Today was harvest sunday at church. It seems little has changed since I was small and attended the harvest service. People brought cans and food,dusty from the backs of their cupboards to donate to various local charities the church supports. There is many a homeless and less fortunate person who will be tasked with the job of figuring out what to make with canned hearts of palm and unlabeled chutney. I apologise for my attitude, in fact it was really lovely to see all the children going to the front of the church, armed with carrier bags of foodie treasure. A mountain of donations lay before the congregation once everyone had returned to their pews. For all the negative comments that get directed towards churches, in reality, communities benefit greatly from their presence. From food banks, to toddler groups, from bereavement support to wedding celebrations, from a space to have a party to a place to seek peace, churches fulfill a need many don’t notice exists until there is no one there to do it. Anyway enough of my soapbox. The ladies had decorated all the window sills with conkers and fruit and we sang about ploughing fields and scattering seeds. Afterwards Sophie and I ate biscuits and she drank noxious purple cordial. Then we headed home to chicken in a mushroom tarragon cream sauce courtesy of the lovely Matthew.
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