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Services for Sunday 10 August 2014

Mount Bures (MB), Wormingford (WF), Little Horkesley (LH), #1662 service

08:00 Holy Communion  # WF

09:15 Parish Communion  MB

11:00 Family Communion  LH

11:00 Morning Service  WF

18:30 Evening Service  LH

Services for Next Week (17 August)

Mount Bures (MB), Wormingford (WF), Little Horkesley (LH), # 1662 service

09:15 Family Communion  MB

11:00 Family Communion  WF

11:00 Morning Service  LH

18:30 Evening Service & Communion  LH

Your coming in and going out

 How beautiful are the feet

Of those who bring good news!

 (Romans 10:5-15)

 

Readings for Sunday 10 August

Romans 10:5-15  & Matthew 14:22-33 (WF 8:00, MB, LH 11:00)

Song of Solomon 8:5-7  &  2 Peter 3:8-13 (WF 11:00)

1 Kings 19:9-18  &  Matthew 14:22-33 (LH 18:30)

Please pray for

Our new Bishop, the Rt. Revd. Roger Morris, as he settles in to his new home in Colchester.

 The success of the many initiatives within the Benefice, concerning our mission to the community and our buildings, and those involved in the planning.

 The healing and wellbeing of Tony Clements, Dianne Gant, Hugh Houston & Hector Barr.

Mount Bures Family Fun Day at Hammonds Farm

Sunday 17 August, noon – 4pm at Hammonds Farm, Hemps Green, Fordham CO6 3LS. Lots of activities are planned for all ages, including a BBQ, games and stalls, with a tractor and animals thrown into the mix! Email emma@hammondsfarm.com if you plan to go.

Three Churches Discovery Walk 20 September

Publicity is now out for the walk on Saturday 20 September.  Please distribute leaflets and posters widely, and remember to book in yourself! There will be something for everyone to do, whether walking, marshalling, refreshments or Church manning etc.

Ride & Stride – 13 September

The annual sponsored Ride & Stride takes place on Saturday 13 September, 10 a.m. to 6 p.m. This is an enjoyable way to support your local church and the Friends of Essex Churches charity (50% to each). Volunteers are required to ride, stride and man the churches to welcome visitors. For forms go to: http://www.foect.org.uk/rideandstride/

Future Events – Friends of St. Andrew’s Wormingford

12-14 September: Art Exhibition at St. Andrew’s

10 October (7 p.m.): Film Evening ‘Constable Observed (Ronnie Blythe 1970)’ WF Village Hall.

RichardB on August 8th, 2014

Ronald Blythe waits for the summer to break, and goes barefoot

 

THE current shelling of an Eastern city brings Milton’s Samson Agonistes into my head. “Eyeless in Gaza, at the mill with slaves.” The heroic leader has been seduced, cropped, blinded, but in a moment of God-given return of strength, he is able to pull the house down on is tormentors.

An apologist for the bombing is unable to persuade me or anyone else of its righteousness. Milton’s Samson is not named on the breakfast news, but when “Gaza” is said, he seems to criticise the military action taken against a modern city in which today’s children cower in their classrooms. Hasn’t the world seen enough of this “justified” response? Words would have done. Words would have done for all wars.

Apart from Gaza, the radio says that the summer will break today. Though little sign of it as yet. The ancient farmhouse continues to bake; the wasps hang around. Climbing roses burst against the warm walls. My freshly scythed orchard turns into hay. At 6 a.m., the garden is sopping wet and cold to bare feet, as I carry yesterday’s letters to the box for the postman.

This is the day when the clay-sculptor Jon Edgar delivers my bust. He carries it through the tall plants, and here I am in three dimensions, and as I have not known myself before. If only Charles I could have seen his head in the round, what might our history have been!

My question now is, where shall my head be put? Think of the white cat. Think of some sudden movement. Clay heads are as fragile as bone heads. But Jon soon discovers a place from which it can survey the universe safely. After which we drive to Mount Bures for a celebratory fish and chips and beer.

By this time, the sun knows no limits. I tell Jon about the Iron Age folk sleeping beneath our feet, and about the Mount being all of 30 feet high. After lunch, we visit the soaring door-angels at Stoke-by-Nayland; silvery with centuries, they rise to a Virgin that the Reformers could do little about, considering the cost of new doors.

