Happy Day

Fifty years ago on this very day (which was also a Saturday) Jane and I were joined in Holy Matrimony by our then Vicar at St Mark's North End, Canon Peter May. St Mark's went soon after we left Portsmouth to be replaced by the ugliest brutalist concrete abortion in England, so we could not go back there to recall our wedding day. Instead we went to one of the newest of Pompey's attractions,  the recently completed Museum Gallery of the Mary Rose. It is spectacular.

This is just one of the many guns brought up from the seabed - and the perspex housing lets you  see the whole of the works - though in some places even the timber gun-carriages have been preserved. One of the more poignant memorials is a case containing religious artefacts, mostly Rosaries but also the covers of some books of prayers, crosses and so on. This was in the latter part of  Henry VIIIs reign, after the breach with Rome. It was only thirty or so years later that his second daughter, Elizabeth, proscribed the use of the Rosary. So  Mary Rose sank at that crucial time when England might have remained Catholic - by Elizabeth's reign the breach was irreparable, and the anti-Roman propaganda was doing its worst. We still live with the damage begun then.

The curators have created a mirror image of the original ship, so on one side you see the timbers raised from the sea-bed, and on the other the multitude of items taken from the wreck, set up as if on continuations of the decks. We thought it  would be a visit of maybe half an hour - instead we were engrossed for three times as long.

Once again my pictures are refusing to download to the blog, so the one above will have to stand for all the rest. Very frustrating. We ended up having tea (with a wonderful view of Victory, stripped of her Masts and undergoing yet another refit). Then a dash home, a brief respite and a change of clothes, and out to a very good evening meal at Gordleton Mill. A lovely way to mark a great day; and tomorrow it is off to Southbourne for Mass with our great Ordinariate gang.

Real Wessex

Each year we try to get to the New Forest Show. It is a great three-day event where the great and good rub shoulders with people like us. The first day threatened rain, so we went on Wednesday, the middle day of the three.

Ringwood Brewery Dray

 We especially enjoy the parade of horse-drawn vehicles; sadly Youngs of Wandsworth is no more (our son ran a pub of theirs in Oxford) now amalgamated - so no more Youngs' farm, no more heavy horses. The local brewers, though, Ringwood, were there with a splendid turn-out.




Co-op Funeral Services

It may be just my professional background,  but I couldn't help noticing a certain funereal note at the show. There was a marvellously daffy 'hearse' which was a tandem bike with a sidecar and on it a woven coffin. Then there were various crafts, among them basket weavers - with just such another coffin on display. Among the heavy horse teams were not just one but two undertakers - clearly the only way to go if you want to have been someone in the New Forest.

Once again some of my pictures refuse to download but at least a few cattle and sheep have made it

 

 

 Sadly my pictures of the Earl and Countess of Wessex, who were stars of the show, are among the refuseniks. So  you will have to take my word for it that whereas all the officials, male and female, were heavily overdressed, neither of their Royal Highnesses wore a hat, and both seemed splendidly un-stuffy.


 

In case this is insufficiently churchy, be reassured; I said Mass earlier in the day for our Ordinariate Mission in Southbourne.

Deaconings

Bishop Richard Moth, Bishop to the Forces, ordained four men as Deacons on Saturday - the first Ordinariate Ordination in the Ordinariate Church in Soho. Among them was our own Darryl Jordan, formerly an Anglican Cleric in Texas, and more recently an assistant at the Priory Church in Christchurch. Here he is supported by two clergy wives - his own on the left, and Mrs Hawthorne on the right. Her husband and their daughter are to be received and confirmed in mid-August. Ceri herself became a Catholic eighteen months ago.

 

 

On Sunday Fr Darryl  preached for our Ordinariate Mission for the first time, then stayed on to Deacon the Parish Mass at Our Lady Queen of Peace for Fr Gerry. Meanwhile we had a short study in the Hall before I had to leave for Central  Bournemouth. There I had the unusual experience of saying Mass in an Anglican Church. The Vicar of St Peter's is kindly allowing Fr Bruce Barnes and his people to use his church while their own church building, the Sacred Heart on Richmond Hill, is undergoing major restoration.

