St Mary's Church, Emmanuel Chapel (Rose Ash Circuit)

A Memory of Morchard Bishop.

My mother used to take us children to both St Mary's Church and the Emmanuel Chapel. Being a Presbyterian from Northern Ireland, she believed she was closest to "Church of England" but found the Methodist services and the hymn singing closer to what she had been familiar with at home - that was how she explained herself anyhow. I suspect she also had good friends among both congregations and didn't want to upset anyone either!
My memory of Mr Rustbridger, the first rector I knew, is rather hazy as sometime in the early 1960's he went off to look after the parish of Ide, near Exeter. All I really remember was the entire school being taken into the church to say goodbye to Mr and Mrs Rustbridger. His replacement, the Reverend Hardy and his wife were friendly, approachable people who spread God's love and supported Trevor Huddlestone in his relentless work in Africa (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Trevor_Huddleston).
I went to St Mary's Voluntary Primary School which had strong links with St Mary's. Mr Vernon Tipper was the Headmaster in charge of the seniors and his wife, who I never knew as anything other than "Mrs Tipper" ran the intermediate class. Mrs Schofield, who lived at Hill Barton, ran the infant class.
My best friend, Gary Morgan, and myself used to go to Sunday School where Reverend Hardy brought Bible stories to life and often embellished the tales with personal anecdotes and stories of his own, much-travelled, adventures. If we were very lucky, on a fine summer's day, Reverend Hardy or the sexton, Mr Hooper, might be persuaded to take us up the narrow steps to the top of the tower - marvelling at the belfry and the clock workings on the way. I don't remember much of the campanologists, except that Alfie Rice, the slaughterman who lived opposite the Emmanuel Chapel, was in charge of "Big Bertha" - the deep bass bell. No one else was allowed to touch it as to allow its clapper to hit the bell before it was "worked up" to its inverted state could fracture the massive structure and bring it crashing to the ground in bits! (So we were told, anyway!)
Sometimes, as a special treat, Mr Hooper would bring out a glass case that was kept near the big stone font and we would marvel at the fragment of a meteorite that had once rained down from the sky and brought one of the battlements crashing down from the tower. (Although you can't really see it from ground level, from our trips to the top of the tower you could make out which of the battlements had been replaced.)
At the time, the church didn't have much of a choir so Gary and I were encouraged to don surplus and cassock for Sunday evensong and try to lead the singing. With a mixture of eager anticipation and great sadness, I left the village to go to boarding school in 1969.
There aren't many people I know nowadays when I re-visit Morchard Bishop, but I always call in at St Mary's Churchyard and pay my respects to the friends and neighbours who have departed this life, if I am in the area. Overlooking open fields, and with seats or a stone wall available to rest awhile, the churchyard with its magnificent yew tree is a tranquil place for reflection.