The day becomes hotter and hotter, and the passing cornfields more and more golden. Not a soul about. If you want outsiders, you must go to Ambridge. A church-size combine presses us into the blackberries en passant. Hollyhocks loom. Pigeons play last-across. Irrigation jets play Versailles. “There’s a lot going on,” we tell each other. We mean for an English village in late July. We might even see a man at work.

Trinity 6, and we are to remember a holy family who fed and lodged the Lord as he walked the rough roads in the heat. Two sisters and their brother remain the founders of Christian hospitality. George Herbert would find Jesus at the “ordinary” table in the inn. I can remember the “farmers’ ordinary” in a small Suffolk town when I was a boy. It was kept by two sisters, and the farmers walked across from the corn exchange on market day to eat roast beef, whatever the temperature. None of your silly salads.

Plaster labourers lolled against plaster sheaves above the corn exchange in attitudes of what the Book of Common Prayer calls “plenty”. The corn exchange is now the public library, but still they loll in the full sun, sickles at the ready. The mere ghost of agriculture haunts our country towns, and heatwaves seem to draw it out. What shall we sing at matins? “With prosperous times our cities crown, Our fields with plenteousness.”

RichardB on August 8th, 2014

Ronald Blythe always wanted to be alone – and now, in a way, he is

WHEN, giving a hostage to fortune, I recklessly announce that I do not take holidays, meaning that I don’t have a fortnight in Spain, or Felixstowe, the reply is: “But your life is all holiday!” So much for the years at the desk.

This country was all holy days until the Reformation, after which you were lucky to get time off for Christmas. Bank Holidays began in 1871, when banks were closed for one day a year. In Thomas Hardy’s novels, you got a day off only if some minor mishap – a whitlow on your finger – prevented your working – although, in the old half-dreaming, hard-working countryside, skiving was an honourable art.

As a boy, I would vanish into the long grass, so to speak, to read and escape jobs. As country children, we had our jobs, and mine included milking goats, running errands, and looking after small brothers. I longed to be alone, like Greta Garbo. And now I am – alone with three parishes.

Their wants are part of my happiness, something that puzzles my friends. I have long stopped worrying about repeating myself when I talk to them Sunday after Sunday. Sometimes I read to them, sometimes I teach them. The lesson-readers take such trouble. I could listen to some of them by the hour.

It is Isaiah now, peerless prophet. And a lengthy one, thank goodness. He flourished, as they say, in the eighth century BC. And what a writer! His wonderful book begins with human desolation, and ends with the new heavens and the new earth. His God tells him: “Be glad, and rejoice for ever in my creation.”

“I know I should be happy, if in the world I stay,” we sang in Sunday school. Not, of course, on the News, which is as unhappy as journalists can make it: a sad entertainment on the hour. But human nature’s balancing propensities defeat such expert gloom, certainly when the sun shines as it does at this moment, hotting up the roof tiles, and driving the white cat under the sheltering leaves.

I am re-reading Virginia Woolf’s The Waves. “The sun struck straight upon the house, making the white walls glare between the dark windows. Their panes, woven thickly with green branches, held circles of impenetrable darkness.

“Sharp wedges of light lay upon the window sill and showed inside the room plates with blue rims, cups with curved handles, the bulge of a great bowl, the criss-cross pattern in the rug, and the formidable corners and lines of cabinets and bookcases.” Just as now, this minute. Nothing need be changed in the description. The virtue of such writing is to show us all over again the beauty of the ordinary, the commonplace.

Washing dries between two plum trees. The postman rattles down the stony track. But fewer walkers than in days gone by. It has been a public road since Alfred the Great or John Bottengomes, c.1375. It tilts towards the River Stour, with pastures on one side and crops on the other. I know its every flint. They shine in the July sun, just as they do in the spring rain.

The summer birds sing, but I am bad on birdsong, try as I might to identify it. “But that’s a goldcrest,” the old friend tells me, although it will merge into “birdsong” the minute she leaves.

The Old Testament is terrible on natural history. I learnt some of mine reading the Palestinian information at the back of my Bible during sermons. This when I was a child. I am all attention now, of course. But the summer does make one drift off. It is partly what it is for – meditation.

RichardB on August 8th, 2014

The war to end all wars. That’s what they said. If only.

It was H G Wells who coined that phrase in 1914, and with over 16 million soldiers and civilians killed and a further 20 million injured in the following four years, an end to war would be a fitting memorial to them all. But we know only too well that the Second World War wouldn’t achieve that either, even though a great freedom did result. And Nixon famously said “I do not tell you that Vietnam will be the war to end all wars”. Experience has proved that a war in one part of the world cannot prevent wars everywhere.

