It's fair to say that we really didn't know what we were letting ourselves in for when we trundled up to the village church at 11:30pm on Christmas Eve. I was expecting a light service, for the mainstream 'once a year' visitor, possibly the church decorated with christmas trees and lights, possibly an orange with a candle stuck in it.
I wasn't expecting something akin to horror film cultishness, bible held aloft, responses, and the bells...oh the bells! After five minutes it was pretty clear that I didn't belong here, and I genuinely wanted to leave, in fact if we'd have been nearer the door I think I might have made a run for it. But no, we sat it out until the bitter end.
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