A QUESTION OF CONVENIENCE

The name Great Gidding was something of a misnomer as the population was only  some 400 or so.  The village had existed  peacefully for centuries. Nothing had in the poet Gray`s words, disturbed the even tenor of the villagers` ways.  Except the issue of the siting of the (proposed) loo.

            The problem was the proposal to build a lavatory in the vestry of the 14^th century parish church of St. Giles. Like many another church in a small community it was a focus for the villagers most of whom were believers or at least attenders. In a way it was the victim of its own success, with week day clubs, creches, Sunday Schools and the like. The Reverend Tom Hurst was a popular vicar or at least he was until he put forward the proposal for the loo. I could see why he was popular with the parishioners: outgoing, gregarious, and modern minded. I suppose he was in early middle age and looked the part of a go-ahead minister with his trim figure and handsome profile. The local furore was about to make national news and my newspaper wanted to be the first to report it.

                        “I had no idea ,” he said, “that such a hornets` nest would be stirred up.” His voice was low and sonorous and I could imagine it going down well with his congregation.

            “A mini civil war has broken out with supporters of the proposal on one side and opponents on the other , almost equally divided. It reminds me nothing so much as Clochmerle with a dash of  The Arches thrown in for good measure. “ He managed a smile.

                        “It was because the extra curricular activities , shall we call them, the clubs, etc., were so successful ….? “

                        “Exactly. I thought a loo would be a good idea under the circumstances, “ he added. “Here is where it would go .”  I could see it would make the vestry rather poky and said so. But apparently that was not the problem. After all, he was the one who had to use the vestry. 

                        “No,” he said, “that is not the bone of contention, if you will excuse the pun. Some of the villagers fear that long lost graves will be uncovered when drains are dug to the septic tank. You have to remember that some of the people have lived here all their lives and so their ancestry goes back a long time. They believe this church was built on or near to, a former graveyard.

                        The church was undeniably old and had been added to or repaired over the centuries. I gazed round. It was quite possible that what some of the people  feared could be true.

                        “I don`t believe it myself. Old parish documents throw no light on the origins. The trouble is they don`t go back far enough. Even in the unlikely event of bones being discovered, they would be put carefully into a suitable container and reburied in another plot of consecrated land in the grounds. No harm would be done. There would be no desecration.”

                        In the course of further conversation with the vicar , however, it seemed that when the matter was referred to the parish council , and a vote taken, only 10 were in favour while 12 were against, with 6 abstentions. 

                        The Church Court was to be presided over by a formidable lady , a Mrs Huyton, the Chancellor of the Diocese of …..shire, in which the church lay, in an attempt to settle the matter. The hearing was due to take place the same morning  as I had called upon Mr Hurst. At his invitation I would attend the meeting….as a reporter.

                        Before doing so, I gleaned some more background information.

                        “You should be aware that some church officials have resigned over the proposed development, `in disgust` as they put it , “ said the vicar. “Even my Churchwarden, David Hughes, has failed to support me over the issue by resigning.”

                        I realised that passions ran very deep. I knew before I arrived that people crossed the street to avoid talking to each other – people whom they construed as their opponents in the issue. 

                        “I suppose it is my resignation, or should I say, moving on, that has  sparked off the conflict. It is purely co-incidental but I acknowledge very unfortunate coming just at this time. The Bishop had decided I had been here  long enough. I would have liked to remain and to have seen the future outcome. “

                        “In the meantime…..?”

                        “So in the meantime the parishioners have no minister and the Bishop will not appoint a new one  until the dispute is resolved.”

                        The Worshipful Mrs Anne Huyton was not without a sense of humour notwithstanding  her no nonsense exterior made even more severe by the lawyer`s wig she wore.

                        “We have decided to hold this meeting in church for the convenience of all parties, “ she intoned, with a half smile. This, the best joke of the day, fell rather flat among the villagers, to whom the issue was no  laughing matter. The oak pews were packed with members of the warring factions on different sides of the aisle; supporters of the loo on the right, opponents on the left.. It was like attending a wedding but without the joyous atmosphere. I sat near the back with the Reverend Hurst, who said to me sotto voce, “Now we are going to go into battle “. He seemed to be looking forward to the deliberations, convinced  as he was of the rightness of his opinion.

                        The protagonists in the dispute were called upon first to say their say, give evidence., etc., : the rector first, outlining his case with emphasis on  the  necessity on occasion to minister to the physical needs of his flock, particularly when the mothers and children attended the Sunday School and the other clubs and societies. Former Churchwarden David Hughes, as spokesman for the anti-proposal faction, made the point that meetings had been going on for ages and that in any case, disturbing the bones of the dead would be anathema in God`s eyes. One of the principal opponents of the scheme was the local gravedigger , Arthur Barnes, who asserted vehemently that consecrated ground would be desecrated. He would never countenance it. It would only happen “over my dead body”  which many in the church thought an  unfortunate connotation.

