...the baptism of a small great-niece. Some fine singing - led by one of the baby's young uncles - a former chorister of Westminster Cathedral - who sang the psalm as the parents and godparents walked in procession from the church door where they had signed the child with the Sign of the Cross... the whole ceremony was the more touching and memorable because the celebrant was the baby's own grandfather, a Deacon.... there were readings and a fine chanted Litany of the Saints...at the font small cousins gathered around to watch as the water was poured, and the baby anointed and so on, and then later we all joined in the prayers...
And then on to a family party, with pink balloons decorating a gazebo in the sunny garden, and a magnificent array of cakes, and champagne, and lots of happy talk, and children running about, and dogs, and the baby being cuddled by grandparents and aunts...
Later, much later, I caught the train home after a gentle wander around the beautiful town with its houses in mellow Cotsworld stone, and its big War Memorial in a l;ittle riverside park, and its fine old bridge with fragments of an ancient chapel...as the train headed towards London, the sun was setting over the land we call England, a great flood of crimson and pink staining the sky, and not fading until finally the dusk deepened into darkness. And now there is a new Christian to inherit it all, and she will be part of the new adventures of this new century.
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