You can’t come in there’s a service on.

I was late. I admit it. I had had a midweek service and then had to drive from Wolverhampton to Lichfield. And you’re not allowed to park within half a mile of the Cathedral. But still I made it only a few minutes after the service had started. And I was only meant to be in the congregation. So it didn’t really matter.

But, as I approached the doors of the Cathedral there was a verger blocking my way. I tried to walk tall, to reveal the dog collar under the beard. So that he would know who I was. It was after all a service for the clergy. The annual Maundy Thursday Liturgy to be precise. We were instructed to be there by the Bishops. Three line whip almost.

And then he said it. And I wished that there was a tape recorder handy. But there never is when you need one.

“You can’t come in there’s a service on.”

Priceless. Keep them out. It’s the best way. If we let people in then the services won’t run half as smoothly. They’ll only want to change things. And what is worse they might bring their children.
I had been there before. In another parish, I wondered why the congregation were predominantly middle aged. A few well behaved children in the choir, who bullied anyone they didn’t like into leaving, but only when no-one could see. But otherwise adults all.

Then I discovered why. I went to visit a couple about a baptism. I had seen them before and suggested that they might like to come to the occasional service. But they never had, or so I thought. So they told me then. The churchwarden had met them at the door. Seen the children. And suggested that they would be happier going to the URC church down the road. They welcome children there he said. Meaning we don’t. And he suggested that if I want them in I should run parent craft classes to teach them how to behave.

On another occasion my curate had tried to start youth services. Get a bit of a sound system in, a few overheads (in the days before data projectors), maybe a few coloured spotlights. He had been into the local schools, advertised the event, the buzz was that it would be good. And again no-one came. Except the well-behaved choirboys. Then he went to the door and discovered the same churchwarden explaining to a group of young people that the service was restricted to children of church members, and they weren’t included.

One of the choir had in fact already asked me why we had to have children in at all. Then when I tried to get them to move the altar forward in line with modern practice, I asked what is the focus of the church at the communion service and the same choir man said “The choir”.

And then there were the young people who were tidying up around another church on their way home from school. They were putting the rubbish in the bins alongside the church at the moment the churchwarden arrived. “Don’t use our bins.” She said. “But we’re picking up the litter,” they said. “Well we pay for those bins,” she said. Later I talked to her about welcoming young people especially when they were actually helping us out. “My first responsibility is to protect the building,” she said.

In the same parish there was a regular in tears at the beginning of one service. Usually they wait till the end, after sitting through my services. When I asked her what had upset her she told me someone else had watered her flowers.

When I arrived in Sedgley I was greeted by an anonymous letter complaining about my dusty shoes and ragged fingernails. My family were told that they were improperly dressed for church and told off for not sitting in the “vicarage pew” or kneeling for the confession.

Comments have been made that I root around in the outdated bins in the supermarket and even that we left old milk bottles on the windowsill overlooking the road. When we organised a band for family service we were told the music was inappropriate for worship.

At one time I was quite ill and Sue had to fight off the phone calls. To one caller she simply said, “Peter’s in bed”. So it went round the village that I didn’t get up until at least 10.00am.

After Sue left, no-one offered help, women especially were warned not to approach the vicarage, and even to speak to me in the street was a cause for scandal. That backfired when one, upset because she was told not to put a playgroup flyer through my door, phoned me and we arranged to meet well away from prying eyes and began a lasting friendship.

When I've prayed for the sick I have been told not to pray for some individuals (who “don’t look ill”), and we are regularly told not to pray for those who are homeless or for those who hold, or have lost public office.

Sometimes it is just pure gold that comes out of PCC meetings. There was one congregation that was entirely made up of the over seventies. Most of the committee had been there for fifty years, Annie had also been the churchwarden for twenty five years. When I arrived, Annie greeted me with “I’ve seen eight vicars out and I’ll see you out.” Which she did.

On one occasion we were looking for someone to help out at the church and a local was mentioned. Annie dismissed her, “You never see her cleaning her step”. Someone else was commended, “at least she is Cumbrian.” “Aye but her mother wasn’t.” At the deanery synod we had to vote on something and after the result was announced Annie put her hand up. “Can I change my vote?” Why “I’ve never voted with the majority in my life, and I don’t want to start now.” After six years Annie came up to me after one event and simply said “You’ll do”

Then there is the approach to social events. There have been many occasions where a group of disparate people have come together under the umbrella of the church for an evening’s entertainment. Usually you can rely on someone chiming in with, “I hope we make some money tonight otherwise we are wasting our time.”

There have been many anonymous letters over the years. One asked why I was so stressed when my (beloved) predecessor had been well able to cope. Once as I announced my leaving I received a letter from another of my many anonymous correspondents saying that Wolverhampton were welcome to me.

We did a parish survey once – on what people thought the church ought to be doing, that sort of thing, anonymous so people would say what they think. Anyway there was a write in vote to get rid of the vicar (me). People wrote comments saying I wasn’t up to the job and how the NSM did all the work. Trouble was that in one house they had six forms and to make sure they each had a say someone helpfully put their names at the top. They were the most vitriolic. They were from the NSM’s house.

And social conscience has left many behind. Someone’s response, at a church lunch, to the troubles of the world was, “If you can’t catch them and lock them up, shoot them.” About asylum seekers, single mothers, migrant workers, anyone under 35, whoever.

And it would of course be a useful source of much needed organ donations. After one funeral where it was announced that the organs had been donated, someone was overheard to say, “I wish I’d known we would have had the lungs for our Steve.”

Having the laity take part on services has been wonderful. You can be sure of a few howlers. And the time of UDI in Rhodesia we were asked to pray for Africa as “things look very black out there”.  The same intercessor during one of the many winters of discontent prayed “that the trade unions come to their senses”. Not a word about sense from government or the companies. Perhaps she thought it was too late for them.

Not that clergy always get it right. I knew one priest who always prayed for “those who are sick of this parish”