GENESIS4

Chapter 17

It was Coronation Year and the whole of the day's ceremonies were to be shown on television.In our part of the country it had only been possible to receive pictures for a few months which meant that those who had a television set were very much in the minority and the ultimate in status symbol was to have an 'H' aerial on your chimney.Not all areas of the town could get a signal and part of the process of buying a set was to have a test for reception unless,of course,someone nearby had got there ahead of you but gradually more aerials were appearing until eventualy one appeared on a chimney in our street,and then,as the coronation got nearer Florence and I began to take more lingering looks in the windows of the T.V. shops untill we too eventualy decided to forego our holiday and buy a television instead.

The set we bought had become known as a 'Nine Inch Bush' or a 'Forty-nine Guinea Bush' based in the first instance on the size of the screen and in the second on the price.Forty-nine guineas (Forty-nine pounds and Forty -nine shillings) may seem a very small sum in these days but relative to the wages being paid at the time it was a very tidy sum.The wage of a skilled man was about eight pounds a week including overtime, so forty-nine guineas represented six or seven weeks wages.A modern black and white,or even a colour set with a twelve inch screen can easily be bought for far less than one week's wage.Be that as it may we took the plunge,bought a set,and found we had well and truly got our money's worth.

At the turn of a switch the world now came into our home.No longer need we go running for a bus on a rainy night to get to the cinema or the theatre but could enjoy entertainment of a high standard right there in the comfort of our own home.The telly was such a novelty that those with a set would often invite friends around to watch and it was also noticable they were prepared to introduce the topic of last night's viewing into any conversation at the slightest excuse.Gilbert Harding's latest bit of rudeness to a contestant on 'What's My Line' became a major topic even for the newspapers,and cricket fans would talk for hours on end about the marvellous view they had received of each and every bowler's action,and each and every batsman's stroke play.So much so that when two of the new breed of 'telly-addicts' got together it must have been an excruciating experience for their victims.One could even maintain a lengthy conversation solely upon the merits,or demerits, of the interludes.

These breaks between programmes were neccessitated simply by the fact that they were transmitted 'live' and therefore provision had to be made for changeovers,for programmes running over or under their allotted time,and,of course,for the inevitable breakdowns which we had on most evenings.These breaks could last anywhere from a minute upwards and on occasion were known to last an hour.Whilst the engineers and the actors were struggling to get us back to the programme we would be treated to a scene of tropical fish doomed to swim in an endless circle whilst trapped inside our nine inch screen or,to a panoramic view of a line of combine harvesters in perpetual motion across a wheatfield towards an ever receding horizon which they were fated never to reach.Of course the daddy of all the interludes was undoubtably the potter's wheel upon which an unknown potter worked ceaselessly to produce a vase;a vase which was never finished and which he must perforce continue to work upon during the next interlude and the next,and the next.Are those tropical fish still swimming in their tank in some dark forgotten corner of the B.B.C.?Are those harvesters still relentlessly heading for that far horizon and did that potter ever manage to finish his vase?I suppose we shall now never know.

But let us return to the coronation.This was the topic which took over from all others as the great day drew nearer and it seemed that more and more people were either buying their own sets or had arranged to watch at a friend or relative's house.We were expecting a houseful of people most of whom appeared to be friends of our son Billy.On the day half the kids in the street were in our living room and we found out later that the other half were in the only other house in the street with a telly.We ourselves had also been very liberal with invitations and as a result we had a shortage of seating so that a few of the kids had to sit on the floor;but they were quite happy there,especialy when they saw the mountain of sandwiches and cakes Florence had prepared and the large supply of iced lollies,jelly,and crisps.Everyone soon settled down and,as we fortified ourselves with the first of many generous mugs of tea and plates of food,the events of that memorable day unfolded behind our little nine inch window on the world.

From the very first minute of transmission to the very last we were transfixed in our seats spellbound by the pageantry and splendour of it all.There we were on the streets of London!There we were in the Abbey!There we were with the crowds thronging the processional route and,at the end of it all,there we were in front of Buckingham Palace waving and cheering as the Royal Family appeared on the balcony.We didn't miss a thing and during those few periods when there were gaps in the pageantry there was always some kind of refreshment to fall back on.Furthermore the transmission never broke down even once!!

