Vicarage

A Memory of Shabbington.

My folks moved out in 1985 - we'd been there from 1960, the year I was born, and much had been done to sort out the huge garden. Mum grew lots of veg and we kept chickens as well. When Mrs. Dupont died, her cottage at the top of the yard was rebuilt as it was very old and the builders gave us a lot of firewood from it. My dad, Bob Collier, used to take a 7:30am service at St. Mary's twice a month, and I was allowed to chime one of the bells and he had to tell me not to ring it too high. The Crendon ringers came to practice once a month (the foreman then was Mr. Tyler) and I ended up a ringer myself elsewhere in 1999. Those days you could help out on the farms - I used to do a bit for Bert Heley at Franklins Farm and for Mr. Tombs at village Farm, and once the annual rogation service was held there when my dad took the service from an ancient dung cart! Before the railway line by North Weston shut in the 1960s we could see when a train passed from the smoke and steam from it's chimney - there was a gate to the churchyard then. And there were ghosts, we were told - I saw the 'grey lady' in the passage once (it's now part of the kitchen) and my mum saw a previous vicar walk silently through the study window one evening when she was putting me to bed- it must have been 1963. I don't think any of us saw the Roman with his chariot who had this habit of driving into the pond in Church Close.
Now, here's a check if you're Shabbington or not - are you able to complete this line from a Shabbington song (only those who know need apply!):
"woa woa Jerusalem, N....................................." Good luck. 'vicar'