Variety in a Life of Spice

Yesterday in church we said the Benedicite instead of singing the Gospel hymn, apparently because it’s Lent. It’s not a change I’m familiar with, but fair enough. The benedicite is a long prayer in which every line begins “Bless the Lord”, and this instruction is given to every part of creation: “Bless the Lord, you sun and moon; stars of heaven bless the Lord” and so on. Anyway, the third line of the umpteenth verse (it goes on for a while) was “Bless the Lord, you toads and all that move in the waters…” I did a sort of blink, but said it anyway, feeling deeply suspicious. I’ve just looked it up, and sure enough, it’s supposed to be whales, not toads. It’s been changed just for Madingley. I think that’s wonderful. The toads made their way into the intercessions, too.

At least it has more purpose than the change the hymn “I cannot tell” (the one that goes to the Londonderry air) in our friend Charlotte’s church. A line in the third verse on the overhead projector read, “And he shall reap the kumquats he has sown”. As it grew closer with terrible inevitability, I knew it wasn’t right, but couldn’t for the life of me think what the real words were. When we got to the verse, I sang ‘kumquats’. Everyone in the church did; and then the entire congregation began shaking gently, and it wasn’t due to the Holy Spirit. This turned out to be the result of a bet between a music leader and a previous vicar, that the one couldn’t make the other say ‘kumquats’ during the service, and no-one had thought to change it back on the OHT. I now can’t sing that verse of that song with a straight face, which is a problem, as it’s a popular choice for weddings, funerals etc.

Of course, now that I’ve told the story on my blog, the kumquats and toads are out there. I do apologise if anyone has to sing either of these in the coming week…

The toad patrol are out!!

I ought to explain that our village is famous for toads. As you drive in or out, you’ll see a sign with an imposing-looking toad on it, warning drivers that in certain seasons, the road can become hazardous – although it’s probably even more hazardous if you happen to be a toad.

The mating ground for these creatures, apparently, is on one side of the road, and the hibernating ground on the other. Around Valentine’s day, we’re expecting to see toads in their hundreds hopping across to pair off. Of course, since the road is a well-known alternative to the busy A14, and since dusk, when the toads emerge, more or less coincides with the rush hour at this time of year, there are quite a few casualties.

Consequently, today we found ourselves taking cups of tea and biscuits out to a hard-working group of men and women wearing yellow reflective jackets with ‘TOAD PATROL’ in big letters across the back. They were digging a narrow line in which to plant a low net fence, attempting to channel the lovelorn toads into a tunnel that runs underneath the road. Later on, when the toads actually emerge, the Patrol will return at dusk and stand around with buckets, capturing any wayward animals and carrying them across to the pond. Legend has it that local school children are sometimes asked to join in, and we’ve met so many people at church that are talking about ‘doing their bit’ this year, we’re beginning to wonder whether the whole village is going to be lined up along the side of the road in shifts from now until the end of March.

If it is, I’m grabbing a bucket and my wellies and joining in.