On conforming.

Being back in the bosom of my family this weekend means I’m also back in the world of the non-non-conformists (a.k.a. the Church of England), and today was an especially good weekend to visit if I wanted my fill of Anglicanism, since today the curate of the parish, Chris, got turned from a deacon into a priest.

We took a trip out to the far and mysterious west (Hensingham in Whitehaven) to watch 6 charming folks become the Diocese of Carlisle’s newest Reverends.

There was singing, there was liturgy, there was ceremony, there were mitres and silver crosiers, and there was an abundance of tea and cake to follow.


And then we hopped back in the car and headed back to Carlisle for Chris’ first go at handing out communion, followed by yet more tea and cake.

I am persuaded by the non-conformist ways, and very happy there, but it’s always lovely to have a jaunt back to the Anglican gang – especially them in St Michael’s, since they’re such a fab bunch.

In summary: terribly episcopalian.

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