Worship at the Cowes regatta service.
THE VIEW FROM HERETHE Church of England has a huge amount of "C and E" (Christmas and Easter) worshippers. They believe their biannual visits to church constitute sufficient contact with God to obviate any unpleasant questioning when they reach the pearly gates, not to mention being useful when filling in the application form for a church school.
Regular worshippers? Certainly. Regular as clockwork, Christmas and Easter, thank you so much, vicar, if you’d just countersign here, that would be lovely.
But it’s quite a long haul from Easter to Christmas and some C&E members occasionally look for a non-threatening service to fill the gap.
If they’re on the Island, they need look no longer. The annual regatta service, held at the beginning of Cowes Week, fits the bill perfectly.
This year’s service, at Holy Trinity Church, Cowes, was, as always, a triumph of no-nonsense brevity, complete with hymns that everyone knew (a pre-requisite for C&E members), the national anthem, a few lessons read in nice loud voices by decent sort of chaps, a mercifully short sermon about anchors, prayers that summarised without waffle an agenda for the Almighty (look after the royal family, that sort of thing), a final blessing and that’s it until everybody reconvenes in December for Once in Royal David’s City.
No confusing ritual and certainly no shaking hands with your neighbour. Couldn’t be better.
The Royal Yacht Squadron members, who are not the types to go for either evangelical or Catholic excess, filed out murmuring their approval. They thought the whole thing was frightfully good form, plus it reminded them of their public schools.
The regatta service is perfect for studying form and, following my recent forays into the great brass button debate, I was on the lookout to see whether there would be any clues among the congregation as to whether these accessories are a sartorial no-no during Cowes Week.
Scarcely a brass button to be seen, I thought, certainly not among the Squadron members. That seemed to settle the matter.
But wait!
Who was this stepping proudly down the aisle in the council procession, his blazer positively shimmering with metallic glory?
It was Cllr Roger Mazillius, clearly the very essence of brass button bravura.
I make no comment. I merely observe.
An illuminating look at art set for Blackpool
Stephen Dickins recently delivered a cutting polemic in the CP’s letters page about the "hideous, man-made black blob that sways on the skyline above Ashey".
According to our correspondent, it blights one of the Island’s loveliest landscapes and can be seen from Portsmouth.
"It seems to have been there for quite some time."
Well, yes, it has. It’s been in Mark and Jo Downer’s garden since last November and there are all sorts of rumours about the 35-metre thingy.
Somebody told me it was gathering secret information and was linked to Bletchley. Others say it measures climate changes and quite a few described it in language that I couldn’t possibly repeat.
But it seems it’s actually an art installation, created by the Downers’ company, AM Structures. It has been tested as a prototype and, if successful, there’ll be a whole row of them along Blackpool front.
I have good news and bad news for Mr Dickins. The good news is it received a temporary six-month planning permission in February, which will end on August 31. The council says it will insist on its removal on that day.
The bad news is Mr Downer seems very casual about it. He’s not a huge fan of the council.
"I can’t say when it’ll come down. Probably later in September," he says airily. Really? You don’t sound too concerned, Mark.
"No, I don’t really care," he replies.
Coo. Mark’s got a 35-metre pole loaded at the top with water-ballast, the council has got a piece of paper telling him to take it down and he doesn’t give a fig. Could be interesting.