Diary of a Die-hard (Apprentice) 2
Stephen Boon continues to give us exclusive insight into the life of an apprenticeship at St. Nicholas Church, Sevenoaks.
It seems my rector was somewhat perturbed by my little contribution to the previous edition of this otherwise fine publication. I don’t quite remember what I wrote, but I think he’s worried that it might be related to the lack of applicants for apprenticeships next year.
Whenever he now sees me carrying out my duties he gives a nervous laugh and wonders aloud (with a hint of pleading in his voice) whether I will mention these activities in this journal. So I promised him, as I stood barefoot in the snowy graveyard, sweeping the paths using a wriggling hedgehog for want of a broom, with (for warmth) last week’s service sheets stuffed down my thinning shirt, which I am too poor to replace – this month’s ha’penny pay having been forfeited for coughing during a prayer meeting… – I promised him, as I was saying, that I would do my utmost to make apprenticeships at this church sound as appealing as possible, whilst remaining within the strict limits of truth. I do hope I am succeeding on both fronts.
There will therefore be no mention, as I assured him, of the recent procedures to replace one of the defunct organ bellows with my left lung, and I would not dream of referring, even in passing, to the six weeks for which the church clock was broken, during which time I was required to awake at quarter-hourly intervals throughout each night to strike the bells with my recently-fitted wooden leg.
In the very real actuality of genuine fact, however, I am enjoying my time here very greatly. In a fairly large church like ours, it takes a while to get to know who everybody is, even though it was my home church before I started working there, so I should have had a head start. But I’m coming along now – after six months I have now sussed out the majority of the staff team, and the other day I realised that the mad old woman who keeps leaving vitamin-rich food parcels in my in-tray is my mother. I’m enjoying the ‘yoof’ work – luckily for me this is Sevenoaks and gettin’ down wid da kids consists of drinking Earl Grey and discussing Greek mythology. I’ve also been learning the elementary rules of football from some very articulate nine-year-olds at a local primary school. Turns out you’re not supposed to use your hands, and if one team gets away with it, the other team is supposed to cry. Readers concerned since my last article at my inability to lift chairs will be pleased to hear that, although I am no more butch than before, I have discovered that we have a magic chair-trolley, with the assistance of which rearranging chairs is now a joy and may indeed soon become a popular leisure activity.
So, as I say, please do apply for the remaining apprenticeships here – it is enormous fun and thoroughly rewarding. So much so, in fact, that I have just signed up to stay on next year. Oh, bother. Now I’ve put you off.