The village is famous
for its very tall filigree church spire, pointing fastidiously to heaven. You can see it from far and near from many
directions in the countryside around.
Now that I am thinking spiritually, along the complex and evanescent lines suggested by C S Lewis, I feel drawn to Evensong whenever I see the spire or hear the church bells ringing. They ring very often. In fact, the bellringers practise the whole of Monday and Wednesday and Friday evening which makes Richard swear and ask why in heaven’s name we moved here. (Naturally they perform for a very long time on Sundays.) On the other days he forgets about it: Richard doesn’t bear a grudge. Whenever there is a funeral, which is more often than is respectable, the great bell Vengeance tolls for most of the day. Returning from shopping in Laxley or wandering back to the village along a public footpath, I am transfixed by St Agnes’ spire hovering over the fields. On each sighting, from every angle, the summons is more insistent.
The spire definitely has
a hold over the villagers. The cardboard
signs by roadside plant stalls and on garden gates leading to jumble sales
invariably read ‘Tower Preservation Fund’ in uneven capitals. I have heard that a newcomer was ostracised
for holding a raffle for Save The Children.
And the tower is famous for its beckoning. It beckons people from various high points
across the county, and daily beckons villagers to a closer acquaintance,
despite the quality of the vicar.
Mrs Dilkes often stands
staring at the improbable finger. She
told me that Peter Hopkirk’s father Jacob once climbed it for a dare and
refused to climb back down. Mrs Dilkes
says she was quite a girl, which I can hardly imagine, to look at her; but she
remembers old Jacob Hopkirk frozen in fear, looking down on the upturned faces
of the cheering villagers. It did not
end happily.
A builder who was
afraid of heights kindly climbed the tower to join Jacob on the ledge and found
himself equally pinioned by fear against the crenellations. After a while the builder engaged the crowd with
a brief attempt at a descent, during
which he dislocated one or two elbows. The two men remained transfixed for
hours underneath the famous sneering gargoyle and a relay of beer from the Lone
Gelding kept the crowd’s spirits high until the fire brigade was called and
arrived with an entertaining extra-extending appliance. The builder told the Laxley Gazette that the
gargoyle sneered at him the whole time. Some
people call the spire unlucky.
Dogs Delight is now available on Kindle at
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dogs-Delight-ebook/dp/B00CA8XZKC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1368550507&sr=1-1&keywords=dogs+delight
Dogs Delight is now available on Kindle at
http://www.amazon.co.uk/Dogs-Delight-ebook/dp/B00CA8XZKC/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1368550507&sr=1-1&keywords=dogs+delight