Extract from Cybersenior.4.11(#22) - by Permission

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contents

CONTENTS Volume 4, Number 11, October 1999 (#22)

Over Over or Under? That is the Question by David Baynton (Cloggy Dave) Over and Under this is the question. Cloggy Dave gives us a lively account of travel through the channel tunnel to England. No more does one have to travel by ferry if one chooses the comfortable and reasonable alternative by train. "Making Do" (Part 2) by Glen L. Keener This is the second part of Glen's reminiscences of growing up in a time where a pioneering spirit was a needed adjunct to get by. Reading his account one realizes what life was like in the days of the depression. From the Diary of a Midshipman by John Reid-Henry John Reid-Henry, was a seventeen year old Midshipman when he wrote this diary. His contribution to the review consists of an excerpt of same.   It takes us into the time of W.W.II and his service on the destroyer H.M.S Acheron Man Proposes ... by John  Richardson Who amongst us hasn't had the honor to be chosen as a god parent? John Richardson is sending us a lively account, with a happy ending of a baptism with a difference. It is a tale full of trials and tribulations where Veronica and John himself were chosen as god parents at a baptism they wont ever forget.   Using a Web Page Editor (Part 2) by Tom Bruce Using a Web Page Editor is the second part of Tom's very informative account on web page design. This article provides the budding web page designer with detailed instructions on how to achieve success.

 

Man proposes ... by John Richardson

"WE WELCOME INTO THE CHURCH through Baptism Kabvizya Rakim Wright-Zulu, Ruairi Eugene Martin and Madeleine Louise Chadwick all of whom were baptised last weekend."

This small entry was the public announcement of an event in which we had got ourselves involved.  This entry, missing out "Isaiah" from Kabvizya's names was typical of the whole event.

Veronica says it is all my fault, for being too quick to chat to all and sundry that I meet.  I am not going to go into all the details of how it came about, but suffice to say that we number among our friends, Lucy, a lady, originally from Zambia, now resident in Cambridge.  Through her, we have met with a number of her relatives, residents of various locations in the UK and Africa, the youngest of these being Kabvizya.  Our first involvement with the family was in February, at a birthday party for one of the daughters who shares a birth date with my mother-in-law (RIP), and one of our foster children from years ago, now resident in Vienna.

Now, although our friend Lucy is called Kabvizya's grandmother, the relationship is not quite as simple as that.   Kabvizya's mother, Sophie, is adopted by Lucy, but biologically, she is Lucy's niece, being the daughter of Lucy's sister Monica.  Also, although Lucy is a 'cradle Catholic', Sophie is not, and so the baby had not been baptised.

Among Sophie's friends, there were a couple of sisters from another family.  All three young women had had babies about the same time. The other two young mothers (also cradle Catholics) and Sophie decided that their children should all be baptised together, and Sophie herself started in classes to be received into the Church. 

The baptism of the children was set to be, in our Catholic Parish Church, dedicated to St. Philip Howard, with the date of Sophie's baptism set to coincide with the planned visit of our Bishop in October.  These plans were approved by Mgr. Eugène Harkness, our Parish Priest, who then departed on holiday, with a return date of Friday, August 20.

Meanwhile, Veronica and I were selected to be godparents to Kabvizya.  In vain did I protest that the young man would need his godparents around for longer than we could guarantee to stay, in view of our ages - we were asked formally, and could not really refuse such an honour.  All was set for Sunday afternoon, August 22.  Veronica, of course, complained that she had nothing to wear for the ceremony, so we made an expedition to buy something suitable.  The usual store which stocks sizes suitable for her had something she liked, but not in the right size.  They have another branch elsewhere in Cambridge, and telephoned to check that the same item was available at the other store in the right size, so we drove there to buy it.

"The best laid plans of mice and men..."

The triple baptism was not to be.  The other mothers altered their plans, and Kabvizya was to be baptised on his own.  Under these circumstances, it was more convenient for him to be baptised on the previous day, at the vigil Mass on Saturday evening, the 21st August if possible in the village church in Fulbourn, a church dating back to pre-Reformation days, but currently Anglican.

However, by this time, Mgr. Eugène was on vacation in Sardinia, and we were talking about how to alter his diary as the baptism would be for the day after his return!

Modern technology to the rescue - he answered an email, with instructions that it was OK by him, but that someone had to liaise with the Anglican Rector of St. Vigor's in Fulbourn, to get his permission.  As a resident of the village of Fulbourn, this fell to my lot, and I duly telephoned the man, who was happy that Catholic Baptisms were taking place in his church, and gave detailed instructions about preparation of the font, which duty, he assured me, lay with the parents or any other family member of the child being baptised.

The new plans were laid, and all should be plain sailing again.

Wrong.

Even the travel did not go according to plan.  Mgr. Eugène was supposed to return to London (Stansted) airport in time to get back to the presbytery, lunch with the Polish priest who had been standing in for him, then drive him to Stansted to catch his flight home.  I had been warned, and was on standby, lest Mgr. Eugène was delayed, to take time out from the Catflap, a thrift shop were Veronica and I work as volunteers, and take the Polish priest to the airport.  Under these circumstances, Mgr. Eugène was to collect Veronica after the shop was closed, and take her home.

