Remembrance Sunday

A bright sunny morning for celebrating the Eucharist at St German's, no need to worry about not being able to read small print as the church was filled with sunlight. We started at five to eleven to process to the St German's and St Agnes Mission war memorials to read the names of those killed on active service. One was a priest of the parish, serving as a chaplain, and another was a nun of the Wantage Sisters who had a small group working in the parish, killed in a bombing raid. I was struck by the number of families which lost two sons, and shocked to discover several instances where three sons had died. 

At the end of my sermon I posed the rhetorical question about learning the lesson that in war everybody loses, even the very earth we stand on, saying "When will we ever learn." I then took a risk and invited the congregation to join me in singing 'Where have all the Flowers Gone?', the peacenik's anthem from when we were young. To my delight the congregation of two dozen joined in and sang very nicely. "You see Father, we're all of that age aren't we? said Mike the Lay Reader

In the evening there was a Remembrance Sunday 'Antiques Road Show' programme, shot on location in Étaples war cemetery on the Pas de Calais coast near Abbeville, in which people with memorabilia from the First World War showed and talked about the people to whom they belonged, a remarkable moving programme. I believe my Great Uncle Alfred is buried there.

The traffic congestion was terrible returning from church, and a fifteen minute journey took thirty five. I must try a different route next Sunday. I sat down to digest my lunch and to my surprise slept for an hour and a half, before going out for a walk, while Clare hosted her monthly study group meeting for the first time chez nous. When I came back from walking I suddenly developed a severe stomach cramp, which has happened before, quite specifically if I eat dairy milk chocolate, or anything else with butter in, which may have happened inadvertently twice earlier in the day. My gall bladder inefficiency means that I don't generate enough bile to tackle dairy fats. Fortunately a doze of Swedish Bitters in water works to restore the imbalance in the digestive fluids, and saves hours of stomach misery.

We watched another episode of 'Show Trial' after the 'Antiques Road Show'. It's quite a complex account of a crime seeing it from all angles - police, lawyers, victims and suspects and their families. It's difficult to remember who's who when it switches from one scene to another. If it was American made, each scene might be given it's own title to remind the audience of where they are, before they go channel hopping. As it's still a mystery as to who among the suspects is the perpetrator, and British made, it makes you work.