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Holy Communion was just fine but we were not expecting Ron's sermon nor his accordion

By Jeremy Clarke   November 1998

This morning we had a combined Holy Communion and Harvest Thanksgiving service in the sitting room of our residential home for the elderly. Seven of our ladies were communicating, plus myself. The ladies had all had their perms reinflated the night before. Collectively, as we waited for the vicar to arrive, we reminded me of a candy floss stall.

Because of the rationalisation-if that’s the word-of the Church of England, Ron, our vicar, now runs three country parish churches single-handedly. When he bounded into the room at one minute past eleven, his sparse hair had come unfurled from his shiny…

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