Here's the church!

And here's 'my' church: Church of St. Mary the Virgin, Marston Magna. I used to think it was ours because it practically sat in our garden. Our family always sat in almost the front 2 rows, well, behind Mrs. Hallett, who had to sit in the very front row. She played the organ very loudly, and often with many errant notes, which caused all my brothers to spurt off in elbow-digging giggles, which in turn initiated a prod from my Mother, which was tricky since she'd be trying very hard to hide her amusement at the whole affair. The boys would sit in front of us, and we girls would sit with the Mater and Pater. I liked to sit next to Mum, but more importantly, I made sure that I'd be sitting directly behind Richard. He was the naughtiest of all the bros, and therefore the most adventurous. When we knelt down to pray, then I'd be able to untie his laces if Mum's eyes were closed. Dad was oblivious to all the shenanigans going on around him, especially during the hymns. He loved to sing, but would often belt out the ancient hymns injecting his own words, thus creating another burst of giggles in the brothers' pew. Vi Chaney and Mrs. Batson would be vying for the top note at all costs...more prods!!
I loved going to church. We'd all dress up in our very best suits and overcoats. Leather gloves, hats and sensible shoes. Prayer books were retrieved from the drawer in the chest in the hall, and off we'd go: across the green, through the gate and up the well-trodden path to the church door, where the vicar would greet us. We'd file down the aisle to our family pews on the left, kneel down to pray for a minute or two, then we'd sit and wait for the opening hymn.
There were always beautiful flowers in the windows, and under the pulpit from whence came the 10-minute sermons, interminable did they seem to the boys in front! No heat at all in our church, in those days, so you had to make sure that you wore your wooly underthings!!