Worse than that – wars have changed, and not just because of modern weaponry. We now face hidden foes and insurrections, and our daily security depends on effective reaction to the latest threat.

Will there always be wars? I’m afraid we can assume so, until the end of the world. The Bible describes in great detail the battles that took place in the near east 4,000 years ago; 3,000 years ago; 2,000 years ago – and Jesus promised that there would be more (Matthew 24:6); yet in Isaiah 2:4, we read that in faithfulness to God’s command, people would bring such peace between nations that they would beat their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks; neither would they train for war any more. Every time we hear of wars, we must surely pray that there will be good people who will have the skill and spirit to achieve that, as many have already done.

On Monday 4th August, the world will remember the 100th anniversary of the start of the Great War. Our Churches will be open, as usual – and this may be a day when we may wish to spend a short while in the Church, in prayer and meditation. To close the day, there will be a Service of Commemoration in St. Andrew’s Wormingford at 7 p.m.

Jesus was born into an occupied nation – a sign to us that change happens from the inside. May there be agents for peace in every nation and every faction; may leaders change from the inside too, with a change of heart; and may that change start with us, as we seek to be agents of peace wherever the Lord has placed us.

Yours in Jesus

John

Services for Sunday 27 July 2014

Mount Bures (MB), Wormingford (WF), Little Horkesley (LH), #1662 service

08:00 Holy Communion  # WF

09:15 Family Communion  MB

11:00 Parish Communion  LH

11:00 Morning Service  WF

18:30 Evening Service  LH

Services for Next Week (3 August)

Mount Bures (MB), Wormingford (WF), Little Horkesley (LH), # 1662 service

08:00 Holy Communion  # LH

09:15 Family Service  MB

11:00 Family Service  WF

11:00 Morning Service  LH

18:30 Evening Service  LH

Monday 4 August

19:00  WW1 Outbreak Centenary: Benefice Service of Commemoration  WF

Your coming in and going out

Look to the Lord and his strength

Seek his face always

(Psalm 105)

 

Readings for Sunday 27 July

Romans 8:26-end  & Matthew 13:31-33;44-52 (WF, MB, LH 11)

Song of Solomon 2  &  1 Peter 4:7-14 (WF 11:00)

1 Kings 3:5-12  &  Matthew 13:31-33;44-52 (LH 18:30)

Please pray for

Neighbouring Parishes – Bures St. Mary, with their new Priest-in-Charge Steve Morley; West Bergholt, Great Horkesley, Boxted & Langham where Mandy Elmes will be Licensed this Tuesday, and Myland where Rosie Tallowin prepares to leave for Harwich.

For the healing and wellbeing of Tony Clements, Dianne Gant, Hugh Houston & Hector Barr.

Commemoration of the Outbreak of the Great War

In early August, the World will pause to remember the outbreak of World War 1. This will be the theme of some of the services in the Benefice next Sunday, 3 August, including Family Services in Mount Bures and Wormingford – and the following week in Little Horkesley. Monday 4 August is the centenary of the outbreak of the War, and people are encouraged to come into our open Churches for prayer and reflection. At 7 p.m., there will be a Benefice Service of Commemoration in Wormingford.

 

Mount Bures Family Fun Day at Hammonds Farm

Sunday 17 August, noon – 4pm at Hammonds Farm, Hemps Green, Fordham CO6 3LS. Lots of activities are planned for all ages, including a BBQ, games and stalls, with a tractor and animals thrown into the mix! Email emma@hammondsfarm.com if you plan to go.

Three Churches Discovery Walk 20 September

Publicity is now out for the walk on Saturday 20 September.  Please distribute leaflets and posters widely, and remember to book in yourself! There will be something for everyone to do, whether walking, marshalling, refreshments or Church manning etc.

Future Events – Friends of St. Andrew’s Wormingford

12-14 September: Art Exhibition at St. Andrew’s

10 October (7 p.m.): Film Evening ‘Constable Observed (Ronnie Blythe 1970)’ WF Village Hall.

RichardB on July 25th, 2014

Ronald Blythe delights in seeing a scythe used to cut the orchard grass

SULTRY July days. Twin calendars rule them: the lectionary, and a writer’s. Thus our trip to Helpston, the birthplace of the great rural poet John Clare. It is exactly as we left it last year, except that a strange additional memorial rises over his grave. Dear once-a-year friends walk along the broad village street, with its handsome Barnack stone houses and towering hollyhocks.

