Note the tea stains in the plughole.
Note the cat in the cutlery.
Fr. Brett would be so proud.
DON’T GIVE UP THE DAY JOB:
The Vicar made and decorated holy cakes for Generation X.
In true Anglo-Catholic style, the Head Server did all the work and rescued the enterprise at several key stages, whilst the Churchwarden did all the cleaning and clearing up (before, during and afterwards).
The finished product is here (Well, half the finished product. The Cellarer forgot to photograph them before some were eaten. We think he may have been having a religious experience and was intoxicated by the Holy Spirit):
Left to right, top to bottom, they are supposed to represent:
S. Bartholomew (flayed alive)
S. Sebastian (shot with arrows)
S. Paul Miki (in a vat of boiling oil)
The star of Bethlehem
Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden
S. Ignatius of Antioch (eaten by lions)
Ichthoi (fish recalling the Name of Jesus)
S. Alphage (beaten with ox bones)
S. Edmund (tied to a tree and shot with arrows)
No, we don’t get it either.
SAINTLY NICKY’S BICCIES
It’s a pretty rare thing to see the Vicar in the kitchen, but even more special when you have a Bishop round to do the cooking. In honour of the Saint Nick’s Fayre, the first ever Girl Bishop of Forton popped round and turned her hand to some gingerbread letter shapes, a traditional treat for the Feast of Saint Nicholas.
Naturally, the Vicar tried to arrange the letters into various rude words and phrases, but luckily +Ophelia put a stop to that silliness, and instead encouraged the following edifying messages: