edifice in Grimsby that it has a name, and that name, like many good
Christian churches (what's up with The Mormons?!), is derived from the
saint to which it is dedicated. In this case it is St. James. I pass
by St. James' Church regularly every day as I go to and from the town
center. Today on Friday a couple things were going on there. I
discovered that the interior was open to the public (which I had never
seen before up to this occasion), and this because an art show was
going on – a local art guild, the North Lincs Art Society, displaying
and selling their work. (Later at the noon hour there was a concert of
three ladies known by the name, The Divas. I had been intrigued when I
heard of it – hey, free music! I'm always up for that. And they were
fine singers; it's just that a lot of their repertoire was gospel
spirituals and jazz pop songs from the 60s, not my favorite. It was
sad to me at the end when the lady who announced the program remarked,
it is SO lovely to see the church filled with people. That's the way
it should be all the time! **See reference below) There was one
wonderful moment during the concert and that was in the closing song,
Jerusalem, from a poem by William Blake, set to music by Sir Hubert
Parry. (Enter And did those feet in ancient time into Wikipedia, for a
good long treatise on the poem, song.) Now that was a gorgeous song!!
I guess there's a great deal of nationalistic pride associated with
it, a lot of history, resulting in a lot of meaning to many people. It
is so catchy and beautiful, I am not at all surprised.
But I digress: coming to look and admire the art, we were invited to
vote for our favorite. So, not only was there the awesome church
interior to devour, there was also artwork -- something you may know
that I am particularly fond of. After enjoying all the pieces – there
were some I REALLY liked, but price, and getting it home, held me back
– I came upon a grouping of unframed art, all at very reasonable
prices. Can you imagine that I found one I had to have?! You may get a
small inkling of it above. It is an original oil, unframed on oiled
canvas, by an artist by the name of Carol Emsley. I like it a lot and
it will fit well with the other floral pieces I have in my collection
at home. In fact, I admire her work SO much that I will follow it all
the way to Caistor in December when she will have a one-woman show at
the Arts & Heritage Center there.
After I'd selected the piece and taken it up to pay, the two attending
ladies, also members of the artist society, began to appreciate my
selection. Began to ooh and ah over it admiringly, "Oh, yes, it is
indeed lovely, and oh, my, such a good price. And see it's by an
artist whose work they knew and happened to respect very much. Hey,
I've got a good eye for art, and though I hadn't needed their comments
to convince me of the value of my find, they happily confirmed that
indeed I had come across a keeper!
New friend – you really know there's something there if they have a
name! Went to the Co-operative Travel Agency to exchange some more
money. Was greeted warmly as I entered by a young lady who had helped
me the first time I'd been around. She left her position at the travel
desk and entered the glass-enclosed money exchange booth. (As I
mentioned travel agencies and excursions are VERY big here. I supposed
that whereas we are more apt to travel around to U.S. to see all the
amazing sites of our own varied and extensive country, here in Europe,
in a similarly–sized area, people branch out to any number of
countries, and need currency of that particular end point.) She had
been especially exuberant and kind when we first met, and if it were
possible, was even more friendly this time around. I asked her name so
I could greet her when I come back in (which is often as this is where
you do this sort of thing – travel agencies, the post office [but
certainly NOT banks! What was I thinking to have tried it that first
day?!!), and customer service and their fees definitely make a
difference in which you choose!) Carol, that was her name, and I
talked a lot about her family: having recently married, for a second
time, for about six weeks now (had gone to NY, Miami, and the Florida
Keys??sp on her honeymoon). Has two kids, with the names: Alyssa, 7,
and Jack, almost 5. Pretty darling, she had oozed -- at that age where
they say the darndest things. You could tell she pretty much adored
the life out of them. Says she'll see me again. Cheerio.
Hah! Had a chance to do some missionary work today. On the way out of
St. James' I was looking for some further information about the
church. Began to talk to a good friendly man -- a short, stocky gent
(think Danny Devito, even dressed the way I remember him) who I knew
had some responsibility there -- not an ecclesiastical one though, I
got the impression. (Discovered in a later conversation that he's the
church manager: the one who takes all the flack! he told me jokingly.)
