Had yet another meal at the Half Moon today. That’s three in less than a week, but don’t go thinking that I’m always in the pub. I’m not. Honestly.
Today was the over-sixties lunch, provided free for all over sixties in the village by a local charity. Fortunately it’s a very small village.
So today we had Christmas dinner – turkey and all the trimmings, a drink to start and wine with the lunch, followed by Christmas pudding. We pulled our crackers, laughed (for yet another year) at the same cracker jokes and wore our paper hats. It was great. I really enjoyed it.
Had to leave early to dash to the next village for the first TFT session. It turned out to be half TFT (Thought Field Therapy – involves a lot of tapping and thinking) and half EFT (Emotional Freedom Technique – I think. May have got that wrong. Don’t quote me.)
Have to confess I was unconvinced, but have an open mind so will reserve judgement and go again next time.
Had to cancel tonight’s Deanery Synod (I’m Acting Rural Dean at the moment because the proper Rural Dean is off sick) because of the snow. Not that it’s particularly thick round here, but it’s going to freeze tonight and I couldn’t see many people (almost all are well over sixty) driving very far. Well developed sense of responsibility, me. And, it has to be admitted, no wish to venture out after dark in weather like this.
When it snows in the UK we happily grind to a standstill and it remains a talking point for months.
Well, it is called ‘The Old Country’.
Baptised Georgina Rose, aged three months, today during the Communion service at St Mary’s. She was gorgeous and never uttered a peep, so the service went well. I like to keep the service user-friendly, because most of the people who attend – guests of the young family – aren’t regular churchgoers. So while not frivolous (I hope) it is quite light-hearted with plenty of colour and visual aids.
After the service, Ed and I had been invited over to the Half Moon for lunch with the baptism party (Georgina Rose’s Grandma is one of my Readers, i.e. is authorised to take services and preach). We were a party of around fifteen, so had a long table in the conservatory (where we could watch the snow falling. Was it only two or three days ago that I wrote about the first green shoots of Spring? Forget it. I was wrong.)
The two oldest members of the party chose to have starters. Big mistake, since meals at the Half Moon are massive. The old couple don’t live round here, so perhaps they didn’t know. Along came these huge prawn cocktails plus rolls and butter and there we all sat as the old couple slowly and methodically chewed every mouhtful. The old guy couldn’t undo his butter pat, so that took ages too. Half an hour later when all the rest of us were starving and sick to death of waiting, the old couple finally admitted defeat, after about four mouthfuls each.
Eventually the main course arrived. Huge platefuls. I’d often been before, so knew to choose salmon and new potatoes which is about half the size. The place was full, so with all the bodies, the radiators on, precious little ventilation and hot food, it soon became really hot in the room.
The next thing I saw – or rather, heard – was a commotion over by the door. I looked up to see the old dear looking distraught and people gathering round, dinners left untouched. It soon transpired that the old guy had collapsed. The proprietor called the ambulance and we heard her say, “An old man has collapsed in my pub. He’s ninety four.”
I could see he was ancient, but hadn’t realised he was quite that ancient.
All’s well that ends well, he came round and it looked as though it was just a faint. But they left him lying on the floor anyway (which was somewhat awkward as he was lying in the doorway.) Apparently they’d stayed overnight in some hotel or B&B and he’d got really cold, the church wasn’t too warm (well, not if you’re ninety four) and now it was so hot you could hardly breathe. Me, I blame the prawn cocktail. Should never have had a starter….
Ed and I waited for the ambulance to arrive, just to make sure everything was OK, then we came home as our youngest daughter, up for the weekend, was travelling back to Swindon and we wanted to say goodbye.
So, I’m sorry to leave you without a punchline. Can’t tell you the end of the story ‘cos I don’t yet know it myself!