About five-o-clock everyone began to leave for home.Everyone,that is, except our next door neighbour.The only thing left to watch was the children's programme 'Muffin the Mule' but,as Muffin cavorted across the screen,our friendly neighbour showed little sign of movement.Eventualy he was the only person left and even then he showed no sign of making a move but just sat there as if hypnotised.Soon the signature tune 'we love Muffin,Muffin the mule.' signalled the end of the programme and still he showed no signs of going home.Florence began to make a great show of clearing all the empty plates and mugs away and started washing up with as loud a clatter of crockery as she could manage without breaking something,but even this had no effect until finaly there was only one thing for it.I turned the set off and said,"Well, that's it,there's nothing else on now untill half past seven.It's been a right good day hasn't it?"

He stayed there for a long moment still hypnotised by this amazing example of modern technology.The last glow of light faded from the screen and then,at last,with a tremendous effort of will,he heaved himself out the his chair,shook himself out of the magical world into which the telly had transported him and with a profuse show of gratitude returned to his own house.But the story doesn't end there for,one week later,that ultimate status symbul,the double H aerial,could be seen displayed upon the chimney next door and another 'telly addict' had been hooked.

Not only did the advent of the telly have it's effect upon theatre-going,cinema-going,and other evening entertainments but it also had a great effect upon all the traditional church groups.Mothers' Union,Men's Institute, etc, were bound to suffer when you think about it simply because people no longer needed to leave home and walk through wind and rain to find their entertainment.

At St.Mark's we may well have felt these effects earlier than most.I,for one,no longer found a night out playing snooker at the club to be half as attractive,especialy when the attendance began to fall as others began to feel the same way.I started to go to the club later in the evening until I realised that there were just two of us who were bothering to go at all and we were really just passing the time.After playing an endless series of games against each other night after night for some months just to keep the doors open we gave up the fight and allowed the Men's Institute to die as gracefully as possible.

It is debatable whether this loss had a good or bad effect upon church life.There are those who would argue that we lost a valuable contact with the community and there are those who would say that time and talent was made available for better things.Perhaps the answer to this will never be fully known but the fact remains that today a new church does exist dedicated to St.Mark and amongst the present day community of Christians there has been no call,as yet, for the revival of a Men's Institute.

The Church of England Men's Society now became the organisation to which men looked for fulfillment in their role as Christians.The society not only became concerned to find out in what ways they might best help with the work of building the church but also had a variety of speakers at monthly meetings,although there weren't all that many speakers available who would come to such a small branch as ours.Which led me to suggest,shortly after I was elected secretary,that we try a book discussion for a change.Mr.Bolt recommended a book which had been published by a certain Canon Ernie Southcote who had a formidable reputation although I had never heard of him at the time.The book was called,'It begins in the parish.' and much that it contained was very appropriate for us in our situation.Frank,a committee member, undertook to start the discussion off so I gave him the book and left him to get on with it.

There was an excellent attendance for the next branch meeting and what little business we had was soon out of the way whereupon Arthur,our chairman,keeping the formalities down to a minimum,said,"Right here's Frank.You all know him and he is going to start our discussion off for us.".Frank rose to his feet and dropped the book with a gentle thud on to the table."Well",he said,"They call this book 'It begins in the parish' and I don't think much about it."

A nice controversial start.",I thought,it seemed to me that we might get a good argument going and we certainly seemed to thrive on argument at St.Mark's.I waited for him to continue but Arthur just looked at me and said nothing!The rows of expectant faces before us also waited for his next comment but we all waited in vain as Frank left the book on the table between Arthur and I and returned to his seat,clearly content that he had done his job;he had read the book,he didn't like it,and he had said so!I almost expected him to end with the classic phrase,"I have spoken!".Disaster stared us in the face and there was only one thing to be done.I had suggested the discussion and chosen the book recommended by Mr.Bolt so it was up to me to show it was worth talking about.

One thing in the book had struck me particularly forcefully.Ernie Southcote had made a great point of the fact that it was essential for Christians to be prepared to move outward from their church and into the parish and the community around them.In this context examples were given of ways in which this might be done and indeed in which it already had been done in some parishes.Some,for example,had regular distributions of newsletters besides the more usual monthly magazine.I was a little unsure of my ground but thought this might give us a start so I lobbed a gentle 'first service' in the direction of Mr Bolt by mentioning the newsletter idea and asking what he thought about it.To my relief he took up the theme as I franticaly thumbed through the pages of the book in case someone wanted a quote from it.

