High Church

One Saturday afternoon I was driving through rural Cheshire looking for a churchyard. When I arrived at a handsome church a wedding had just finished and a throng of people were outside the church doors being photographed with the doomed couple. In my scruffy stained attire I thought it wise to hang back for a while and not ruin any photos. When things were coming to end I slipped into the church. As I did the lady vicar (a vicarette?) who had done the joining appeared. I overheard her say something to someone: "It's a good job I'm only high church at Christmas. Some others wouldn't have allowed that." I'm not sure what she was referring to.

Mmm...I'd heard "high church" before and had to look it up. It pretty much means rigidly adhering to the rules, rituals, sacraments and obedience to church authority. Not slackening of the rules - no silly messages on soles of groom's shoes, dogs running down the aisle delivering rings, back flips, Harry Potter-themed clothes, etc.

I never forgot the vicar's words which compelled this painting - a high church - so high it doesn't fit into the small canvas. It was blasted off in about twenty minutes while watching television. Those vertical blobs in the foreground are graves, the horizontal ones are steps. Progress was so fast I didn't take any photos. It's yours for £8,224 but I can do a 10% discount as I've dipped Mint Imperial in a frothy coffee and feel good.