Sneaky sneaky sibling
The church in the village where I was spawned and raised is very old. As in 12th century old. There's an underground passageway from the vestry to the equally old pub about 200 metres away, suggesting that those Anglo-Saxons had their priorities right.

It's a beautiful little building, all white walls and ancient wooden beams, that has lots of happy memories (perhaps unusual this week) from my brother's christening when he set fire to my mum's hair, to that Christingle thing where you get free dolly mixtures, to various other primary school shenanigans, and later, weddings of people I actually like. My dad's involved with the place in a practical fashion - he digs the graves and mows the churchyard. I know what you're thinking, but he is in fact a very cheery and non-morbid soul.

This story is about my brother, though. The only time we go to church is for midnight mass on Christmas Eve, as it's quite a social gathering with various aunties and uncles and those other few people our age who managed to escape the village coming back home for the holidays.

Over many years, a game has evolved in which participants - ie these returning prodigal children - all sit in one pew, and try to cause each other as much pain as possible during the service. This is to be done and received in silence. Tactics include - stepping heavily on people's feet, pinching, scratching, vicious poking, Chinese burning and so on all. All very Christian, and the rule is that the people sitting behind shouldn't be able to notice.

Hymn-singing provides some respite from having to suffer in complete silence. Participants should really take care to watch their timing, however, as last year, the sonorous organ chords of the end of 'Hark the Herald Angels Sing' cut short just as my brother let fly with a piercing 'OWW, FOR FUCKS' SAKE!', causing every single person in the church to turn and glare daggers at us.

And that's all for today.
(jennymnemonic, Fri 2 Sep 2011, 11:00, Reply)