Almost of it's own volition the idea began to grow that we ourselves might find it useful to send out some sort of news letter .First one and then another expressed an interest and a very good discussion took place.I was only too relieved that things had worked out the way they had and would have left it there but one member insisted that we adopt a resolution to the effect that we,the C.E.M.S.,should make ourselves responsible for financing and carrying out the delivery of at least one letter on a trial basis.The resolution was passed and I ended up with the job of writing the letter and getting it printed,a task in which I was only too happy to pass on to Mr.Bolt.I have often wondered since if he had pushed the meeting along just the way he wanted it.It was certainly strange how that pilot letter of ours later became the basis for another one which went to every house in the parish.

Arthur and I took Frank firmly to task afterwards but he was completely unrepentant."I still don't like the book!",he said,"Anyway what are you bothering about it was a good meeting, wasn't it?"There was no answer to that!

Chapter 18 Because Lent is such a solemn season in the Church's calender it was the custom that the various organisations of the Church should suspend their meetings from Shrove Tuesday until Easter and attend together for a mid week service instead.It was Mr.Bolt's opinion that this was an essential part of the special efforts that are expected of all Christians during this time although,as you might expect,not everyone took kindly to losing the weekly Mothers' Union meeting,or the monthly Men's Society meeting.However these were not necessarily abandoned completely because if any organisations wished to do something in the way of extra voluntary work for the church at the time they would normally have held their meeting this was entirely acceptable.It was put on the same level as giving up smoking and using the money for charitable purposes.The organisations gave their meeting time and channelled their talents into church projects which might otherwise be neglected..

So it came about that the Men's Society was approached by Mr.Bolt with a suggestion that we might like to take on the task of giving the old 'tin tabernacle' a really good spring clean."Especially the roof trusses.",he said,"They really are in a terrible state."Although the building was cleaned regularly by a part time cleaner her work was normally confined to polishing and dusting once a week and mopping the floor once a month.It would hardly have been possible for her to clamber up a ladder to clean the beams especially for the money we paid her.Her work was supplemented by that of a number of volunteers whose main task was polishing the brasses and arranging the flowers but no one had ever thought about cleaning the beams until Mr.Bolt came.

Once our attention was called to it the amount of dust and dirt up there in the roof began to bother us all and memories were ransacked to try and remember just when they had last been cleaned.The plain fact gradually dawned on everyone that those roof trusses had never been cleaned since just after the church was built some fifty years ago when it had almost been destroyed by a fire in the roof.There was only one thing for it;the men of the church must take up the challenge.There were some who counselled the need for caution but this advice was hardly considered and the society agreed to use one of their monthly meeting nights during Lent to put their time and talent into this very necessary task.

We did not proceed without a certain amount of planning.First of all a couple of us did a preliminary reconnaissance to check just how much dust there was and how we would carry out the work.Clearly it would be necessary to keep the dust under control as it was swept down and we decided to damp the floor thoroughly beforehand.We would need to stack the forms and the various furnishings of the church out of the way and the altar must be covered and the organ protected.The actual sweeping would have to be carried out with extreme care by teams with two men in each and which would have to take turn and turn about so that they would not be too affected by the dust and all the volunteers would have to be warned that it was going to be a very dirty job indeed and they should wear the oldest clothes they could find.

About a dozen of us gathered together on our meeting night ready to start work.Most had taken the trouble to find some suitably old clothing and some sort of head covering and the left overs from the last jumble sale came in very useful especially as head coverings.The bags of left-over jumble would normally have found their way to the nearest rag and bone man but on this occasion they were piled there waiting to be used as extra protection for anyone who might want it but principally they were intended as extra cleaning materials.

One person had found an old knitted woolly hat and wore that,another had wrapped a piece of old curtain around his head,and everyone had some weird or wonderful headgear.Even Mr.Bolt had turned up in an old gardening suit and found himself a floppy hat from somewhere so that the end result was that we looked more like a band of pirates led by some fearsome pirate chief than like a society of churchmen.This all added to the enjoyment of the occasion, however, and we all had quite a time laughing and joking about the way we looked until eventually we got down to the job of stacking everything and covering the altar and organ.Then we damped down the floor with generous amounts of water to keep the dust under as much control as possible before at last the first pair of sweepers put up the ladders and started work.

