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January 26, 2012
Inappropriate by the organ
In the final episode from this series of 'Rev Life', we enter the netherworld of coffee and biscuits after the morning service:
Episode 5
Inappropriate by the organ
Coffee and biscuits after the service takes almost as long as the service itself and for a few, it's a good deal more important.
'It's where I catch up with everyone!' says Milly. 'You can't talk so much during the service.'
This is true though Milly does her best. She probably talks through films and she certainly talks through the prayers, which drives some people crazy. Silence is a vulnerable child.
Everyone has their reasons and initially Milly came to church because it was a place where she could go to sleep in the warm, while her children were looked after by someone else. It was win-win-win, really.
But soon Milly started talking as well as sleeping and has been ever since. Indeed, I haven't seen her eyes closed since the bishop was last here, over-estimating our interest and under-estimating our intelligence.
'You'll never guess what!' I hear her saying excitedly.
But I hear no more, for she moves away and I'm busy behind the serving counter. Yes, the coffee rota has broken down again and so it's off with the robe and on with the urn. Coffee? Tea - normal or herbal? Squash?
'The squash was quite weak last Sunday,' says a posh little boy. 'Rather like water.'
'Ahh..'
That will have been the parsimonious Maureen on duty who believes more money should be sent to Africa and less money spent on squash. Her servings of Tescos Value orange can be seen only with the aid of a very strong microscope.
Churches aren't in competition, of course, because we all love one another, but obviously we are in competition and I have heard that one church nearby is offering fresh orange juice after the service, which is a bit of a body-blow. I mean, how can we compete with that? It's probably the Catholics; another subversive stunt like the Gunpowder plot.
And then Ronald is standing in front of me.
'All very modern, vicar!'
'What's modern, Ronald?'
Ronald is in his 70's, a former church warden and endlessly positive about all things modern. If a technological gadget exists in the world, he thinks we should have it in church.
'Got to be modern, vicar!' is his general solution to a problem, which explains his delight at the new Health and Safety notices that have appeared, unbidden, in the church kitchen.
'Where on earth have these come from?' I say, gazing at the notices in shock:
'DON'T PUT KNIVES IN SINK.'
'FAT FIRE? DON'T USE WATER!'
'DON'T TRY AND CATCH SHARP KNIVES - STAND BACK AND LET THEM FALL.'
'It's the way of things now, Vicar,' says Ronald. 'Everywhere has to be safe. It's the modern way.'
'Not good news for jugglers,' I say.
But Ronald's not on my wavelength.
'Jugglers here?' he asks. 'Good idea, vicar. We need to find new ways to make the show more entertaining.'
I look again at the signs and remember the famously ambiguous church kitchen instruction:
'WASH TEAPOTS AND THEN STAND UPSIDE DOWN IN THE SINK.'
The trouble with notices like these is where do you stop?
'DON'T SPREAD GERMS. PLEASE WASH YOUR HANDS BEFORE WASHING YOUR HANDS.'
Janet appears suddenly and demands a word in my ear. She's one of our present church wardens, middle-aged and methodical.
'It's Martin.'
'What about Martin?'
'He's making inappropriate comments.'
'What sort of comments?'
'He just commented on a lady's breasts.'
'OK.'
'No, it's not OK.'
Martin is a bearded man in his thirties who's in and out of psychiatric units. When keeping to his medication, he can function pretty well; but he struggles with boundaries and can get violent - him and the rest of the world.
'I just think you ought to go over,' says Janet.
'I'm serving the coffee at the moment.'
'Then I'll do the coffee.'
'Right.'
By the time I get to Martin, who's with a group by the organ, things are all fairly jovial. There's plenty of laughter and Milly is in the middle of it.
'What are you like?!' she's saying.
Apparently, it's her breasts which have received the compliment which is strange, because she has the face of an angel but the bust of a middle-distant runner.
'I said my breasts are my business, thank you very much!' she says recounting the event. 'What is he like!?'
What is Martin like? He's like someone who just says what he's thinking, without edit, malice or disguise which makes him offensive to some but something of a role model to the rest of us.
Posted by Mr Bojangles at January 26, 2012 11:12 AM