I went to shake his hand and asked his name, "Mr {pause}?" Oh, no,
Mike, just Mike.
Mike knew lots of interesting things about the church, and was happy
to share it -- like that it took its present form in 1250 A.D. (If you
know anything about big, old churches like this, you will realize that
they are renovated over and over through the centuries of their lives.
As it says in a brochure I was perusing: Over the centuries the church
building has been redesigned, damaged and repaired, rebuilt, reordered
and extended to meet the contemporary needs of the community it
serves.) He said as how this church had been part of a series of
edifices that worshippers followed on their pilgrimage route, on the
way to Spain to some cathedral or other. Must have had some major
significance, what?! To have travelled that far to worship there? From
St. James the group trekked on to Louth, and from there on and on.)
He shared also that the east flank of the church had received
extensive bombing damage during the war. On an unrelated note – I had
been sad to see the first time I saw St. James' and looked over its
schedule was that I found no listing of when Evensong would be
performed. I was very happy to learn as part of or conversation that
the choir was just on summer recess and that Evensong would continue
in the fall. Hurray!
Anyway, as we were talking, the United States came up, and Mike asked,
I assume you're from America?
Yes.
Whereabouts?
Utah. Do you know where that is? (I always say a couple states over
from CA, everybody seems to know where CA & NY are. And there's always
Las Vegas to throw in as you direct thoughts east, to help orient
people.) **Mike was saying as how in its day St. James' had been a
rich man's church, referring to the fact that there would have been
ample money for the building and refurbishing of this glorious
structure, but now the congregation size had declined severely (In
truth, being so massive, the church does have a vast interior, so a
small grouping couldn't help but appear particularly scanty.), and
mostly now it is home to mostly a lot of old parishioners. I told him
what church I was affiliated with and enthusiastically added that in
our church congregation size is on the upswing, that it continues to
rise –in fact, all around the world. I said that I would very much
like to come and enjoy the service at St. James" some time. (Wouldn't
you know that St James' meets about the same time as the Grimsby
wards? Phoo!) He mentioned something about the desire he had to visit
Colorado, and I said, why, that's right next door to Utah.
As we parted Mike said maybe if he ever got over to Utah he would like
to come and visit our church. I chimed up, (here it's coming – the
golden moment!) saying he wouldn't have to wait till then because
there were actually two wards (parishes like) right here in Grimsby,
UK, and that I was sure I'd see him again and would tell him more
about it the next time. Yeah, a missionary experience!
Finally, after three tries, I managed to end up at The Barge the same
time as Derrick. (Derrick of The Barge. Sounds like an adventure movie
to me – or a book title!) So Derrick is Richard's (and now Mandy's)
dear, longtime friend. He is the owner of about the awesomest pub in
all of Grimsby, and that is because it actually is resting in water
that comes under the bridge from the docks (It might also be because
it has the best pub fare in all the town, but I can't vouch for that
because I haven't eaten it yet. Hopefully I'll have a chance next
week, with Sandra!). Actual water, right in the heart of town! There's
Market Hall and then Freshney Place, followed lastly by the Post
Office and the bus station, towards the end of this giant shopping
areas. And right there -- right next to all the buses weaving in and
out -- is The Barge, sitting low and steady in the water.
It was obvious instantly that Derrick was just as welcoming and
cordial as Richard had said he would be. He chuckled when I told him
that Richard told me I should say I'd come in to collect on one of
Richard's free meals. Derrick invited me to sit down and join him in a
lively discussion with a coupla blokes. I've always found it pleasing
to be the center of gentlemen's attention, I have to admit, though you
may also know that hanging and making small talk is not my favorite
thing. They were all very nice, though the subject of the discussion
centered around a man's world, so didn't stay too long. Didn't want to
overstay my smoke screen (that I was a cool American!). I'll be back
many more times, for sure, so much more later about the day to day
adventures of THE BARGE!! (That name sounds like a soap or a sitcom.
CHEERS anybody?!)
Photos
1- interior shot of St. James'
2 - the find – mixed flowers by Carol Emsley
3- me and Zoey, friendly bar attendant at The Barge. (See. I really AM here!)
