Back to solo travelling for my visit to Chantry. Ok, just one last church. It is Easter after all.
Sometimes the songs are reflections of the villages. Other times the villages reflect my own troubles back at me. In Chantry I was glad to find the church open so just sat down and sung this into my iphone. I wrote the lyrics in the visitor book.
They have made an effigy of the crucified Christ, from pieces of B and Q battening and used barbed wire as his crown of thorns.
In fact I do not recognize it as Christ at all immediately. The church itself is as intricately carved and crafted as I have now come to expect Somerset churches to be.
Sometimes I look into the villages, sometimes they stare hard back at me. Sometimes I just look hard at myself. Sometimes I could be anywhere. The journeys are long and lonely and I am prone to introspection. I am selfish; I probably let you down Chantry.
I shrank into myself.
This is song about turning back time, but you can’t. Then you try and persuade people to make everything like before, but it’s impossible.