 

 

St Peter's Bournemouth, archt. G E Street

 

 



Celebrations

First there was our nephew and his bride of four weeks, from their new home in London. Then his parents (my wife's sister and her husband) who were married 40 years ago this year. Then us, soon to pass the 50 year mark. So all the family spent last weekend in Bourton on the Water, where we had rented a large house. It was a very merry party, with our daughter and her husband coming from South Wales with our grandson, our son joining us from Lancaster (he took the train to Wolverhapton and cycled the 60+ miles from there) and our best man came from Bristol - by car.

Bourton is so much visited that even the fish and chip shops have notices in Japanese. Fortunately the house was a little back  from the main road behind a high wall, so the tourist din scarcely reached us. It was, I think, only my second weekend away from our Ordinariate Group this year, so on Sunday Jane and I were able to worship together in Our Lady Help of Christians. Pevsner spends two pages describing the (Anglican) parish church and its architectural riches. The Catholic parish church would not require so much print: but it is clearly greatly loved.

 

The hymns were familiar from Anglican days, though accompanied on a karaoke machine. The priest was a vistor like us, holding the fort while the Parish Priest was on holiday. Mass concluded with the Angelus. The place was comfortably full - I  overheard one person say on leaving "I expect there are visitors" - but though there were, no one made any attempt to welcome any of them or ask who they were. I  don't think visitors get away ungreeted at our Ordinariate masses - but there, we are a small concern,  so it is easier to know everyone.

 

 

 

Then again, we were greeted at the Peace: and the service sheet said "Welcome to all our visitors! Our churches have induction loop faciilites. Use the T setting on your hearing aid." So that was some comfort - or would have been if we had hearing aids.

 

In the afternoon some of us visted a National Trust house at Chastleton. We were met at the entrance to the car park by a picket of locals protesting against Sunday opening of the House. The Trust, they claimed, had promised there would be no weekend opening, and that numbers would be kept very small. Now they are inundated with thousands of sightseers, and they feel betrayed. But whether it is a village with a National Trust property, or a settlement on the route of the proposed High Speed Rail Link, money is always the winner.

 

The Church at the gates of Chastleton House

 

So it was with a slightly guilty conscience that we queued for the house to open. The former manor house had been the home of the Catesbys. One of the Guides suggested it had been sold to fund the purchase of gunpowder for the plot to blow up Parliament - of which plot, apparently, she disapproved. The Jones family which built the present house in the early years of James I were Royalists, who suffered greatly during  the Commonwealth. Among the items the Trust acquired with the house were some splendid Jacobite glasses and decanters - the volunteer steward rather missed the point when he called them "Jacobean".  So perhaps the Joneses count as proto-Anglo-Catholics.

 

Cracked fragement of an Annunciation window in Chastleton Church

 

The high point of the weekend was a celebratory meal just a few miles out of Bourton. We toasted everyone, and were toasted ourselves. Helpfully our brother-in-law had organised taxis to get us all safely back. Then on Sunday evening and Monday in ones and twos we drifted off, back to normality from a memorable couple of days together. As Jane's sister had said, we must make the most of every opportunity or we shall only meet up at funerals. Not so long now to my eightieth, if I'm spared ...

 

 

 

 

Ground (hedge) Hog Day

The day began especially well; a new family at the 10.30 mass, with a very new baby - who became a visual aid when the Gospel spoke about the disciples as "infants". The total trust of  that little girl  sitting on her dad's lap throughout Mass was a joy to us all. Dad is Syrian, Mum, though English, has parents who were in Argentina - so Maria, who come from there, was delighted to welcome them, and spent most of coffee time with the baby girl in her arms.

 From Southbourne Jane and I went over to West Bournemouth (or is it  Poole?) to meet my former Secretary Mary and her husband Gerald, who have an apartment near Branksome Chine. We had lunch together and caught up on news from St Albans.

The garden then occupied me for some hours, dead-heading roses and watering - it has been so hot and dry for days now. Late this evening Jane gave a saucer of milk to the resident hedgehog. What a charming creature -  though they are reckoned to be full of fleas. It is difficult to scratch, I suppose,  when your fur is all prickles. So, a rather unchurchy post, but thought you might like at least to see the hedgehog.

 

 

By an odd bit of mismanagement Fr Brian and are are both away this weekend, and our Group will not be worshipping together - but more about that next week, I hope. And next week, too, Darryl  Jordan (former curate at Christchurch Priory) is to be ordained Deacon for the Ordinariate.

 

 

 

 



Some weekend!

