News
from St Petrifieds How
St Stringfellows taught St Petrifieds a thing or two Greetings
once more from St Petrifieds. The other week I spent a
few days as a guest of my old school chum, Marmaduke
ffylthy-Rych. At
school he had been plain old Marmaduke Smith, but after
getting a junior post in the city and living on the verge
of penury for many years had married Honoria, the
elderly, ugly daughter of the merchant banker Sir
Peregrine ffylthy-Rych. Upon his marriage Marmaduke
changed his name to hers and for some strange reason his
career took off after that. Within
ten years he had be come Chief Executive of Sir Peregrine’s
bank, Fleecehams of London and was living in the lap of
luxury. After the death of Honoria, Marmaduke retired to
the country and bought a mansion in the very exclusive The
following Sunday morning we set off in Marmaduke’s
Rolls Royce for the 200 yard journey to the church. The
car park at St Stringfellows was full of posh cars,
nothing smaller than a Bentley. Marmaduke’s
allotted parking place was about 400 yards from the
church and he explained that he hoped to move to one
nearer soon, but since he had only lived in the village
for fifteen years he would have to be patient. The
church itself was the size of a small cathedral and I
swiftly passed through security and found myself inside.
Marmaduke had managed to wangle a visitor pass for me so
that I would be able to sit in the main body of the
church, rather than in a side chapel and I was shown to
my pew by the Second Assistant to the Assistant
Churchwarden’s Assistant! The
whole church seemed full of hostility; they could
certainly teach us at St Petrifieds a thing or two. No-one
spoke to me, although I did receive a number of hostile
stares. We are used to giving visitors the cold-shoulder
ourselves, but this treatment was positively arctic and I
found myself unwittingly practising my own cold stare for
my return back home. Suddenly everyone stood and thought
the clergy had entered but it was, in fact, Lord Snobham
and his party who took their places on the front pew. In
fact, when the clergy did enter everyone ignored them
completely and remained seated! The
service itself was quite short, only lasting about forty
minutes, half of which was spent by one of the clergy
reading the social notices. It seemed that some chap had
applied for membership but had been blackballed by
several of the congregation. (It transpired that his
Bentley was second-hand and he had been spotted not
wearing a tie in the local pub, Ye Olde Stockbroker’s
Arms). I
must admit the visit had given me several new ideas for
improving the services at St Petrifieds and on my return
home I excitedly proposed them to Rev Keen. To my
surprise he tersely rejected them out of hand with a look
that would have curdled milk. The trouble with him is
that he always wants to bring religion into everything.
If he is going to make any progress in the church he
should realise that this attitude will seriously impede
his career. |