The Bountiful Harvest

It had been some time since we had enjoyed the gracious company of our friends at Dingley Dell, so when the ever hospitable Mr. Wardle invited us to visit, both myself and Sam were keen to oblige. This particular visit would be of special interest because, since it encompassed the coming weekend we would be able to witness the old gentleman, the clergyman of Dingley Dell give one of his highly esteemed and edifying sermons.

No sooner had we arrived at Dingley Dell than our old friend Mr Wardle and his family bestowed upon Sam and myself such enthusiastic handshakes and hails of "helloooo" that we did our utmost to return them in equal measure. Among the gathering was the clergyman who, with beaming red cheeks and glassy eyes took our hands in turn and shook long and vigorously in the most heart warming of welcomes. After each handshake he refilled his sherry glass and toasted us in such a manner as to make us feel quite humbled to be part of the wonderful company present that morning.

Once we were all settled and all the greetings were complete, the old gentleman refilled his sherry glass and stood beside me.

“Its so good to see you again my good friend” he said.

“Why thank you again” I replied and added how eager I was to be present at one of his sermons.

“Your presence will be most gratifying” he said, “but I hope I won't disappoint”

“I could not imagine such a thing” is all I could think to say.

“I can only try to live up to your expectations dear friend, although I have to confess my nerves are not what they used to be. These days a glass of sherry or two before I take to the pulpit is needed to give me that extra bit of courage and to stop the jitters”.

Before I could answer he insisted on fetching himself another glass of sherry to once more toast our friendship and good health, leaving me to contemplate how rare a commodity such acts of consideration towards one's fellow man are in one person.

Mr. Wardle and his family enjoyed the luxury of their own pews in the church of Dingley Dell and fortunately there was enough room for both Sam and myself. The congregation was not as large as I had come to expect since Mr. Wardle's daughters had previously intimated with a lively glint in their eyes that the old gentleman's sermons had to be seen to be believed, and consequently each Sunday they always left the church in such joyous spirits that sometimes they could not help but burst forth into peels of laughter.

Whilst the restless murmurs and coughs of the congregation filled the small church I glimpsed the old gentleman exit the vestry in what appeared to be a rather unsteady fashion, making use of any firm object close by to make his steps more trustworthy. He then with deliberate motions finally managed to step into the pulpit, which throughout the proceedings he clung to firmly, thus giving me some concern for his general well being. There proceeded a few muffled giggles from Mr. Wardle's daughters which I took for anticipation of the good spirits mentioned previously so I smiled knowingly in their direction.

At this point I took out my notepad and pencil ready to jot down the old gentleman's sage words. The topic for today would be, I was informed 'The Bountiful Harvest'. Although my notes were rather hurried, I present to you for your consideration and regard what I believe to be an honest and accurate rendition of the old gentlemen's sermon of that day. Such words you will no doubt conclude can only come from a mind that knows how to imbibe the human spirit with its own deeply felt sentiments, even if on this occasion that spirit showed troubling signs of being in a somewhat poorly disposition.

“My dear congregation. It is most gratifying to see you all this fine Sunday morning, and looking the picture of heavenly devotion.

“Today I would like to use this opportunity to praise what we so easily take for granted, which is the bountiful harvest we are so fortunate to enjoy in these times of plenty.

“Indeed, It was just a few days past that I ventured into one of our local supermarkets and was presented with the most prolific array of the brightest oranges, the most resplendent apples of so many varieties, and  pears that were so perfectly ripe they would temp the most fastidious palate. In fact there were fruits and exotic vegetables of all shapes, sizes and colours from all corners of the globe to delight the senses.

“As I tried my best to make my way around the fruit and vegetable aisles, mingling with the hordes of fellow shoppers, I could not resist stopping now and then to maybe hold a tomato to test its succulence, or perhaps a banana to see how ready it was to eat.  Every shopper had the same idea it seemed, as one after another they'd stretch out their arms to grasp at something, oblivious to each other as their carts jumbled together, blocking the way for the rest of us no matter how patiently we - I waited for them to move out of the way – or I at least tried to be patient. Does anyone heed other shoppers in supermarkets any more or do they think the store exists only for them.....? Go ahead, don't mind me, just barge past and grab those grapes or make a path towards the plums......I'll pretend to be invisible shall I....?

The old gentlemen paused for breath after a few moments of animated speech then took out his handkerchief, and with trembling motions dabbed the beads of perspiration from his brow. My concern for his health thus became all the more pronounced as he displayed such indications of being struck with a feverish ailment.

“Hehehe...ahem....well patience is certainly a virtue in such circumstances......”

After a second or two of silence to collect his thoughts he continued.