Ringing the changes, my lecture is on Thomas Hardy, whose hands did not touch the soil; and Clare, whose hands drove the plough. Their days slightly overlapped – had they heard of each other? Neither could really operate, as it were, outside their own country-side. In their time, the “peasant” would become a “farm labourer”, and the bottom of the rural population.

And towards the end of the 19th century the British countryside would fall into a depression that would last until the opening of the Second World War, when food needs, and today’s non-traditional farming methods, would rescue it from decline.

I looked up Clare’s activities in July from his wonderfully useful The Shepherd’s Calendar. So far as I can tell, virtually nothing happens in Wormingford in July. You might have to squeeze past a hay lorry whose dizzy oblong load totters ahead, and whose driver waves his sunburnt hand. No women semi-dressed in the hay-making fields which so tantalised the young poet. What work does he list for July? Well, mostly anything which meant using a scythe.

I keep my scythe in cutting order with a whet-stone. I bought it in Stowmarket a long time ago, and I am enchanted this moment to see Adrian wielding it in the orchard. Softly, it lays the summer growth down in rhythmic folds. Greengages will tumble down on to them without bruising. You have to beat the birds where there are greengages. A week late, and they will be the debris of a feast.

Clare’s July village is noisy with “singing, shouting herding boys”, and bagpipes, as young Scots tramp down the Great North Road to seek their fortunes in London. Our car makes its journey through ancient lanes and motorways to the church at Helpston, where I sit on the chancel step to talk on England‘s most eloquent village voice, and a prolific one, so that the John Clare Society need never run out of subjects.

We come home to matins and evensong in two different churches, and to the lasting heatwave. Now, with the house empty, and the white cat thanking her god for summer’s torpor as she sleeps in the window ledge above what was the copper, I get back to routine, breaking into it now and then to pull up some giant weed. By farmy most wondrous July achievement this year is the sweet-pea wigwam: a score of bamboo rods that carry the flowers to heaven. A vase of them locked into a room overnight is the best welcome to a July breakfast.

Clare sees “the gardener sprinkling showers from watering cans on drooping flowers” as he tended both wild and cultivated plants behind his cottage. It could have been a statement on his own genius. His natural history was marvellously inclusive. It began when he was a boy, lying low in the summer grass, watching climbing insects; and it ended as the beautiful sane region to which he could escape from the “madhouse”.

Services for Sunday 20 July 2014

Mount Bures (MB), Wormingford (WF), Little Horkesley (LH), #1662 service

 09:15 Family Communion  MB

11:00 Family Communion  WF

11:00 Morning Service  LH

18:30 Evening Service & Communion  LH

Services for Next Week (27 July)

Mount Bures (MB), Wormingford (WF), Little Horkesley (LH), # 1662 service

 08:00 Holy Communion  # WF

09:15 Family Communion  MB

11:00 Parish Communion  LH

11:00 Morning Service  WF

18:30 Evening Service  LH

Your coming in and going out

 Those who are led by the spirit of God

Are sons of God

 (Romans 8:12-25)

 

 Readings for Sunday 20 July

Romans 8:12-25  &  Matthew 13:24-30,36-43 (WF & MB)

Deuteronomy 30:1-10  &  1 Peter 3:8-18 (LH 11:00)

Isaiah 44:6-8  &  Matthew 13:24-30,36-43 (LH 18:30)

Please pray for

Our neighbouring Parishes – for Revd. Steve Morley, to be licensed in Bures St. Mary on 22 July; Revd. Mandy Elmes, to be licensed to the Parishes of West Bergholt & Great Horkesley with Langham & Boxted on 29 July; and Revd. Rosie Tallowin, who has been appointed Team Vicar in the HarwichPeninsula. Her final Myland service will be on 31 August.

Our Churchwardens and other leaders, as we seek to extend God’s Kingdom in the Parish.

Our friends, Tony Clements, Dianne Gant, Hugh Houston & Hector Barr, their healing and wellbeing.

Mount Bures Fun BBQ

Mount Bures PCC are planning a fun BBQ lunch at Hammonds Farm, Hemps Green, Fordham, CO6 3LS on Sunday 17 August from 12.30 p.m. onwards. There will be a BBQ, drinks, cakes to buy and a raffle, with some traditional farm games (wellie throwing, egg rolling, splat the rat and treasure trail) with a tractor and some animals thrown into the mix!  Please email emma@hammondsfarm.com if you will be going, so she can prepare enough sausages!

