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In the early 1960s the Cold War brought the world to the very brink of nuclear annihilation. This was particularly true at the end of October 1962, in a period that became known as the "Cuban Missile Crisis".
In Kildwick, an unfortunate error caused at least one resident to think that war may have broken out. It was my job to look after the clock in the tower; to regularly wind it up and occasionally to tend to it's occasional vagaries. It had been known to strike thirteen on more than one occasion. It was also my responsibility to lay out vestments for the vicar and oversee all the duties of verger; keeping the heating system in order and preparing the altar for the various services. I was also responsible for tolling the 'five minute bell to call the faithful to prayer. Once a week, on Thursdays, Sydney Arthur, would take service of holy communion at six in the morning. Surprisingly, at least twelve of the parish faithful would be regular attenders. I have to admit that I have always had a mild problem with dyslexia. Usually when under stress I tended to see numbers and print as though in a mirror. On the morning in question, I woke quite suddenly and checking the time I saw with a shock that it was eight minutes to six. The church heat should have been switched on and all the prepping ready for the service. In a great panic I put on my pants, not bothering to remove my pyjamas, threw on a jacket and shot out of the house in a panic. I switched on the church lighting and set the heating thermostat: the church was like a fridge and it took at least half an hour to warm up. By the time I had laid out the vestments none of the worshippers had arrived. I hurried to the base of the tower and hung onto the bell rope and began the slow toll on the tenor bell. After a minute or so, still ringing the summons to prayer, I looked up at the clock. It was five minutes to three! Incidentally, it was during the Cuban missile crisis when we seemed on the brink of an atomic war with Russia. The police rang the vicar to enquire if world war three had broken out and no one had told them! Of the vicars comments, I have no record. Oddly, not one of the early congregation mentioned it, but the vicar was grinning like a Cheshire Cat throughout the communion service. He never, at that time at least, uttered a word about it. Later that morning I paid a visit to Mrs. Hodgson's shop, opposite to the church, on Kildwick corner. Though Mrs. Hodgeson had many good points she was a great gossip and loved to be the first with any news of happening in the parish. The door bell was still clattering on it's spring when she pounced on me like some virago. "Mr. Thorp", she cried. “Why were the bells ringing at three o‘ clock this morning?". “Bells Mrs. Hodgeson”, I responded. "What bells?". "The church bells!" she yelled. "Someone was ringing the church bells at three in the morning.” I put on my amazed look of complete innocence. "I didn’t hear any bells". She almost choked. "The vicar came in for his cigarettes ten minutes ago and he insisted that he didn’t hear them either. Is everyone deaf in this parish?". Poor Mrs. Hodgeson, I doubt if she ever found out who it was that disturbed her sleep.
Posted: 28/8/2021 |