Bath Abbey

Most of my Christmas Day Services have been at the C of I church in Dunleer. It was Low Church, austere architecturally and with the old, simple liturgy. Even the plate was a wooden platter, the sort of thing  from which Oliver Twist might have had an exiguous helping of gruel. It was presented by my brother-in-law to mark the Christening of his eldest in the church.

Actually he had another motive. He was driven to distraction by Mr Sloan taking the collection on a small salver, too small even to accomodate the meagre offerings of a C of I congregation. Simon is a man of religious conviction but can be a bit peppery – I remember him adjusting the amount of his contribution to the plate according to the length of the sermon. And then he had that run-in with the Dean of Trim Cathedral (I’m a Believer) leading him to make an appearance on Ireland’s most famous TV chat show – The Late Late Show. He would ideally like to dictate the Order of Service. Instead he contents himself designing the point-to point course for the Tara Harriers and Meath Foxhounds.

However, the sleepy old Church of Ireland moved with the times and appointed women clergy before the C of E got round to it. But the C of E have caught up. On Christmas morning the Service was taken by the Bishop of Taunton (Ruth), the Abbey Vicar (Claire) and an Abbey curate (June). Gluten-free wafers were available on request, reminding me of the fare in Dunleer – cubes of sliced white bread.

Once, in Kilsaran, the chalice was a motor racing trophy. The keys to the church safe had been mislaid and a parishioner improvised. Only one person noticed – Alan Tinsley, ever observant. He regarded his visits to Barmeath as a teenager, much as an anthropologist would look upon a stay with an Amazonian tribe. Once he experimented by drinking a home-made liqueur at a neighbour’s house. Subsequently he thought he had gone blind but it was simply that the lights weren’t working.