It was Palm Sunday, which meant that we got to Process. The congregation congregated in the Surgery car park, was handed palm fronds and hymn sheets, and off we went, Choir Mistress, Band, Choir, He-priest and She-priest, and Uncle Tom Cobbley and All. Up the hill, down the dale, over the road, past the duckpond, across the green and into the church, all singing like mad things. Because no-one could hear anything, the back of the procession was anywhere between three bars and an entire verse behind the front. But hey ho, Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam and all that. Then the children turned their palm crosses around, holding them like swords, and started a fight in the church. Argh. No wonder there's a very vocal faction within the church community which doesn't want the little beggars in church at all.
UPDATE I forgot to say, Yvonne (a grandmother deeply loved by the entire flock) read the first Lesson, telling us it was from Paul's Letter to the Filipines. I had no idea the early church was so far-reaching.