The first few strokes of the brushes revealed the fact that we had completely misjudged the nature of the dirt up there.It turned out to be quite a thick,greasy dust which seemed to have a mind of it's own when it came to falling to the floor.It came down in thick,rich clouds which did not simply fall straight down but hung sluggishly in the air for what seemed an eternity before at last reaching the damp and glistening floor which was waiting to imprison it.At first this was no problem because we all quickly realised what was happening and were able to handle it,although the sweepers on the ladders had to take much more time with their task as we down below endeavoured to get the dust into the bags and containers we had got ready.Nevertheless the first truss was soon cleared.

The sweepers changed teams and moving to the next roof truss continued their work but the dust was piled even more thickly on this one and seemed to have even more of a mind of it's own until soon the air began to fill with greater and ever greater clouds of choking,greasy dust which seemed to be determined never to get anywhere near the floor.Eventually the flow from the beams became like some great Niagara into which we were plunged willy nilly without hope of rescue and about five minutes of this was enough to put we,who were down below,into a hasty retreat.We called to the sweeping teams to stop work but they seemed not to hear us.Being above the cloud they were the last to be affected by the black,sticky dust which threatened to swamp us down below them and remained oblivious to what was going on. we.It wasn't long,however,before even they realised the futility of it all and joined the general rush to get outside where we all thankfully gulped great mouthfuls of unpolluted air.It was a long,long time before the dust inside began to clear and then gingerly made our way back into the church with handkerchiefs wrapped around our mouths.

What a job we now had to face!Everything,even the items which we thought we had stacked well out of harm's way,was covered in a layer of what looked like chimney soot and we were now faced with even more clearing up than before we started work.No longer could we have been described as a bunch of pirates but had been transformed into a crowd of miners just up from the coal-face and waiting for their baths.Clearing up as best we could we returned home for a much needed bath but it took another couple of days before the place began to look anything like it's old self.Certainly that we had moved a great deal of dirt into the dustbins but even more certainly much more of it had simply moved to a different part of the building.The rest of the roof trusses remained untouched and from that day on the whole subject of dust and dirt in the roof trusses became strictly 'taboo'.Whatever there was up there in the roof would have to stay there until we at last had our new church.

Chapter19 It was one of those evenings such as we often get in the depths of winter.The street lights were half obscured in a frosty mist and my breath showed itself in the cold air as I hurried along the street towards the church.It was certainly not a good night to be going anywhere, least of all to a cold and barely heated 'tin tabernacle' constructed of wood and galvanised,corrugated sheets.Still I had to go because it was practice night and there would be at least some of the choir who would be braving the cold just as I was.

Everything appeared to be much as usual as I opened the door and walked down the nave of the church towards the organ.Certainly the atmosphere felt cold and frosty but that was not unusual for the time of year and,considering the wintry weather,it was only to be expected that the heating would not be up to the job of coping with what was,after all, a very nasty night.First of all I went into the vestry to get some music out for the choir to practise and then I seated myself and began to sort out my own music.I turned the blower on and,as I always did,settled myself down for a few minutes at the organ before everyone else arrived.It was only then that I began to realise that there was something very wrong.

The first organ stop I tried to pull out moved only slightly and with very great reluctance until I gave a more positive tug but,although it was very stiff,it seemed to be alright otherwise.It was no surprise to feel a quite excruciating stab of coldness from the keyboard as I tried a quick scale because I had come to expect this in wintertime but to find that hardly a note would play was quite another matter.As I tried again,and again,and yet again,there was little response beyond an anguished, pitiful wail like a sick child crying for it's mother.

I left my seat and stood back to look into the gloom surrounding the upper reaches of the pipes.There was an unusual sheen along each and every one of them and as I turned some more lights it became all too clear just what this was.My faithful old friend was well and truly in trouble.He was indeed freezing almost to the point of death in the grip of a terrible and all embracing sheet of ice!I opened up the side panel and took a look at the rest of his 'plumbing' and there found even more ice, some of which was in the form of small,but nonetheless perfectly formed, icicles.It was not hard to see what had happened.The roof,which had so far remained sound over the organ had sprung yet another leak in the very worst place possible and the dripping rainwater from this had spread around the pipework and become frozen into the bargain.Yet one more result of having to use a building well past it's sell-by date.

