So the day of the service to celebrate the completion of the link building at church finally arrived. Gone were the days of venturing outside and in sub-zero temperatures to get to the nearest loo!
I was part of the welcome team. In honour of the Bishop, who was attending together with some local dignitaries, I put on a pair of uncomfortable tights and the high-heeled boots – fundamental error.
The whole day was planned to the last detail … well almost.
I went to find the wicker baskets for the collection, of which there are four. Today, in view of the significance of the occasion and the size of the congregation anticipated, we needed five. Okay, we’d have to improvise. Now one might think it wouldn’t be too hard to find some sort of vessel which could double as a collection container. After all, we have a fully equipped kitchen, not to mention flower-arranging receptacles, so it should have been a piece of cake. Well that’s not too far from the truth as the best I could come up with, having instigated a search by the entire kitchen team, was a biscuit tin with a teatowel inside it.
I took the improvised collection container to the wardens and sides-folk to see if they thought I’d get away with it. One said it would be fine as long as the congregation couldn’t read or see properly. Forty minutes to the service, what could we do? Eventually it was decided there was only one course of action. I would run home to collect the potpourri basket from my dining room.
It was without doubt the windiest day of the year. However, in heels and the aforementioned hideous tights, I ran or should I say teetered, through the streets with clothes and hair billowing and a badge on my scarf … eyes right …
Time was running short, so after getting home, I dumped the potpourri unceremoniously in the bin and ran out the door again. The wind was by now howling and clearly my attempt to get rid of all the potpourri hadn’t been too successful, as bits were flying in all directions as I pounded my way back in a church-wards direction. When I arrived, thankfully the Bishop was already in situ so was not greeted by a manic, panting, dishevelled woman at the entrance.
I managed a quick brush up before the service started and all passed off well, with the potpourri bowl looking very similar to the other baskets, albeit the donations in mine were perfumed.
I went home at lunchtime to change out of the high boots and tights and returned for the open house in the afternoon in jeans and gillet. There was a magnificent turnout from the town and the entire day was a huge success. Thankfully the Bishop never saw the biscuit tin but to be honest even if he had, he was such a nice chap, I think he would probably just have laughed!