Sunday, 4 October 2015

Celebrant Weddings | Can they be religious?

Cleanliness? Godliness? Don't ask me...!




So, someone asked me last week, if I would write and officiate at a religious ceremony...and I thought about it for a few days.

The thinking brought to mind a conversation I'd had with a small friend, Oliver, three and a half years old, who I had asked, what I thought was a simple-ish question:
"Have you seen any good films recently?"

He looked at me, somewhat sternly I thought, and answered,
"I think you know I have..."

I really didn't know, and wasn't being patronising - it turned out it was Ice Age - and I was given clues to help me get the right answer...( took a while...)

This blog is a bit shaggy dog story (in many ways...) but bear with me...

In my last blog I alluded to an 'interesting' summer. It actually involved, as well as the birth of my gorgeous grandson, the much sadder gradual picking off, one by one, of my lovely hens by a fox (hen harrier, pole-cat, person!?) until, left with only our amazingly handsome cockerel, Sammy, with his true love, Doris, we hurried them to the haven of a great new home with the the amazing Naked Vigneron here
where they could wander as freely as they did here...



'Well,' said kind friends, ' at least no more hen poo on the terrace...' ( or, they might have added, in the kitchen, under the table, on the lounger - for they were VERY free-ranging...)






And then we had to have our very much loved and special dog, Duffy, put down - she was 14 and had crammed at least three lives into those years. The first one as a friend to a guy who had gigged in the area for some years, singing in bars, with Duffy making friends with the audience while he sang in his Joe Cocker voice - Duffy loved a bit of blues thereafter... 

When he died, Duffy joined our farmer-neighbour's beagle pack and ranged with them for hours and miles, escaping naughtily through hedges and over his fences to roam the countryside. She'd come to us to be towelled clean before she went home in case she was hosed down with cold water - in fact she retained a horror of hoses until the end...

And when he died, she came to us to have a more gentle life and  just be part of a big family and was loved by everyone including our cats - she was very special...




Duffs moulted A LOT - and when I cleaned, the hair and dust I hoovered up from the corners of rooms could have made a whole other dog...

Well then - no more hen poo - BUT no more busy hens pottering about on their daily walks, no hens joining us under tables outside, hoping for a  tasty dropped morsel and no more sun glinting through Sammy the cockerel's rainbow and ridiculously flamboyant tail feathers (no more singing, tunelessly for me 'shake a tailfeather baby'...!) - and no more Duffy dust - BUT no more Duffy...

And you know what? I think cleanliness, much like that other 'ness' which is supposed to be  next to it in some sort of virtuous line-up - godliness - is really very much over-rated...

So that question, asked at the beginning of this blog (well done those who had faith that it was leading somewhere...!) - would I do a religious ceremony?

Well, in Oliver's stern words, I think you know!



1 comment:

  1. great blog. Oh the joys and tears of owning special friends but who would have missed all the meaningful moments and all that love in spite of all the hairs, mud, grit and surprise showers from unexpected shakes after a dip in something rather dubious. The joy and exhuberance of sharing our family,social and chilling out time with us. Their presence marking several chapters of our lives. It takes time for their ghost to float away and the hole to heal.

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