Needless to say that put paid to any thought of having a choir practice and as first,Mr.Bolt,and then the choir arrived I enlisted them as first aid workers in an attempt to get at least some semblance of music from the organ before Sunday,although clearly there was need for much more than simple first aid and we would have to get a specialist in urgently.

For the present, however, all we could do was to borrow electric heaters from anywhere we could and surround the organ with them.Inside we placed a couple of fan heaters and as the ice melted and dripped down we mopped industriously in an attempt to dry everything out.Although we didn't seem to improve things very much we were quite hopeful that there was a least an outside chance of the organ being usable by Sunday and we left as much heat on as we could before we went home.

The following day was Saturday and Mr.Bolt and I were there early to survey the damage in daylight.By then the ice had cleared and we could see roughly where the leak was. He at once disappeared to press gang someone into doing a temporary roof repair and in the meantime I tentatively tried out a few chords which,unfortunately,only served to confirm that on Sunday we would have a problem.This is exactly how it turned out and,as I struggled through the Sung Eucharist,I had to be thankful just to be able to get a rough melody going from the one stop which showed any semblance of normality.

The 'specialist', in the form of an organ tuner,arrived during the following week and more or less diagnosed a terminal illness but we somehow managed to soldier on for quite a while after that until the new church at last began to grow on it's site in Rossendale Rd..

Chapter 20

Some two or three months before Easter members of the congregation were approached by Mr Bolt and asked to take part in a Passion Play.I have always been a little careful about such things because I have difficulty memorising lines but I agreed to help provided I was given a non-speaking part or one with hardly anything to say.I thought little more about it until I heard the first rehearsal announced in the church notices a week or two later.

There was nothing unusual about the play.After all a Passion Play is a Passion Play and there is no way to change the storyline.It is the presentation that matters as much as anything.We had all the usual characters in our play,Annas and Caiphus the high priests,Pontius Pilate the Roman Governor,Judas of course,and a Roman soldier for good measure.The crucifixion was not actually presented on stage in our version nor did Jesus actualy appear because the author had seen fit to allude to these as events off-stage and the Last Supper was not referred to either.You may conclude from this that it wasn't the best pasion play that had ever been written but it suited the cast we had available and the little scenery that was needed was such as we could easily make for ourselves.

It was a mystery to me where the script came from but Mr.Bolt found it from somewhere as indeed he later found scripts for a couple of other plays we were persuaded to have a go at.Clearly there are those who supply such things for churches and evidently Mr.(or perhaps Mrs.) Bolt knew how to find them just as one of them also knew where to get the costumes which eventually arrived in a couple of tea-chests.At the first rehearsal we just sat around the room and read our lines and I couldn't help but notice the very stilted nature of the language used in the script which was very much like that in the play Snow-White which I had taken a part in when I was younger.Often it is the simplest statements which produce this effect for example,'did it not?' rather than,'didn't it.'or,'would not it' rather than ,'wouldn't it'.From the nature of the language I got the impression that it may well have been written for a cast of children.However by the second rehearsal some of us became bold enough to attempt our lines without the script and although this inevitably led to a number of hold ups the words gradualy began to flow more naturaly.Personaly I was pleased that I had insisted on a small part because it made for a much easier life.

From the very first rehearsal there were problems getting everyone together at the same time.For example Annas and Caiphas missed one of the earliest rehearsals because they were doing some decorating and at the same time Judas was in bed with influenza which,since their's were probably the main speaking parts,left the rest of us in a mess.Someone read their parts but this proved less than satisfactory and apart spending a great length of time getting John,who was playing a Roman soldier,to pronounce Annas and Caiphus corriectly we soon found we were at a loss to fill up the timeWe eventually used the last half nour or so to talking about problems we were having with the scenery,checking out the wardrobe,and deciding how we might improve the overall performance.

It was mentioned that a little background music might be a good idea and somehow it was arranged that I would play 'There is a Green Hill ' between the scenes and any other music which might be appropriate to help the whole thing to flow,which led to everyone enthusiasticaly suggesting ever more difficult pieces of music until that which I had thought was going to be easy work began to become quite a responsibility.

