The cattle are blowing the baby away.....*

So it turns out that attending church for the first time in years make you re-think your choice of underwear.
I normally wear thongs, and have done for years, because they are so comfortable and wash and dry faster than normal nana-knicks, but last night whilst getting ready for the Carol Service at Holy Trinity Cathedral in Parnell, I had a re-think. I can’t go to CHURCH wearing a THONG. God will judge me.
And this is odd, because I don’t believe in God. However, I LOVE a good singalong, and other than getting blottoed at the pub and singing karaoke, church is about the only place you can exercise your pipes.
I went to a school that was very Christian, and we attended chapel every day at 8.10 to 8.30. We would sing a hymn, listen to a reading, someone would give a talk, then we’d receive a blessing and be off to start our day. At the time, chapel was a place where you’d slowly wake up, mumble the Lord’s Prayer, get in trouble by eagle-eyed prefects for laughing (I’d always get an attack of the giggles at inopportune moments). However, as much of a drag it was to attend chapel every day, how lame, OMG God doesn’t exist, etc., everyone always perked up when we began practicing for the end of year carol service. Who doesn’t love a good carol, I say. It means the end of the year, summer, exams over, and some truly beautiful singing.
So last week I saw the cathedral advertising its carol service for 2009, and I raved about it to Richard. Being Richard, he agreed to come along even though he can’t sing a note and disliked having to wear suit pants on a Sunday. I love him. We willingly set foot inside a church for the first time in years, save weddings and tourist larks.
And it was truly beautiful. The cathedral is light and airy, and quite modern with a high soaring roof to gaze up at. We chose a seat that was near a seeing-eye dog, because I love animals as you may be aware. As we sat down, a ray of light hit Richard in the face. Smugly, he said “that’s God giving me a sign I’m going to get a job soon.” Choosing to believe in God for that reason, I agreed.
We were surrounded by nodding white/purple heads, hearing aids, God-Squadders, and farmers that had brushed off the tweed coat and driven hours to come into town because it was the traditional thing to do.
As soon as the choir started singing Once In Royal David’s City, I got tears in my eyes. It was so beautiful. I felt like I was in an episode of the Vicar of Dibley. I got over it soon and was singing my lungs out on all my favourites, Hark the Herald, O Little Town of Bethlehem, O Come All Ye Faithful. We even gave $10.00 to the collection plate, it was that good.
We left feeling cleansed and I was glad I could still hit the high notes. I’ll definitely be doing this again.

*this is what my Uncle John apparently thought the words were when he was young.