Three Churches Discovery Walk 20 September

Publicity will be out next week for the Walk on Saturday 20 September. Mark the date in your diary – there will be something for everyone to do, whether walking, marshalling, refreshments, Church manning etc. Please promote the event in the Village!

Future Events – Friends of St. Andrew’s Wormingford

12-14 September: Art Exhibition at St. Andrew’s

10 October (7 p.m.): Film Evening ‘Constable Observed (Ronnie Blythe 1970)’ WF Village Hall.

RichardB on July 18th, 2014

Ronald Blythe visits the home village of one of England’s greatest poets

 

OFF to Helpston for the 32nd time. For John Clare, its native voice, the first Sunday in July was the Helpston feast: “Wrestling and fighting, the ploughman’s fame is still kept up with the usual determined spirit.” Like his contemporary, William Hazlitt, another quiet man, Clare accepts violence in the village. He walks away from it, and into his intellectual world.

“Saw a bird that was an entire stranger to me about the size and shape of a green linnet, and with wings of a brown-grey colour, the crown of the head a deep black that extended downwards no further than the eyes. Went to see Artis [his archaeologist friend] who tried to look it up in his bird book. It was an unnoticed species of the linnet tribe.”

Clare was all too noticed for his own peace of mind. A ploughman who wrote poetry? People came to look at him in the fields. He tried to hide – an impossibility in a 19th-century village. And now we continue to look at him from all angles.

I read him yet again, before Alan and I set off for what is now the Cambridgeshire border, early in the morning. And there it is, the walled park that cost a pound a yard, the Clare Society, his birthplace next to the pub where he worked, the pleasures of repetition. Although not too much in my presidential address.

The white cat sees us off. For her, the top of the farmtrack is Ultima Thule. Only once in a dozen years did I find her up it, and had to call her back to her own two acres. Meriel the organist is taking her cat miles away, and is dreading it. But long ago some Suffolk friends drove their cat, Holly, to Cornwall, and suffered more than he did. Neither did he recognise me when I arrived, having become Cornish at once.

Today, reading in the study, I watch the horses out of the corner of my eye. One wears a white mask against the flies, the other makes do with her tail. There they stand, deep in horse talk, which is silent.

I have allowed the Himalayan Balsam to riot. It has explosive seeds. Touch their capsule, and they’re off. A small child was more disconcerted than amused when invited to do this. Pretty flowers were not supposed to end their lives with such power. The gardener brushing against them with the mower is peppered with seed shot.

What do I say in church in early Trinity? Something I haven’t said before, if possible. Shall I read Francis Kilvert? What was he doing on a Victorian July day? He died so young – 39 – and a week after his wedding. His coffin was carried beneath the bridal arch.

William Plomer, the South African poet, published some of his diary in 1939. Amid all the parish duties, there is a longing for girls. It also contains one of my favourite clerical anecdotes.

The curate took his candidate for confirmation when the bishop arrived. They were both youthful and nervous.

“Stand up!” the bishop cried.

“But I am the curate, my Lord.”

“Stand up!” the bishop cried.

So the curate was confirmed.

This was on the Welsh border, you understand.

RichardB on July 18th, 2014

In a graveyard, Ronald Blythe sees old friends coming up the path

 

CONSIDERING that the majority of churchyards witness to 1000 years of tears, it is strange that they are so pleasant to visit, to wander in, to sit in on a summer’s day. “Peaceful”, the visitors book says over and over again. Peaceful inside and out. “Do you remember when we threw a tablecloth over that table-tomb and had lunch?”, I remind the lady doing the altar flowers.

The sky between the horse-chestnuts is enamelled blue. Opaque. Unseen birds call. Mown or unmown, the English churchyards are green and lively. Georgian gravestones totter, Victorian memorials soar, today’s slivers of slate don’t know what to say. Albert “Bert” in brackets. Rarely a biblical word.

I see them still coming up the path, the old ringers, the previous congregations. “So you’ve mended the wall!” It loomed out into the lane, and had done so for donkey’s years. “It’s the dead having a stretch.” An undefeated spring runs below it, freezing in the winter; so that we slip and slide to our cars.

But not now. It is high summer, the heat fanned by soft winds. Early Trinity, and we are to be clothed with humility. And then comes the scary bit from St Peter, “because your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about seeking whom he may devour. . .” But the bees swimming in my balsam remind me of the poor dead lion on the treacle tin whose gaping carcase has turned into a honey-pot.

