In the past week there have been no less than two momentous occasions in which people gathered to commemorate and celebrate certain Pilsdon residents moving into their new homes.
One of these occasions required the Bishop of Sherborne, no less, to officiate the proceedings, the cause being the recent arrival of our new Warden who is taking over the baton from our dearly-loved and soon-to-depart-for-pastures-new ex-Warden. The new Warden, hailing from Boston, Massachusetts, and built like a grizzly bear (but without the fur), is an ordained priest of the Church of England and as such needs a Bishop to “license” him to his new abode. Exactly what this means I’m afraid I am still unable to explain but it must be very important.
The great and the good gathered from miles around and squeezed themselves into our small stone church to witness the event. Never had so many dog-collars occupied so cramped a space. The husband of one owner of a dog-collar remarked as they left that priests are somewhat like manure, in that they are great spread around but not much use when piled up, an observation which earned him a holy thwack from his wife.
It was actually a double-licensing ceremony since another priest joined our community a few months ago but hadn’t yet been licensed. One can only assume the Bishop thought he may as well kill two birds with one stone and wait till both were present. All went smoothly, including the lusty singing of four hymns accompanied on the off-key piano by yours truly. There were a few jokes made beforehand along the lines that tonight I would be talent-spotted by the cathedral music master and get a leg up the greasy pole of ecclesiastical worship leading. No such luck.
The other ceremony this week was a much more homely affair. Our new duck pond in the quad next to the manor had been finished some months ago but until last week it lacked a perimeter fence. With a concerted effort driven mostly by the energy of a chap visiting us from Windsor Hill Wood (Toby Jones’ place in Somerset), the fence was put in place, the leak in the pond fixed with a rubber glove, and a few bushes transplanted from the old duck pond for familiarity’s sake.
We all gathered at 4pm for the Transfer of the Ducks. Even the wind band rehearsal was cut short. We admired the new entrance sign, “Ducks Abode” accompanied by images of ducks to eliminate any doubt what type of beast was kept within. Excitement mounted as minutes ticked by. Finally the door at the far end of the quad opened and in they came, four ducks waddling towards us with the fifth being carried by its human servant due to a limp. As they reached the entrance to their new home, the ribbon across the gate was cut and a great cheer rose from the crowd. The ducks, un-fazed, rather than diving straight into the pond as we all wanted them to, just began nibbling through the luscious grass for insects. An attempt to herd them into the water failed. Whoever coined the phrase “Like ducks to water” must have kept some more cooperative ducks.
Previously people rarely remembered we even had any ducks as they were kept tucked away behind the smaller polytunnel. Their eggs were just mixed in with the chicken eggs, and they all look the same scrambled on your plate. Now they are very much centre stage and are relishing the limelight, even sometimes splashing around in the water for our entertainment. I just hope that the three calves will get used to having to share people’s affections with these winged upstarts.
No comments:
Post a Comment