“As I moved on to the bakery section that arresting aroma of freshly baked bread which entices us to to buy a still hot crusty loaf filled the air. How could any earthly man resist the simple pleasure of butter melting on warm crusty bread fresh from the oven? If that man could get to the bread that is...why is it that when you want something from a supermarket shelf there is always someone blocking it with their cart? They linger as if transfixed to the spot, not able to make even a simple decision about whether to buy a thick sliced loaf, medium sliced, brown bread, or god forbid work out what to do with a French stick....

“Here's an idea, why not take out your phone and ask someone what bread you should buy, anything is better than thinking for yourself and making that decision on your own isn't it?......'I'm in the supermarket...the supermarket...yes Tesco. I'm picking up a few things. Do we need one loaf of bread or two? Brown Bread? Sliced? Will the kids eat it?'

“How did people manage to get through a visit to the supermarket before the invention of the mobile phone? Go into any supermarket and there'll be one poor sap stultified into inertness at the prospect of deciding what to buy and will get out their phone so someone can walk them step by miniscule step through the mentally exhausting processes of deciding what to buy.

“lets not forget the parents with their kids wailing for their favourite sugar saturated treats to shovel down their chubby little gullets ready to fuel the next burst of maniacal racing every which way whilst screaming at each other, then hailing their parents with  'I want I want I want'. And why not let your offspring run around the aisles on their mini scooter. What fun that is for the little chap, and oh how the rest of us look onwards wondering if we're going to be the one he'll run into then fall to the floor in howls of pain, so you look round as if we've just senselessly beaten your kid to a quivering wreck of tears.

“Oh and of course, the friends who bump into each other whilst shopping and stop to have a nice long chat in the teabags aisle, vacuously using their carts like some kind of police roadblock at the scene of a grisly traffic accident, allowing no one, not one soul to pass by. Thats right, you're the only two people in the entire supermarket, the rest of us are mere phantoms of your imagination, so it doesn't matter in the slightest if we can't move freely towards the PG Tips or Earl Grey before continuing with our dreary lives. Just carry on with your lovely chat. After all, its good to catch up, isn't it?

“If all that excitement isn't quite enough to get the blood pulsing through your veins there's the mind bending thrill of paying for your items. There are now two possibilities. Either the cashier will give you a cheerful 'hello', compelling you against all your instincts to choke down the trolley rage presently consuming your entire being, forcing you instead into the social nicety of bringing a smile to your face and saying a cheery  'hello' in return. The second alternative is that unlike every other customer before you, the cashier mentally assesses you're not worthy of a cheerful 'hello', so setting your teeth grinding ever tighter in barely concealed resentment at such an appalling slight to your good self.

“But before any of those polite smiles and courtesies can take place there's the wait behind the happy shopper ahead who, for some divine reason known to themselves alone only begins to pack away their items when the cashier wants them to pay. What the hell do these people do whilst the cashier is running their things through the till? Do they leave their earthly body and travel to another astral plane in a mind expanding out of body experience? Or perhaps the beauty and elegance of the cashier's motions as he/she gracefully drags each barcode over the reader stultifies them into a reverie of admiration, lost in a moment that can only be described as the postmodernist ballet of the checkout operator.

“And now begins the pitiful quest for the purse. The shopper's hand delves into the bowels of their handbag or pocket as fingers grope their way through discarded bus tickets, long forgotten Wurther Originals and bits of fluff to grasp their prize. Once located that little vault of treasures is tentatively opened for the paper money to be diligently and carefully counted - because we don't want we to make a mistake now do we? The guardian of the purse now resumes the search within its sacred realms to bring forth unto the world each dusty old coin. The owner stoops over to peer into its' labyrinthine passages to extract  each penny one by one to make up the exact tally of their purchases, not one penny less or one penny more. The remnants of your patience now swirls in earthly torment, whilst any moment the words, "GOD ALMIGHTY FROM ABOVE TAKE ME NOW....TAKE ME FUCKING NOW OH LORD!!!" will hail forth from your shattered soul“

At this point the organ player hesitantly started playing, whilst the congregation seemingly all in a state of bewildered agitation, one by one chose their moment to stand and join in a rendition of “All Things Bright And Beautiful”. During the distraction from his reverie a few people who looked experienced in the procedure encouraged the old gentlemen to leave the pulpit by scooping him up by the bend of his elbows and knees with words of vitriol still pouring forth from his lips, mingled with muffled promises that he'd be perfectly fine after a few more glasses of sherry.

Whilst leaving the service my heart filled with sorrow for Mr Wardle's poor daughters. I looked back into the church to see them huddled together, their shoulders convulsing with a vigour that can only be expected from such delicate souls despairing at the sight of the old gentleman in his delirium. As I stood with Sam at my side and saw how at one moment they held each other as if for support, then the next held their ribs whilst bending almost double as if about to burst, it hung heavy upon my countenance to imagine tears flowing down the cheeks of such sensitive young ladies, the result of witnessing the sufferings of the weary old gentleman in the throws of his sickly mania.