The trouble with having eons of leisure is that you notice things. You can’t amble out or recline in the garden without noticing things. Many of those things are nice to notice: a clump of forget-me-nots, a sudden surge of apple blossom, a blackbird feeding two youngsters. Other things you would prefer not to notice: weeds growing up through the path, some peeling paint, rusty wrought iron fencing. The next phase in the process is that putting these irksome things right becomes a priority, even though you hadn’t noticed them before. This brings me to today’s unpleasant chore – sanding down the rusty railings and applying whatever Hammerite that can be found in the garage. In my case this positions me out at the front of the house with my wire brush and sandpaper, though to be fair Deirdre did the sous-chef work of preparation because she says I never prepare jobs properly in my eagerness to get them over. If she was the warm-up act so now I emerge in my starring role as the mug who must spend hours painting the fence. Now being out at the front exposes me to every passing wit and jokester in Crich. Even the runners, and there were plenty of them, could manage a wry observation between pants. The comedians all seemed to be working from the same script with the same one-liners. Worse were the experts who kindly advised me but generally approved of my approach, albeit rather patronisingly. And then there was the observation from a total stranger that I had Hammerite all over my face, a remark I found rather intrusive and a violation of my dignity. Then, and this could only happen in Crich, Rachel drew up in her car and in her role as osteopath gave me a consutation and exercises whilst the traffic drew up behind her or threaded round between us. Normally, during lockdown, I enjoy an excuse to exchange a few words, but now I kept my head down intent upon the finesse of my daubing. It had me thinking of Tom Sawyer, reluctantly painting his aunt’s fence and anticipating the taunts of his friends. I considered trying his strategy which was making out the job was so satisfying that eventually his friends were bribing him to let them have a go. Recalling this episode so tempered my toils that I responded to the challenge of paint drying to a different colour from that described on the tin. So when I ran out and had to open another tin I was faced with a two toned fence and ended up re-painting the first section. The job was finished as the rain came on but I retreated indoors.
“Tom said to himself that it was not such a hollow world, after all. He had discovered a great law of human action, without knowing it -- namely, that in order to make a man or a boy covet a thing, it is only necessary to make the thing difficult to attain. If he had been a great and wise philosopher, like the writer of this book, he would now have comprehended that Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do.”
(Tom Sawyer paints the Fence by Norman Rockwell)
The Rev.Ian Whitehead was licensed to the Benefice of St.Mary’s Crich and South Wingfield only 54 weeks ago, but has been quicker to get a grasp of Crich than Amazon’s Alexa. Ian and Jim Morton have taken worship into the digital age by making it possible for anyone to access Ian’s talks via asking Alexa. So this Sunday morning we asked Alexa to play CSW digital church. With her lovely gracious voice she agreed, pronounced it CRITCH and then, get this, said “I’m sorry. I know I pronounced that wrongly.” If the silly girl knew she was pronouncing it wrongly then why didn’t she get it right? Surely she’s had enough warnings by now that ‘Nothing Rhymes with Crich’. But what a wonderful asset to have her, imperfect as she is, streaming us Ian’s weekly talks. We sat quietly and saw him on You Tube, sitting in the Sanctuary at St.Mary’s, leading us through a short service. The great East Window and the low light provided the tranquillity and the intimacy and the sense of almost being there. During this last month we’ve had to approach the Divine with less human agency than we may be used to, and I’ve found that quite rewarding, but it’s helpful on a Sunday to have the Trinity of Ian, Jim and Alexa guiding us into the Sanctuary.