The Church of Scotland village church is relatively new having opened 220 years ago - as mentioned before, the old church is in ruins - but built next to the graveyeard which has graves that go back to the Great Plague. Several were taped with fearsome orange duct tape, warning that the headstones were unstable.
As I entered the church just before 9.30am, all heads swung in my direction and I slithered into the back pew, next to one of the knitting ladies. I counted 17 in the congregation, and five attendants. Later, whilst having tea in the village shop/cafe, I was told that was an excellent turn-up, even though I estimated the church could seat 500. All were elderly and the silence, whilst we awaited the arrival of the presiding priest, was awesome. Only broken by one old lady heard to loudly say: "I make it gone half past".
We opened with Hymn 42. A bit of a dirge but fortunately the gentleman in front of me who had very large ears knew the tune and he sang very LOUDLY, if rather tunelessly, which helped the rest of us out. I knew the tune to the second hymn, "O God our Help in Ages Past", but it was extremely difficult to sing along as the organist played so slowly it was virtually impossible to take a large enough breath to get through each stanza.
The priest prayed that we would not suffer 'war, pestilence or famine' (when was the last time someone updated the prayers?). After the lengthy sermon about war and man's suffering, he advised that 'the offering will now be uplifted'. This was the tricky bit - how much to offer? I strained to see what others were giving but they all had envelopes (like the charity ones given out on airplanes) so I emptied all my coins onto the plate which made a large clatter and looked rather offensively inappropriate amongst all the secret envelopes.
The communion service that followed actually came with waiter service. One of the attendants personally came and handed round real bread on a silver platter. Then the attendant picked up a large wooden platter with a handle, which had about 20 miniature glasses lowered into carved holes, and this was handed around. A rather nice port, as it turned out. Hanging over the back of the pew in front were silver holders in which to place the empty glass.
The final hymn was 'God Save the Queen' - which has three verses, written by two people about a century apart. And then everyone shuffled out, in silence, pausing only to shake the limp hand of the reverend.
As a reward for my heavenly endeavours, I stopped by the shop to collect my papers, The Observer and Scotsman on Sunday, and have a cup of tea:
I had a most interesting chat with Theresa and Mahri about landmark turning points in Scotland's history, in particular the Highland Clearances - not the introduction of store sales, but a time when whole families were forced out of their homes and off their lands to make way for sheep and the lucrative wool trade.
Theresa also told me that in its heyday the village had several thousand residents - which does explain a church built to house a congregation of 500. Today, I'm told the village population is about 400. The only wool trade, as far as I can gather, takes place on Monday afternoons at the Knitting Circle.
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