The wardrobe we had hired turned out to be quite decent and most of us were well suited,with the exception of our Roman soldier.The so-called 'uniform' we had recieved was so poor that we thought at first that it had been included by mistake.In the first place it was nowhere near big enough,and in the second place,it was totaly unrealistic and not a bit like the pictures we recalled from our school history books.The helmet,for example, looked far more like an old-fashioned fireman's helmet than that of a soldier.

The rest of us looked on with dismay as John tried to get into the 'uniform' with no success but,strangely,he showed no concern at all.Indeed he was surprisingly confident that our worries were groundless and assured us all that he knew someone who would sort it out.After all,who did you turn to when you had a hole in your sock,or your shirt needed mending?Why none other than your good lady wife who knew all there was to know about anything to do with clothing of any sort.With simple and unswerving faith he said,"Oh,don't worry,I leave all that sort of thing to the wife.She'll soon sort something out the way always does.What she doesn't know about dressmaking isn't worth knowing."

One cannot argue with a man of such deep and sincere faith or for that matter with one whose wife is clearly the apple of his eye.Tactfully we pointed out that something other than dressmaking might be needed,and there might be difficulties which all his wife's skills could not cope with,but he firmly brushed our well meant advice aside.Convinced of his wife's ability to solve any clothing problem,ancient or modern,he left the rehearsal room loaded up with what materials were available from the wardrobe and the last few words we heard from him as he headed for home were,"The wife will see to it.Don't worry!"

Since we all attended to our own costumes from then on we saw neither the soldier's uniform or any other costume except our own until the time came for the dress rehearsal when they were revealed to be admired or criticised.Considering the state we had recieved them in, they all looked reasonably impressive although,perhaps,somewhat less than authentic and even our Roman soldier's costume,about which we had such reservations,looked absolutely splendid.It was perhaps rather too elaborate but it would serve our purpose admirably and that old helmet positively gleamed!"The wife",we were informed,"has fairly used some elbow grease to get it like that."

Her real genius however was best revealed in the construction of his coat of chain mail.Over what had been an old-fashioned night shirt were fastened layer after layer of overlapping pieces of aluminium foil such as is used for chocolate wrappers.Closer examination revealed that they were indeed chocolate wrappers which had been carefully and lovingly trimmed to shape,ironed flat,and glued into place so that they might make a very creditable representation of a coat of chain mail.None of us was really certain that a Roman soldier at the time of the Crucifixion would have worn chain mail,but who was going to notice that anyway?Certainly,from whatever point of view you looked at that uniform,the simple faith that John had in his wife's capabilities would seem to have been entirely justified.In fact those from whom the wardrobe had been hired would get back from us all much better costumes than we had been sent in the first place.

Because the 'Tin Tabernacle' had to serve as a dual purpose building there was a curtain which could be drawn across the chancel step and because the play was to be performed in the chancel and sanctuary this served also as a stage curtain.At the side of 'the stage' opposite the organ there were temporary drapes which provided a dressing room on one side plus space to be used as 'wings' where we could wait for our cues.The organ was a fixture of course so this limited the area available but we managed and it suited me especialy well since I was able to get quickly to my seat to play the background music.Most of the cast used the other side of the 'stage' for entrances etc. whilst the scene shifters and I used the organ side.

There was quite a good attendance when the great day came and a buzz of anticipation percolated through the curtain from the audience as we took our places for the first scene.Annas and Caiphas played their parts almost like professionals as they duly got involved with Judas and arranged the betrayal.I was playing the part of some temple official and had only a couple of lines.My role was really more ornamental than anything else and as the time came for some background music I bowed my way out of the scene just before it ended in order to get to the organ seat at the appropriate moment.I replaced my spectacles ready to play the interlude I had so carefully worked out and I was agreeably surprised to find that my playing could hardly be heard above the almost thunderous applause which heralded the end of the first act.

At the start of the next act we first saw Pontius Pilate on stage with a Roman soldier guarding the door whilst Annas and Caiphas waited in the 'wings' for their entrance.Now was the big moment for John for he it was who had to announce the presence of the two high priests with the words,"My Lord,Annas and Caiphas await without.".But that once magnificent costume had suffered a bit as he was wearing it;no longer were those overlapping pieces of foil quite so firm,no longer were they quite so precisely anchored in place,no longer were they uncrumpled!Whilst waiting for his entrance John had actualy had the temerity to sit down and unfortunately,even his wife,with all her skills,had been unable to allow for that.