                        Mediation had been attempted by the Parish Council chairman, Matthew Sheen. He managed  to slip into a rear pew at the last minute before being called upon to give “evidence”.

                        “Have you been out for a pee behind the gravestones?” his neighbour whispered.

                        “No – quick fag,” he replied. “If we`re going to have a loo here, let`s have some ashtrays as well.”

                        Despite the gravity of the situation, I was glad to see  (or rather, overhear) that some at least of the congregation had not lost a sense of humour.

                                    The rector was not going to enter the fray unprepared. He had the support of the  parochial church council who had themselves enlisted the aid of a temporal power in the shape of a lawyer , a spiritual power in an archdeacon and most important of all , the local builder who would cast an experienced eye on the ground where excavations were mooted. The objectors clearly did not feel the need for such back-up of their case. For one thing there were more of them , predominantly male and elderly. They sat in a body filling row after row, one gray suit after another, muttering such comments as “ridiculous”, “stupid”; “unnecessary” was the mildest epithet heard. The supporters, mostly female, uttered indignant asides to each other along the lines of they being women who attended the special groups with their children, “needed the facility” from time to time , so their point of view should be heeded.

                                    Officials on both sides gave their views first followed by individual contributions pro and con. The rector`s point that in the unlikely event of remains being discovered they would be circumspectly re-interred did not go down well. Gasps of indignation came from the opposition pews , of which the interjection “Christ” was clearly heard – the first and only time that Divine Aid was called upon to help solve the problem.

                                    It must be said that the main thrust of the counter argument , that self-denial was good in all circumstances and that it was unseemly (and improvident) to be taken short in the House of God, got an equally frosty reception from the plan`s supporters. Motivated  and passionate adherents of the two sides stood up and spoke their minds. It seemed to help your argument if you had been in the village upwards of twenty years.  Newcomers such as Mrs Crowley who rose to support the  creation of the loo, lost some credence when she unfortunately began with the words , “I have lived in the village sixteen years…..” only to be greeted with. if I heard aright , with a disparaging “Bloody newcomer” from a figure on the opposition benches.

                                    Prepared written statements were much in evidence , many of them adopting a high moral tone intimating that the giving way to the exigencies of the flesh on holy ground was not appropriate . Indeed the provision of a lavatory (obviously thought to be a more derogatory term than toilet) would, said one opponent, “run counter to the encouragement of the spiritual welfare of the congregation”. Worshippers should be above such a thing , clearly. Basically, the counter argument was simple: “When you want to go, you want to go” as one speaker put it , mincing no words. “If the Lord said `let my people go ` it`s good enough for me”: thus proving  the Chairperson  had no monopoly on humour.

                                    I thought it only fair when one man addressed the meeting with the objection that during a service people wishing to use the loo (“lavatory”) would have to walk up the aisle – because it was not envisaged , at least by the vicar, that this might be when the facility would be used. Walking up the aisle , he said, would be  “hardly conducive to prayers and meditation both for the individual/s and the rest of the congregation. “. Another wondered “where the vicar would spend his time in meditation if the vestry was take over by a lavatory.” I felt that this latter comment was not necessarily a telling one as ministers of religion are not confined surely to a vestry for meditative purposes and in fact that much meditation by ordinary mortals takes place in toilets, of a more secular kind it is true. But I refrained from giving voice to this opinion.

                                    On the other hand, concentration on the words of wisdom  emanating from the pulpit would be  “enormously helped” by the provision of the facility proposed ….there was nothing like “peace of mind” as an aid to meditation. The counters were immediate and often pithy,

                                    Some objections did not seek to be exclusively on the side of the angels , adducing that cost was also a factor in their stance. This is where the lawyer proved his worth , informing the assembly that expenses were already running high; almost equalling the entire cost of the loo.

                                    “The crucial thing is to establish exactly where the drain will run,” said the elegant and handsome Mrs Huyton, as she swept out with her entourage to inspect the lie of the land. High heels sinking into the earth (it had been a rainy autumn)  and her becoming  costume with its circumspect  hem line  not really suitable for close quarter ground examination , she nevertheless did not flinch from duty. In the face of conflicting evidence and counsels, I felt not much had been accomplished by the scrutiny in the graveyard. But I may be wrong. Something must have come out of five hour long meeting.

                                    The hearing was ended by Mrs Huyton with an appeal for compromise in the interim , while she considered her verdict.: a promised announcement coming in a couple of weeks.

                                    “Bury the hatchet,” she advised, “accept that we have had a thorough  examination of the issues.”

                                    She hoped, she said,  that this “had cleared the air. For an unpleasant miasma to continue  would  bring shame on this village.”

                                    Even the most stony faces had to smile.

© A.B. Finlay Ph.D