It is hard to believe we have been here for a whole year. Time has been wearing its winged shoes, and so much has happened.  Mike and I have known right from the start that this was where God wanted us to be, but it took a few months for us to find out why he wanted us here. However, almost unnoticed, we have found ourselves involved in things, and looking back, we realise how much was just waiting for us.

When we arrived last September, we were warned that the Methodist chapel was in an appalling state. It is the main church here, since the Anglican church is a mile from the village and has not even a water supply. There is a quaint but tiny Baptist chapel too, but the Methodist chapel is well-placed  in the centre of the village, with plenty of space and a separate “Sunday School” building. But it was not up to any sort of reasonable standard. The only loo was outside in a rickety outhouse, the heaters were high on the ceiling and either grilled the congregation or did not reach them at all, and in winter, condensation streamed down walls and windows. However, plans were in mind to renovate the building, to put in more efficient heating and double glazing, and to construct a link with the old Sunday School which will house a meeting room, storeroom, kitchen and WC.

Because all denominations use the Methodist chapel, all have been involved in the project, and since it is also for the use of the entire village, it is being called “The Heart of Hamsterley”.  Fund raising began in January, and Mike was asked to draw up a business plan to present to (and to impress) potential donors and charitable trusts. He did it just  before he went into hospital. Money has poured in, and the £130,000 needed to complete the project in now all found. Mike has been appointed church treasurer, and has been busy handling the donations, alongside the usual duties of a treasurer. Work began in May and is due to finish this month, with an opening event scheduled for October.

I have preached my way round the Methodist circuit of ten churches, and am due to preach at the Anglican church  at Hamsterley, in November. It is easy here to forget the divides between the denominations, with our harvest festival this year being held in the Baptist chapel,   Anglican ministers turning up to  preach at  the Methodist chapel, and the Methodist minister being made welcome at all the Anglican events. Almost all our services are joint ones. I hope God is pleased with it all. I certainly am.

Each month a few people, mostly Anglicans, hold a “church with a difference” service in one of the village halls,  and Mike and I have been involved in  that, and Mike has also had input in the “Messy Church” initiative – organised by the newly appointed families worker – mainly providing power-point presentations.  

It feels good to be part of a small community, where so many people know almost everybody – even the names of the dogs, and who owns which horse. When we held our Ruby Wedding party, I was glad it was not just “church” people who turned up; we had visitors whom we had met in other contexts, and two came whom we had never seen before – they just saw the general invitation I had issued, and came along. No one eats like the St Hilda’s congregation, though. I had mountains of food left over. Fortunately, it could all go in the freezer, and some of it came in useful the following week when I had a visitor from Calderdale to stay.

It has been interesting, watching the seasons come and go, and experiencing them in a new location. The glorious wildflower meadow outside the cottage became waist-high and the flowers faded, then one day it was all cut down to make hay. In no time at all, it seemed,  the hay was turned, dried, baled and collected, and now there is just the grass I remember when we first moved in. In the fields, the oats and barley have been harvested, the straw collected, and now there is just golden stubble. The wonderful, long summer evenings have shrunk, and now it is dark by 8.30pm, so we have to remember to shut up our hens earlier.

We had a bit of an adventure with the goats last week. I had put out a trug of hay for them, and fastened it with a short bungee. When I went down in the evening, the bungee had vanished. I raked the floor of the goathouse, and raked the paddock, and found nothing. It seemed impossible, but could a goat have eaten it? I telephoned the vet with my suspicions, and he didn’t seem particularly surprised – after all, goats eat anything, so people say. He advised me to keep an eye on them for a few days, so I did. Nothing happened. The goats seemed fine – full of themselves, in fact – but no bungee turned up. After several days, I decided I had better take them in to be x-rayed. We are going away next week, and I didn’t want to leave any potential problems for the people who are looking after our animals. So I had the animal ambulance to come and collect them, and the driver and I took them to the vet at Barnard Castle. The goats were very excited, and showed off. I don’t think the veterinary surgery gets goats very often, and it seemed that all the vets came out to see the fun. Both goats were x-rayed, and no bungee showed up, so it was a false alarm. I was relieved that neither of them would need an operation, but still mystified about where the bungee could be. However, two days later I found it. It had slipped down between two of the rubber mats that line the goathouse floor, so I had missed it with my rake. Rather a waste of time and money (I haven’t had the vet’s bill, yet) but I shall put it all down to experience.

That’s our first Hamsterley year. We miss you all, and hope we shall see you again before too long. It is good to hear your news via “Tidings”, now appropriately renamed, “Good Tidings”.  We hope you enjoy the rest of your centenary celebrations, as you begin your next century!

Lots of love from Susan (and Mike)