lonelybrit | Hehe... Oh, there are times I almost love my church...

So, today was Palm Sunday. The day when I and one of the spawn grit our teeth, fall out of bed half an hour early and trundle off to a distant church so we can process. A day that is usually emabarassing and hilarious in equal measures. The simple reason for amusement being that it's the time when two church choirs have to join forces. The result is point-scoring and pretty much full scale war as we try to out-do/sing each other.

So, in the red corner you have the church of St. Margarets. Apparently more high-church than most Roman Catholic digs. There are bells, smells, and random chants thrown in for good measure. And of course, there is a choir. A nice rag-tag mixture of boys and girls, men and women, all of whom sing for nothing more than their free orange juice and biscuits after each service. They have to earn their ribbons through good old-fashioned hard work, commitment and effort.

In the blue corner you have the church of St. Giles. Technically in the same parish as St. Margarets, but they are more low-church, without the full gilt and razzle-dazzle. There is, however, a choir. An all male choir. Who are paid a monthly salary. Who wear ruffles, and get their ribbons automatically upon joining. Pffft. (Yes, can you guess which corner I belong to? LOL!)

So, imagine the fun that is unleashed when these two choirs are made to work together for this one service every year? Oh yes. It's full on war. Triumphs to the red corner so far include: taking the St. Margaret's inscense into the St. Giles church; making the St. Giles choir deruffle themselves; generally having a larger procession whenever the procession is heading for St. Margarets.

Yes, we are petty. Surely no-one is surprised?

Anyway, this was nicely different as, for the first time ever, the two choirs actually united. Admittedly only briefly, but still, a historic moment!

For those who are curious, in the Palm Sunday service the two choirs meet at one of the churches, and then process, singing, through the streets in full regalia - complete with large six-feet-long palms, candles, inscense and silver-plated cross - to the other church for the actual service. Oxford is usally quite quiet at 10am on a Sunday morning, so on the whole the public is unaware of this little party and the mild embarassment of wandering in public in a blue dress with a white cotton blouse curplus is minimal.

Today, however, one car driver was obviously a little taken aback by the sudden appearance of the multiple blue and white robed procession. The car slowed, the window rolled down, and lo! was yelled: 'SATANISTS!'

The result was, of course, that the younger generations of both choirs rounded on the poor soul and attacked; jabbing through the open window with their six-feet-long-and-quite-hard-and-sharp palms, as well as generally thwacking the car.

**dabs eyes** Ah, a beautiful moment of unity.

The car and procession moved on in opposite directions, the singing resumed, and normal hostilities recommenced the moment the church was reached. Yet again musical taste went out the windows as both parties bellowed out the anthem with much vigour. Taste didn't matter. Outsinging the opposition did.

Yep. Happy times, happy times...