Neighbours move away. We say goodbye in the hospitable house. Already there are gaps where familiar things had stood. “Oh, but we will often be back – you’ll see.” But they won’t. Their time with us has ended. They walk round the big room, taking photographs. But the marks on the walls where the pictures have been say everything.

I talk to a gentle, ill man, coming closer to hear his whispering words. Yet there is happiness rather than sadness. A kind of acceptance for things as they are. St Peter, whose week it is, asks God to make us perfect, and to “stablish, strengthen, and settle us”. But it is unsettling when old friends move away. I mean, where will we go for Christmas-morning drinks? Have they thought of that?

Some have gone to Scotland, and there will be postcards from the white house above the loch to prove it. I see them opening the deer-gates to let the car through, and me waking up in the rare Highlandair, and then driving to Ben Lyon.

Perhaps the young shepherd will bring his flock down from the hill, or the Edinburgh minister will be doing holiday duty at the kirk. The shelves of Scottish history will certainly be toppling in the drawing-room. Half a mile from the house, they will encounter Queen Victoria and Mr Brown having a picnic.

Perthshire amazes me – its scent, its indifference to human needs, its vast parishes, its blue ranges which should not have been clothed with pine forests, its stern nobility. Will the pine-marten run along the wall? For we all like to think that the places which have become ours for a week or two possess a perpetuity for us alone.

The white cat has never been to the top of the track. “Tell me what it is like up there.” Dangerous: bends, haywains with bales, sabbath cyclists, congregations going home, dogs getting lost. She has made her summer bed in the vast stone sink which once stood in the farm kitchen. There she sleeps her nine lives away.

Services for Sunday 13 July 2014

Mount Bures (MB), Wormingford (WF), Little Horkesley (LH), #1662 service

 08:00 Holy Communion  # WF

09:15 Parish Communion  MB

11:00 Family Service  LH

11:00 Morning Service  WF

18:30 Evening Service  LH

Services for Next Week (20 July)

Mount Bures (MB), Wormingford (WF), Little Horkesley (LH), # 1662 service

 09:15 Family Communion  MB

11:00 Family Communion  WF

11:00 Morning Service  LH

18:30 Evening Service & Communion  LH

Your coming in and going out

 Your word is a lamp to my feet

And a light for my path

 (Psalm 119)

 

Readings for Sunday 13 July

Romans 8:1-11 & Matthew 13:1-9,18-23 (WF 8:00, MB & LH 18:30)

Deuteronomy 28:1-14  &  Acts 28:17-end (WF 11:00)

Colossians 3:1-4, 12-17  &  Matthew 11:25-30 (LH 11:00)

Please pray for

Our neighbouring Parishes – for Revd. Steve Morley, who will be licensed in Bures St. Mary on 22nd July, and Revd. Mandy Elmes, to be licensed to the Parishes of West Bergholt and Great Horkesley with Langham and Boxted on 29th July.

 The young people of our Parishes, as they leave school for the summer; especially those changing schools, going to University or out into the world.

 Those who will not be able to take a holiday this year, for one of many reasons.

 Pray especially for our friends, Tony Clements, Dianne Gant, Hugh Houston and Hector Barr.

Parochial Church Council (PCC) Meetings

There are two PCC meetings this week: Mount Bures, Tuesday 15 July, in the Thatcher’s at 7:30 p.m. (or 6 p.m. if eating first); Little Horkesley, Wednesday 16 July at 7:30 p.m. at Holt’s. Please pray for the PCC members of all three Parishes, that our worship and our work may be led wisely and well.

Three Churches Discovery Walk 20 September

There will be a ‘Three Churches Discovery Walk’ on 20 September. Publicity will be out soon. Please ensure the day is marked out in your diary, and encourage others to walk with us!

Friends of St. Andrew’s Wormingford

The AGM of the ‘Friends’ will take place on Tuesday 15 July at 7 p.m., at Garnons Farm. Future events:

12-14 September: Art Exhibition at St. Andrew’s

10 October (7 p.m.): Film Evening ‘Constable Observed (Ronnie Blythe 1970)’ WF Village Hall.

More Information

To volunteer to help with running your church, or for more information about anything in this Bulletin contact your Churchwardens or Deputies, or see your parish websites:

 www.wormingford.com, www.littlehorkesley.com or www.mountbures.com

 Items for inclusion next week by Thursday please to John or Churchwardens.