As he moved to the wings ready to go on stage to make his announcement,first one piece of foil,then another,fell fluttering to the floor until finaly a whole row of his 'chain mail' disintegrated.'Mary',who was just behind him in the wings,grabbed a handful of pins to try to repair the damage but it was too late,and our noble Roman had to move quickly before he missed his cue.With bated breath we all watched as he took a step forward and then a rustling sound followed by a gentle tinkle was heard as a piece of foil detached itself and floated to the floor.Gazing accusingly downwards at the offending chocolate wrapper our undaunted hero took another step only to see another piece of foil follow the first with a more insistent rustle and tinkle.Firmly placing his arms so as to cover as much of the offending area as he could he continued to walk forward until he arrived in front of Pilate whom he had to salute before giving his message.

Franticaly we signalled him to miss out the salute and had he done so all might yet have been well but that salute had been the subject of a great deal of rehearsal and he had spent hours getting it right just as he had spent hours getting his pronunciation of the names of the high priests right.There was no way he was going to leave anything at all out.Standing to attention before Pilate he moved his arm to the saluting position and the chain mail inevitably lost what little support he had been able to give it.A sound as of autumn leaves falling from the trees and a tinkling as of a chandelier blown in a light breeze then filled the air whilst a whole series of chocolate wrappers fell in a silver shower around his feet.He took his courage in both hands, finished the salute, exactly as rehearsed, (the show must go on and all that sort of thing), then confidently announced to the whole audience,"My Lord!'Cannas' and 'Ayaphas' want a word with you!"

How any of us kept a straight face must remain forever one of life's mysteries as we quickly carried on with the rest of the scene.None of us was without fault ourselves however and as Annas came off stage I noticed he had forgotten to remove his very modern spectacles and told him about it only for him to turn the tables on me when in reply he said,"That's funny Bill,I was going to tell you about your's."I too,as I moved from organ to stage,had dropped a clanger and left my glasses on!

In view of all that had gone wrong we were almost afraid of the comments that might come our way afterwards but strangely everyone was keen to tell us our play was marvellous and if they had noticed our mistakes they were far too polite to say so or perhaps they took pity on our distress.But the fact remains that you can't beat the spontaniety of rank amateurism such as ours for providing great entertainment both for those who take part and for those who watch.Part of the fun is that the players are known to everyone and another part of the fun is anticipating the mistakes that they are sure to make and enjoying the evening anyway.It is a shame that such home produced 'magic' is no longer seen as often in this present day and age.

Chapter21

Mr.Bolt was never afraid to point out our responsibilities or,for that matter,our failings.We were always being reminded that the successful completion of the new church would only come through total committment."Building a church",he would say,"is a priviledge with duties attached in which we are all called to share.",but often it seemed to many of us that any duties which didn't include the raising of money were being pushed into second place and furthermore those duties made ever more insatiable demands upon everyone's time.Nevertheless there could be no relaxation of our efforts as long as Mr.Bolt was about for he was unswerving in his purpose.It was very rare to hear a sermon from him in which there was absolutely no reference to the goal of building a new church and he could make some very pointed remarks when it suited him.So much so,that our men's society treasurer was heard to say many years afterwards that he often left church on Sunday feeling a like a whipped cur with it's tail between it's legs.However there could be no denying the fact that without strong,unswerving ,leadership there would be no hope of ever doing what needed to be done.

It was unfortunate that there were many very devout Christians in the congregation who seemed to shy away from all but the traditional methods of raising money although these were obviously failing to do the job.Some different methods of approach certainly needed to be experimented with if we were to move forward and get the œ20,000 which was the minimum we needed.There were no rich people amongst us and the average income of the congregation would be not more than about œ8 per week so there was no possible way to make progress except through the maximum commitment of all the Christian community both regular and non-regular worshippers.

