew exactly what he wanted to do and intended to do it
even if he had to tread on a few toes in the process.
Strange isn't it how some who say little during a meeting will wax most eloquent
in informal groups afterwards?It would seem only logical that the exact opposite
should apply for people are,presumably,elected to committees and similar
bodies for the purpose of airing and discussing all possible points of view.Not
to do so implies either that one has no special points to make,or that one
agrees with what is going on.To say nothing and then to argue afterwards
means that the deliberations and decisions made during a meeting are more
likely to be wrong or ineffective because they have been made without adequate
information.
Many projects were undertaken during the first two years of Mr.Bolt's 'reign'
although not always successfully.There was no shortage of ideas and there
seemed to be enough people who were willing to put them into effect.That
hardy old standby of money raising "The Mile of Pennies' was revived in the
form of a 'Ring of One Pound Notes' around the church. For the purpose a
scale drawing of the existing building was placed on the notice board and
a line shown which grew progressively longer as pound notes were given.Then
of course it wasn't long before someone suggested we put up a 'thermometer' at the entrance to the grounds to show all the world how far we had got each month. > >
That thermometer became a damned nuisance as far as I was concerned because each week I had reason to walk past it quite frequently and as the months passed by it began to look more and more like an accusing finger pointing up to heaven.The red line,which was supposed to show how well we were progressing and thus encourage us,never seemed to get any closer to the target.Indeed, however many events were held and however successful they were,all that thermometer ever had to say was,"You'll never do it!".It only told us how far away from success we still were and not how near.The memory of that stark finger pointing heavenward left an indelible effect upon my attitude to church fund raising.Show me a church with a thermometer in front of it and all I see is a dinosaur waiting for extinction!
Much of the existing building fund had already been used to buy land for the church and to buy a house to use as a vicarage and now a large cross was erected on the land we had bought bearing the simple statement,'Site for St.Mark's new church.œ20,000 needed!'Much better than a thermometer in my opinion and although money didn't seem to be coming in any more quickly at least everybody must know what we wanted to do and the fact that land had been bought was in itself an encouragement..
In spite of the fact that money was being raised there remained too many who refused to see any good in anything that was done by Mr.Bolt.There were none,however,who would not have paid tribute to his sincerity of purpose.He was a man of God who had been given a job to do and he intended to do it to the best of his ability.Nor did he concentrate entirely on the need for money although he was sometimes accused of this.There was a noticable increase in the size of the congregation,especialy for the Sung Eucharist,and there were many completely new faces to be seen in church.There were also stories beginning to circulate telling of acts of kindness carried out for parishioners during his visits although, one must add, there were also other stories telling of a rather too authoritarian attitude.
We continued to hold the annual Procession of Witness in the traditional way but many of us began to think that this was being wasted as an opportunity for putting the message across that we were building a new church and a new parish.We were persuaded to splash out a bit by paying for a brass band to lead us instead of the scout band we usualy used even though it would cost quite a bit more and to help to defray the extra cost a fund was opened to which people contributed a few coppers each week.In a surprisingly short space of time we had the whole of the money we needed.
This small success led to more ideas being put forward and amongst them was the suggestion that,because there was still acertain amount of cynicism concerning our ability to build a church,we ought to have as much as possible in the procession emphasising the fact that we really did intend to build.Someone said, laughingly,"Let's borrow a lorry load of bricks and have that in the procession.You couldn't have anything more connected with building than that.",and so an idea was born.It was amazing how easily we were able to put the idea into effect,as first of all someone found a man who was connected with a brickyard locally,then someone else knew a joiner who would make a cross to go on top of the bricks,and so it came about that on the morning of the procession a large eight wheel lorry arrived in front of the church,polished to absolute perfection and piled high with a pyramid of bricks each one looking as if it had been lovingly polished and cleaned specialy for the occasion.A team of helpers soon added the finishing touches of the cross and some strings of bunting..
In the afternoon a truly magnificent procession left the Mission Church and made it's way around the newly established Conventional District of St.Mark.In the lead,carried by the head server,was the Processional Cross symbolic of the Cross of Christ which all Christians are called upon to follow,next the choir,and then the Vicar flanked on each side by the churchwardens.The banner,flapping noisily in the wind,was next closely folloed by the band and the various organisations of the church in due order.The Rose Queen and her attendants,the Sunday School,and of course the Mothers' Union,which is the most gently militant union of them all.Then last of all,looming over the tail-end of the procession,came that magnificent lorry bearing it's load of bricks with,perched perilously on top,a small group of men struggling to hold up a very simple wooden cross against the pressure of a very stiff breeze.A cross bearing the message,'We have the site!Now help us to buy the bricks!'
As the brass band belted out it's ponderous rendition of 'The Church's one foundation' and I looked back from my place in the choir,I couldn't help but remember another 'float' from before the war and a group of lads singing,'Any Rags,Bottles,or Bones.'