Tag Archives: Church of England

I Need A Favour

14 May

Dear readers, will you please do me a favour?  At my church, we are updating our website.   We need some input.  Half of our congregation were born before electricity was invented – Church of England; did you guess? – and wouldn’t know the internet or computers if they jumped up to byte them on the butt, so it’s no good asking them.  The other half is me.

Would you mind answering a few questions?

  • Would you ever look at a church website?
  • If so, why?
  • What would you expect to find on a church website?
  • What would you like to find on a church website?

To add to your goodness, would you mind taking a quick look at the website as it is, and telling me what’s wrong with it?  And what, if anything, is right with it?

Also, if you have links to other church websites, please share.

Please leave all comments below, and don’t worry about hurting my feelings: if ever a website needed an overhaul, it’s ours.  That much I do know.

Thanks 🙂

Weekly Photo Challenge: Old-Fashioned

10 Jul

I attended the early service this morning in my Anglican church.  We combined with two other churches in the parish at Easter.  The church where we are now based is high church, as opposed to us low church, or enjoy-it-enough-to-almost-be-called-‘happy-clappy’-if-we-weren’t-all-too-frightfully-British-to-actually-clap-in church.

The early service is extremely formal: the Gospel reading requires everyone to stand, and is made in the middle of the congregation.  I suppose the thinking is that it’s at the centre of everything.  It is made with people – I don’t know what they are called – in long, white robes holding crosses on sticks, surrounding the vicar, who reads the scripture from the biggest Bible I’ve ever seen in real life.  It is all rather solemn and old-fashioned.

The reading was from Matthew; the parable of the sower.  The vicar read, And he told them many things in parables, saying, at which point he drew breath, just as the only baby in the room said, Dada.

I’ll tell you what is definitely not old-fashioned – a giggling vicar.

Hums Ancient & Modern

16 May

Who says it’s not fun going to church?  Okay, about 97% of the population, but none of them were in my church this morning.  I attend an Anglican church but our building is old and we can’t get insurance for it so the local Methodist church kindly rents us space.  We have our services at different times but come together once a month for a united service.  It’s nice because we get a live organist instead of a dead cd.  You’d think.  Unfortunately, the dear old Methodist organist is just that, a seventy-year old dear with the reactions of a woman twice her age.  The first hymn was a nice up-tempo number that she played as a dirge; the next two were modern songs that she didn’t know, and I have the earache to prove it.  The fourth must have been a bit confusing for her because she was supposed to play each two-line verse twice but also played the four-line chorus twice after each verse, so the service was a tad longer than it needed to be – six choruses worth of longer.  She came up trumps on the final hymn but it was written in the Eighteenth Century, so she probably knew the author as a child.

I’m just having a bit of fun; I haven’t been able to stop giggling about it since this morning: I admire anyone who can play an instrument, especially a huge church organ mounted in the ceiling.  The best I can do is that bare knuckle thing on the black keys – Chopsticks?- though I did play the tambourine as a teenager. 

I have never had any pretensions to being cool; now you know why.

The guest minister had prepared an all-ages service; we must have been such a disappointment to him.  Our combined congregations can boast only four children, and none of them were there this morning.  The youngest of us was in her late thirties, and only four of those present were under fifty-eight.  It’s a good job one of the hymns wasn’t Nearer My God To Thee, or I’d have had a hysterical fit in the aisle.

Roll on next Sunday morning: I hear we’re having a guest performer on the harpsichord.


Sunday Sermon

21 Feb

I had an enjoyable morning at church – seriously; it happens occasionally.  Our parish has three churches and can’t fill any of them but this morning we all came together at our church and roped in the Methodists as well (whose church it really is; we rent their space).  We were packed out, despite the overnight snowfall.  It was lovely to be squashed in next to ancients I hadn’t yet met.   The Bishop of Stockport took the service so I can’t help wondering if it was the local equivalent of the Songs of Praise effect: a full church because you might get on telly/touch a Bishop.

I did touch the Bishop, and it hurt.  I said to him, ‘That’s quite a handshake – I bet you don’t lose many of your flock.’  Once he’d moved on I whispered to the vicar, ‘What’s he Bishop of?’ because I wasn’t paying attention last week when they told us he was coming.  He seemed nice enough.

Afterwards, we had a bring and share lunch so I was finally able to offload the Twiglets we bought at Christmas and which we all thought tasted foul.  They weren’t that stale and went down well, but not as well as the quiches and pork pies: there’s nothing like a hungry Christian for a table full of sausages.  I won’t need any dinner.


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