Many were the ways we tried in the first two or three years.Dances were held for a time but support soon fell away and on one occasion those who were running them had to dip into their own pockets so that the church didn't make a loss.Possibly the best supported events were those which came under the general heading of 'Social Evening' and for which we provided all the entertainment ourselves.There would be some dancing to the piano,perhaps a short play or a sketch from one of the organisations such as the Mothers' Union,and I well remember once being enticed into a Barber Shop quartet.This proved to be great fun for us and good entertainment for everyone else although we certainly wouldn't have won any competitions.Refreshments were the domain of the Mothers' Union of course,and might be anything from the traditional 'Potatoe Pie Supper' to a quite elegant 'Running Buffet'.

All these things were great for our morale but not necessarily quite so great for raising money.They were well supported, mainly by the church people themselves, but were not attracting a lot of outside interest.We could hardly expect to compete with the professional places of entertainment for luxury and presentation any more than they wou;ld pretend to compete in providing a suitable venue for worshipping God.Social events such as we were holding then, and such as most churches hold today,are great vehicles for extending that Christian Fellowship we enjoy in and through our worship into the other areas of life but any profit made is best thought of as a bonus Anyone who hopes to use social events as a means of financial gain or as a way to attract people to church should prepare to be disappointed and all the more so in these days of television,videos,and satellites; but there is great profit to be made in terms of increased fellowship.

Some of us were reluctantly coming to the conclusion that we could expect very little assistance from the uncommitted Christians in our new parish.If the church was to ever get built we ourselves would have to do it,aided by grants from various church sources perhaps,but nonetheless our own efforts would be essential to success.There was,however,one more road by which we might involve the fringe elements in the parish and Mr.Bolt started us off on this venture by writing a follow-up letter to the one the Men's Society had sent out some time before.

The letter was quite brief and to the point.It was on the theme that every individual who saw fit to call themselves members of the Church of England had a responsibility to help in the provision of a worthy place of worship and they had an obligation to support the work being undertaken on their behalf by a committment to worship or by a committment of money.

The letters were intended to be delivered to every house in the parish but not all at the same time.I was now the proud owner of a rather ancient motor-byke and I took on the job of delivering a suitable number of letters on my way home from work according to how many men had promised to help that particular week then we would all set out together about 7-30 p.m. on Friday evening to follow up each letter with a visit.Although at first there were only two or three of us going out we slowly grew in numbers untill sometimes there were as many as twelve or fourteen men knocking on doors.

The first question when someone answered the door was,"Did you get our letter from St.Mark's?" and it was surprising how many people said they hadn't recieved one although I knew perfectly well that I,personaly,had pushed one through their letterbox.But we soon learnt how to deal with this and no-one ever went out without a few spare letters which the recipient could read there and then.The next question could then be asked,"Are you a member of the Church of England?"and if the answer was,"Yes." then we were in with a chance.We didn't try to go beyond the practical issues but concentrated on the fact that they were now in the new parish of St.Mark,that we were trying to build a church,and that we needed their assistance.Most people would listen and there were always those helpfull few who not only listened but tried to help.In rare instances we would come across someone who just slammed the door in our face but these were amply compensated for by those others who invited us in for a cup of tea and on one memorable occasion I was given a very nice plate of potatoe pie which went down very well on what was a chilly and rainy evening.This made a very interesting anecdote to relay to everyone when we made our usual rendezvous at the local pub to compare results It could be an encouragement to know that others had done allright even when you yourself had not and anyway a pint always goes down well after a job well done!

In general we found quite a large measure of goodwill and sympathy around the parish for what we were doing but a general lack of willingness to accept any sort of committment.Nevertheless within a few short weeks we had distributed well over four hundred free-will offering envelopes to people who had agreed to help and we began to feel we had achieved something worthwhile when,after a few short weeks,the income of the church more than doubled to about œ25 which was a magnificent sum in those days.

Following up the men's work entailed having a team of collectors to call for the envelopes from people week by week and this work was do

ne by the ladies of the church although with the coming of winter weather this became a more difficult task.It was here that the inherent weakness of what we were doing began to show itself.I first became aware of this when my wife Florence,who was one of the collectors told me that there were a lot of the ladies who were becoming disenchanted with what they were doing.The cold winds and rains of winter had changed what had been a pleasant walk round the parish,into a demanding trudge and it was extremely discouraging to find, at the end of their effort,that the twenty or more envelopes they had collected were only yielding a very few pence for the funds even though they were aware that altogether the financial gain was quite good.Something less burdensome was needed!St.Mark's had not yet found the best way forward but where were we to go from here?