During the afternoon, a panicking Polish priest telephoned the thrift shop, and I set off with him to the airport.  We had got a few miles, before he remembered his wallet was on the table in the kitchen of the presbytery - nothing could be done about it as the keys had been posted through the letterbox as we left.  Luckily he had his credit cards, some money, and his passport and tickets.  I stopped to call the thrift shop on my way home, to find out the situation about Mgr. Eugène, especially as Veronica had come out without her house keys, so I had left her mine.  This, of course, was my fault as well - I had failed to warn her of the standby travel plans of the clergy. Mgr. Eugène had been in touch - his ETA ( Estimated Time of Arrival) at the thrift shop was later than mine, and by now we could not contact him, so I joined Veronica at the shop to await his arrival.

Just when it seemed that finally, everything would be fine, Veronica had been informed that the baby had chicken pox - but the doctor assured everyone that by this stage of the disease (spots coming out) there was no risk of passing it on.  Mgr. Eugène arrived at the shop, and we decided that the chicken pox should not be enough to stop the ceremony, especially as people are coming from as far away as Germany for the event.  He also asked about the child's names.  At this stage the 'Isaiah' had not been included, and Mgr. said that maybe there might be an extra 'Joseph' added, but he would have a word with Lucy about it.

All must be properly organised by now, or so you might have thought.

Veronica had been worried about the walk from the nearest point a car could be got to the church, but did not want to be the godmother in a wheelchair.  She thought she could get by, as the font was at the  back of the church, near the entrance, so by staying near the font, she could keep the distance she had to walk to a minimum.  As we were invited to a party afterwards, Lucy was to collect us from our house, and after the ceremony, take us back to hers, where the party was to be, with arrangements for the final trip home still a little fluid - either taxi, or by someone sober enough to drive.

Veronica took a good dose of painkillers, so as to be able to stand when required by the ceremony.  We were dressed and ready for Lucy at the appointed time of 1730 - but - no Lucy.  Finally she arrived at 1750, with her sister Monica and the baby, but no Sophie.  She had been trying to call us - it was just the weekend that our telephone stopped ringing (a fault we had experienced before, but thought British Telecom had fixed it).  Sophie had been having her hair braided, and this had taken longer than expected, so she was to be brought by Lucy's younger daughter, Caroline, who had returned from Germany for the event, the time of which could not be delayed, as it was a public Mass with the normal Saturday evening Mass-goers already present.

I had been worried that we had not done our duty to prepare the font, but in fact, Mgr. Eugène had brought a large bowl from the presbytery, and all was prepared.  The Rector of St. Vigor's had asked Mgr. Eugène why he had brought the bowl, as there was a plug for the font, and plumbing to take the water to the ground beneath the church.  It was not the first Catholic baptism this year, and Mgr. Eugène was well aware that there was a blockage in the plumbing last time he relied on it, and most of the water had flooded out from the base of the font, over the floor of the church, and he was not going to risk it happening again.

The Baptismal Certificate had all been prepared as well - but with the wrong year of birth!  Mgr. Eugène had to do a new one afterwards.

Before Mass, Mgr. Eugène called the parents of the child to bring it to the altar - oops - neither present (the father was not expected, anyway).  So he called the child's grandparents to bring the child, and Lucy went forward.  In deference to Veronica's walking problems, we were allowed to make our responses from the back of the church, near the font.

The introductory part of the Mass proceeded, and Caroline and Sophie arrived just in time for Sophie to hold her son for the actual baptism, and the rest of the church event followed according to plan, other than Veronica being embarrassed at Communion time, by having resorted to an old schoolgirl trick of writing the baby's names on her hand, so as to remember them, and finding they were still written there, when she went up to Communion.

After Mass, we all adjourned to Lucy's house for the party.  Mgr. was invited, so we waited for him to arrive before starting on the meal, although the bottles were opened beforehand.  He was slightly late, having been unsure of the address when he did not see Veronica's Volvo in the street, as he had not realised that we had been provided with transport that meant we could both drink, and still get home safely.

The only damper on the festivities was poor Kabvizya's chicken pox, which made him somewhat grizzly, and his mother was overtired from the task of looking after him during his illness.  When the time came to go home, Caroline was still sober enough to drive, so we did not need a cab.  She was staying clear headed, as she was due to drive to Liverpool the next morning, for a training session before flying to Moscow to be part of the England Squad in a Martial Arts Sports event.  (Just as an aside, England came third in that prestigious event)

The next day, on Sunday, I called in the early afternoon to find out how our godson's spots were, and what sort of a night he had had.  Lucy invited me over to take some of the excess spare ribs from the barbecue, as there were more than she could cope with once everyone had left, so I was excused cooking for a second day.  There was plenty for me to bring home to feed myself, Veronica and our eldest son Peter that evening.

All's well that ends well, they say, but it will be a long time before we forget that baptism.

The End

John Richardson

Originally part of Cybersenior.4.11(#22)

Last updated 30^th August 2004