It began early on Sunday morning with a call from Fr Brian, my colleague in our Ordinariate Mission. Fr John Lee of St Joseph's Christchurch had been admitted hospital overnight; Fr B must stand in for him. So we set off a little earlier than usual to Bournemouth for our 9.30am Mass. There we heard the good news that our Ordinand, Darryl Jordan, is to be ordained deacon later this month. We were given lunch by Fr Brian and Barbel in Southbourne (a lovely meal, and no need to dash back to Lymington) then in the afternoon he and I conducted evensong and benediction.

Just before 4pm Jane and I left Southbourne and headed off for Oxford. We hit dreadful summer weekend traffic, but arrived in good time for a very important party.  I did some good things, and some less good things, during eight years as Principal of St Stephen's House, but one of the very best was to appoint Ian Boxall as a New Testament Tutor. He has been there ever since, and has established himself as a major contributor to the Theology Faculty in Oxford, while also endearing himself to generations of ordinands through his pastoral care and tireless teaching - especially of the theologically less able. Sunday evening was an opportunity to say 'Good-bye' to Ian, as he moves to the USA to teach in the Catholic University in Washington D.C. Currently there are still negotiations over his Visa (apparently the American Immigration Service knows about Oxford, Mississippi, but not Oxford England) and he is having to prove his academic credentials.

The Pricipal, Canon Robin Ward, with the Revd Lucy Gardiner

It was so good catching up with old friends, and the cloister garden on a truly balmy July evening made the perfect setting. Lucy Gardiner was a member of staff in my days (though at that time without a clerical collar) and it was a delight to see her and her very grown-up son. My immediate successor, Fr Jeremy Sheehy, was also there - almost his first time back from his parish of Swinton in Manchester.

Fr Jeremy with Jane, one-time Flying Buttress

 

The great and the good (well, mostly good) of Oxford were gathered for this very happy occasion.

The guest list reflectd Ian's wide circle of colleagues and friends.



Somehow the above conjunction reminded me of wartime song about 'coming in on a wing and a prayer' - ah, and the war in question was that of '39 - '45...

Once we had disbanded Jane and I walked for Old time's sake down to Magdalen Bridge, where of course there was another party going on - in the grounds of Magdalen School.

 

 

 The Ashmolean is closed on Monday (as I suspected) so we drove on towards home and called at the

Vyne, the great Hampshire home first ofthe Sandys family (who managed to keep a great house through Henry VII's reign - they might have taught Wolsey a trick at Hampton Court) and then of the Chutes. The first ofthat clan bought the house in the seventeenth Century, was Speaker of the Commons in the time of Richard Cromwell, and wisely died just before the Restoration. The house was largely remodelled (particularly by his grandson, John Chute) and was given to the National Trust by the lastof the line. We had visited some years ago and found it disappointing because the volunteer steward has seemed so uninterested.

 

Magdalen tower at twilight

 

 

Jane in the garden at the Vyne

 

It is quite different now - real enthusiasm from them all, and a desire to hand on their knowledge to visitors. A lovely afternoon. Now we are home again and ready for anything - and Darryl's deaconing (a word from our Anglican Patrimony) is to be in London on the last Saturday of this month. Please pray for him, and for Fr John Lee and his speedy recovery.

 

 

 

Telling our story

Today we should begin by wishing our rebellious colonials "Happy Independence Day". Our week began in an unusual encounter; an English Texan meeting a Texan Englishman. Fr Allan Hawkins, from Dallas/Fort Worth visited us with his wife Jose - they are now American citizens - and met our Texan ordinands, Darryl Jordan, who had recently achieved British citizenship.

Darryl (l) and Fr Allan in conversation - between them, Margareta and Jose

 

We had all packed into the small Hall after Mass so that Fr Allan could tell us about his journey from the Church of England, via the Episcopal Church, into the Catholic Church - first, the Anglican Provision and now the Ordinariate. By another strange coincidence we had visitors with us who came from Swindon - where both Fr Allan and our own priest Fr Brian Copus, had served. Small world

 

 

It was, as you can see, quite a squash.

 

Then last evening I had some explaining to do: Fr Marcin, the Polish priest in our neighbouring parish of Our Lady of Lourdes, New Milton, had invited me to speak about the Ordinariate to some of his parishioners.

 

 

He wanted this rather formal picture for the record - he has recently discovered some of the ancient trasures of the parish and put them on display - maybe one day we shall feature in an exhbiition of ancient treasures. Meanwhile, I must go off to say Mass at his Church which I do most Thursdays.