Bank Holiday break from 19th century nonconformity

Three full days to enjoy the company of my wonderful wife and some glorious weather. Well two actually because Saturday in the summer involves wearing whit(ish) flannels and chasing a little red ball around a field after people hit it with a piece of willow. I'm not very good at cricket, but they let me play and we have rather a good team this season - undefeated so far and this week involved another comprehensive if not slightly embarrassing win.
Sunday dawned bright and sunny, so ignoring our puritanical instincts to attend a place of worship we went to Wicken Fen instead.

 






This is a gorgeous piece of traditional undrained fenland in Cambredgeshire owned by the National Trust and boasting some amazing wildlife as well as relaxing places to walk and eat yet another of Mrs. L's fantastic packed lunches.
There were lots of butterflies (we are both into butterflies - me in quite a big way) but they hadn't read the signs as most of them were to be found elsewhere than on the butterfly walk
 

 This is a Brimstone for the uninitiated - it is designed - or has evolved, depending on your belief system to look like a leaf when at rest, but bright yellow (the males especially) in flight.
We also saw a lot of damselflies but they were all mating so it seemed a bit intrusive to take pictures - not that they seemed to mind being on public display.

 OK - Mrs. L and I have a thing about canals, and no Bank Holiday weekend would be complete without at least a casual visit to see some narrowboats. We've never owned one, used one, taken one through a lock, slept on one or driven one (or whatever it is you do to move the things) but we have a bit of a mutual fascination with the things.

 We thought we'd go and look at the boats moored on the Leicester Branch canal for the Crick Boat Show - being too stingy to pay to go in this year. What better than a walk down the towpath to Crick from the other end of the mile long Crick tunnel. OK we can't walk through the tunnel, but there must surely be a path over the top and into Crick
Frustratingly not - there must have been once because when the canals were cut the barges were all drawn by horses, which had to be led to the other end of the tunnel by land while the owners of boats "legged it" through, i.e. used their feet against the walls of the tunnel to propel the boat through.

 

But wherever it was it isn't there now, so we drove to the other end of the tunnel...

 ... in time to surprise some boat owners who we had already watched enter the tunnel at the other end.

 Duckling season - this mother had an entire cricket or football team of offspring, but as I said to Mrs. L. they will all be off her hands in a few months.

 Just couldn't resist the temptation to keep saying "The only gay in the village."

A wonderful couple of days, topped off by the fantastic news that our youngest son had proposed to his girlfriend who has agreed to marry him. So happy - they are so right for each other.

Now to return to the seemingly anal retentive nonconformists of the 19th century.

Froom Prim to proper

Had a wonderful two days at the Primitive Methodist Museum in Englesea Brook near Crewe, discovering the story of the Prims. An amazing story of how a movement started, and of what seems to happen to all new religious movements when they attain some kind of respectability and become part of the establishment. So many thanks to Jill (very clever and the source of an amazing amount of information) and Margaret (for just being really nice and welcoming and making me feel at home - and for the cake.)

An early Prim pulpit - maybe the first - a converted kitchen chest of drawers with a shelf added for a Bible and a preacher to peer over. They began in the open air and in homes / kitchens and parlours.

Then they moved on to the "mahogany" stage - building chapels, becoming more affluent, respectable, refined, educated, clever, sophisticated and eventually wound up reuniting with the Wesleyans from whom they had split some 120 years earlier. So they had become less Prim and more Proper.

Fascinating story behind this grave in the chapel. The theory is that there was a new vicar at the parish church who decided he wouldn't allow the Prims to be buried in his churchyard, so when one died they had to decide where to put him and could only think of under the chapel in the cellar. Then they bought some land and made a graveyard before the next one died. Only a theory but very attractive.

This wonderful quilt was made to present to the Countess of Carlisle to express appreciation for her patronage of the Temperance movement - a really big thing for Prims. Thought the ladies might appreciate this.

Came back with copious notes and a shelf full of food for thought

Sabbatical start

The blogging must get under way, my wife (who in deference to her nomenclature for me I shall call Mrs.L) is so good at it - see nicemurderknitter@blogspot.
Nearly 6 years into my current job - mainly being the minister of a Baptist cum Methodist church in Leicester and also a university chaplain and various other bits and pieces, none particularly important.
I started this job after a two year break from being a cleric when I drove a taxi to recover from the rather vicious beating I had experienced at my former post. Not a literal beating, you understand, just the slow torture of character assassination, undermining of credibility, endless passive aggression and a final coup de grace when the opportunity arose - or I should say was manufactured by some amazingly clever conspirators who would have been so wonderful had they put their time and energy into something useful.
I love my current church to bits - they are wonderful, and the last 6 years have flown by.
Now I am due a three month break from church duties and I have so much to get done in that time.
Yesterday I spent writing; I want to relate the story of my time in a private hire cab in West Yorkshire, because it was such an interesting and rewarding period in my life. I began writing when I stopped driving, so it has been coming along in dribs and drabs for 6 years. Yesterday I was very proud of myself - 4,000 words and now through the 70,000 word barrier.
I am planning a bit more today, then I am off to visit a church in Manchester where they work with people from deprived backgrounds - something I want to explore is communicating faith to people who have low literacy skills and little education (not that it will help much in my current church where half the congregation seem to have PhD's or other doctorates!) Then to the Primitive Methodist museum and library in Engleseabrook for a couple of days because I want to look at what may have been an authentic working class movement of the 19th century to see how they went about reaching people today's churches are so pants at connecting with.