Fairtrade bananas, a vicar and a poem...

We've been treated to some of the most beautiful autumn skies I have ever seen, day and night.
As I ran with my eyes fixed on the enchanting moon, I  barely missed lamp posts, confused new students finding their way around Treforest (home of the University of Glamorgan) and dog-walkers.

Last Thursday I spent an hour at church, listening to cringe-worthy harvest songs sung by children innocently and naively thanking God for conkers, bananas and parents. The vicar was a rather bemusing character, ultra-camp, I think panto was his true calling. 

I pulled a chair to sit near two mums and chat before the service began, I didn't have much to say, but they invited me and I had been feeling rather 'Billy no mates' sitting alone at the end of a row of 20 empty chairs. The vicar insisted I was a fire hazard and made me return to my original seat, with a worse vantage point - I was destined to sit alone.

I'm glad I did sit alone, it was easier to stifle the tidal wade of childish giggles that were ready to flood the church. The vicar  put on a bizarre display using a banana as a prop. The banana became a gun and a mobile phone, "what did you say mummy? Stop playing with my food?"
I was too shocked to react and didn't dare imagine further uses for the phallic prop (really, I didn't).

I looked around the church; stained glass windows all around ensure you don't look out to the sky and the world, a large organ, fire extinguishers everywhere, a giant projector and screen - everything was at odds. Even the churchy feeling I usually get, a sort of  general heightening of my senses, eluded me.
The songs were beautiful in their celebration of nature, but for me, this was spoilt by the suggestion god had carefully and cleverly designed it all.

The vicar showed us a clip promoting the  fairtrade scheme - great,  I love a fairtrade banana and bar of chocolate.
 I wished I could think only about the happy farmers, but I thought of the child labour, the starving AIDS-ravaged families, the helplessness.  I almost envied the vicar's faith as I looked at the plump, comfortably clothed school children who have more pencils in one drawer than a whole village in parts of Africa, a sense of intense guilt washed over me because I am always moaning about the price of food.

Babies and toddlers became restless, I started to focus on the vicar's sharp intakes of breath before each sentence, anything to detract from the tedium - my concentration span is incredibly poor.
Light flooded in through the red robe of whichever saint adorned the east facing window, occasionally painting the vicar's face a devil-red.
A pile of tinned food for the local hungry people looked sterile and inappropriate in a church, I felt it should look like an offering to the gods, all laid out with doilies, candles and incense sticks.
I mouthed the words to All Things bright and Beautiful,  instantly being transported back to primary school, the smell of the woodblock floor, damp walls and rancid farts.
The teachers looked at their watches, probably planning their coffee breaks and willing the vicar to wrap up the service, the pupils started to shuffle and giggle. Carrier bags started to rustle, I wonder when carrier bags will be something we remember from years ago, like fags being smoked on a bus.

The vicar allowed the headmaster to take centre stage, he too thinks he's a funny guy, he read a Roger Mc Gough poem and grinned as if he was hearing it for the first time.

The vicar thanks us for coming, the church quickly empties.
As I was about to leave he came over to apologise for embarrassing me regarding the fire-hazard saga. I tell him he made up for that with his banana routine.
The vicar tells me the children love his banana routine, I can hold on to the tidal wave of guffaws no more.

Just Another Autumn Day - Roger McGough

In Parliament, the Minister for Mists
and Mellow Fruitfulness announces,
that owing to inflation and rising costs
there will be no Autumn next year.
September, October and November
are to be cancelled,
and the Government to bring in
the nine-month year instead.
Thus we will all live longer.

Emergency measures are to be introduced
to combat outbreaks of well-being
and feelings of elation inspired by the season.
Breathtaking sunsets will be restricted
to alternate Fridays, and gentle dusks
prohibited. Fallen leaves will be outlawed,
and persons found in possession of conkers,
imprisoned without trial.
Thus we will all work harder.

The announcement caused little reaction.
People either way don't really care
No time have they to stand and stare
Looking for work or slaving away
Just another Autumn day.

Roger McGough