Grizzly Bears at Quadring Church

Quadring Bears1

You never know who you might see if you go down to the church today. This summer, Quadring parish church held a teddy bear jump from the tower to raise funds. Bears of all shapes and sizes sailed down on parachutes, to an inspired commentary from Ian, the vicar, and with prizes for the longest and most accurate jump. Inside the church, were homemade cakes, tea and juice – and a concert by The Grizzly Bears, all of whom attend the local primary school, with their tutor, Neave. Here’s a snapshot of their performance:

Quadring is unusual because the church and school stand at some distance from the village itself, though there is a field path connecting them. Like many village schools in the area, Quadring has a strong relationship with the church, so when The Grizzly Bears needed rehearsal space, the church proved ideal. They’ve been able to practice there and have even played at services, including Mothering Sunday.

The style of music has changed, but The Grizzly Bears are just the latest of a very long line of Quadring people who have made music in the church over the centuries. Three of them moved on to secondary school in September, so the band is now renewing itself with new members and a different name, but Neave says there are lots of talented children to step up. The music goes on…

Quadring Bears3

Download the book – free

The Light Ships cover A

The next Light Ships event will be held this Saturday, 22 November, at Wrangle Church.

The main book launch, with a screening of a wonderful old film of Boston in 1943, will be at 3.00pm – but do come a bit earlier if you can, to see the exhibition and enjoy being in one of the Fenland’s loveliest churches. From 2.00pm there’ll be refreshments and an organ recital by Tony Fitt-Savage, who was organist at Sandringham for almost 40 years.

From today, The Light Ships is also available as a free download. It is a PDF file, which most computers can open with a programme like Acrobat Reader. It can be enlarged on screen for easier reading, or printed out. There are two versions: the low-resolution file takes less time to download, but the high-res file has better quality pictures. Click on the links below to save the file to your computer.

Copies of the printed books will be available on Saturday at Wrangle and the following Saturday, 29 November, at Gosberton, where the launch coincides with the church’s seasonal Christmas Tree Festival. From 1 December 2014, you can also buy copies for £5 plus postage from Transported:

Transported

Holbeach St. Marks Community Association Building,

Sluice Road, Holbeach St. Marks, Lincolnshire PE12 8HF

Phone 01406 701006 Email TransportedLauren@litc.org.uk

Books will also be available through the churches included, with all proceeds will go to church funds or supporting future arts opportunities in Boston Borough and South Holland District.

The Light Ships Book

Poetry, film and the strangeness of the recent past

A Passion for Churches (1974)2

What would you be, you wide East Anglian sky,

Without church towers to recognise you by?

John Betjeman, A Passion for Churches (1974)

It’s impossible not to look at and write about English village churches without the presence of John Betjeman. Although he will be remembered as a highly original poet, and was widely appreciated as such in his lifetime, it was his television films that made Betjeman such a recognisable figure in the 1960s and 1970s. Made in television’s salad days, before its executives thought they knew what was good, these are highly personal portraits of places and things that Betjeman loved: the seaside, trains, architecture and, repeatedly, churches.

One of the best, A Passion for Churches, is about Norfolk’s churches and it can be watched on the BBC iPlayer. In it Betjeman visits some wonderful places: Trunch, Sandringham (where Tony Fitt-Savage was organist at the time), Cley-next-the Sea.

But it’s the people who steal the show: the mothers with their children at a Wednesday afternoon Sunday School; the young couple getting married (he went on to be a Bishop of Manchester). He meets the Chaplain of the Broads, chugging about on a boat to greet the holidaymakers, a vicar dedicated to his model railway and another going out to see the men on the Smith’s Point Light Ship. There’s 6am Easter service on the quay at Lowestoft with a Salvation Army band, people singing hymns in the wind and sun. And there’s Billy West, a bellringer for 60 years, saying:

Ah that’s music in your ear, that’s music in the ear. Once that gets hold of you, I suppose that’s like smoking cigarettes; once that gets hold of you that, that’s a drug: you can’t get rid of it. There’s something about it, I don’t know what it is, but you’d go anywhere for it. If there weren’t somewhere where there were some bells I’d go crazy, I know I should. Bells are life to me. I mean, it never seems Sunday to me if we don’t hear the bells.

But it’s hearing the Norfolk in Mr West’s voice that gives that statement its poetry.

A Passion for Churches (1974)8

 

And poetry runs throughout the film as Betjeman shifts easily from prose to verse in a way no one would dare to do today.

And should we let the poor old churches die?

Do the stones speak? My word, of course they do.

Here in the midst of life they cry aloud:

’You’ve used us to build houses for your prayer;

You’ve left us here to die beside the road.’

 

Christ, son of God, come down to me and save:

How fearful and how final seems the grave.

Only through death and resurrection come;

Only from shadows can we see the light;

Only at our lowest comes the gleam:

Help us, we’re all alone and full of fear.

Drowning, we stretch our hands to you for aid

And wholly unexpectedly you come:

Most tolerant and all embracing church.

A Passion for Churches was made forty years ago. It’s not just the clothes and plummy voices that seem to belong to another age. Such public statements of belief would cause embarrassment in public life today. It’s Philip Larkin’s post-religious ‘Church Going’ rather than Betjeman’s faith that fits the tenor of the age.

Nothing is more remote than the recent past: not yet history but how we were is already unthinkably strange. Thus we live and pass and all that we believe to be normal is just more of the vast oddity of human beings.

In some churches all prayer has ceased.

St. Benedict’s, Norwich, is a tower alone.

But better let it stand

A lighthouse beckoning to a changing world.

A Passion for Churches (1974)4

The Drunken Church Band

Thomas_Webster_-_A_Village_Choir

The organ is such a staple of church music that it’s hard to remember that it wasn’t always so. The churches of the Fens have echoed to many different styles of music over the centuries: plain chant in Latin, choral singing, organ recitals and the ever changing music of the people. There’s a lovely story by Thomas Hardy about a church band – fiddles, bass-viol, serpent; clarionet and oboe – who have a bit too much brandy and beer one Christmas to keep warm in the unheated west gallery, while the sermon rolls on. The shocking consequence spells the end of their playing in church as the squire invests in:

‘a barrel-organ that would play two-and-twenty new psalm-tunes, so exact and particular that, however sinful inclined you was, you could play nothing but psalm-tunes.’

Click here to read the story

Nowadays, squires and parsons are more relaxed about what music should be heard in church. When I was at Long Sutton recently, the Rocking Rector of Market Deeping was doing a sound check for that evening’s concert. Five miles away, at Holbeach Church, the South Holland Singers and the Lincolnshire Chamber Orchestra were performing Haydn’s Creation. Who could feel deprived of opportunities to enjoy music in the Lincolnshire Fens that Spring Saturday evening?

Links

Long Sutton Church band

The Wrestling Parson of Moulton Chapel

Reginald Thompson, vicar and wrestler (1963)

The Rev. Reginald Thompson was 59 years old when he was filmed by British Pathé for this newsreel, in 1963. Apparently, Mr. Thompson learned his wrestling while working as a farmhand in Canada, before returning to the open prairies of southern Lincolnshire. It’s a lovely period piece, with everybody hamming it up for the camera – not least the narrator. Perhaps wrestling was always as much performance art as sport.

Does anyone in Moulton Chapel – or elsewhere – remember Mr. Thompson?  Please share any memories below.

Links

Wrestling Parson 2

 

Thanks to Rebecca Lee for showing me this film. Rebecca is a musician and sound artist who is working on another Transported commission, ‘Outside Broadcast’, which you can read about here.