Twenty-four days to Christmas, twenty days to the Winter Solstice and 20 000 words to the end of my Blogging Odyssey. Snow has yet to cloak our Ancient Towne but here is Rye bedecked in snowy mantles at Christmastime.

Jennifer Ehle and Colin Firth in Pride & Prejudice and Hugh Grant & Andie MacDowell in Four Weddings and a Funeral are the most watched films in my small Maritime Household over the past few months…getting on for a dozen helpings of each. There are three weddings in Jane Austen’s film…Lydia, Jane and Elizabeth…but Aficionados will remember the wedding number seven when the priest’s fateful words ‘If anyone knows of any just cause or impediment why these two should not be joined in Holy Matrimony let him speak now or forever hold his peace'...elicited a response from the midst of the congregation assembled to witness the happy event.

Richard Curtis had set things up for an ‘I do’ from Charles by Carrie’s remark before the ceremony that weddings were really quite easy. ‘You just say ‘I do!’ whenever anyone asks you a question.’ Unfortunately for the bride-to-be-no-more after a public intervention, the Vicar’s question was ‘Do you really love someone else, Charles? Do you?’

Today I was witness to just such a Liturgical Interruption…but in a Funeral. Hugh Moseley our Local Vicar who conducted the service declared afterwards at The Standard Inn that he had never had it happen before But Clifford Jordan tells me of an occasion when he was playing the organ at a funeral and a fight broke out in the front pews with cries of ‘Hussy!’ and ‘Trollop!’ echoing through the vestry.

Rye is not Brighton but over the past few years it has acquired a significant Gay Community of which David was part…as are several others involved with Ryesingers. Ian Potter was giving the tribute to David Peart and was in the midst of a slightly risqué story about a deep secret David had kept hidden all his life when he was interrupted from the pews.

Most of us had guessed that the punchline would not be David’s homosexuality. But a former boyfriend…and Gay Activist… jumped to a different conclusion and duly lectured the assembled congregation about David’s homosexuality, the pride he took in it and his active involvement in the Gay Movement. Wonderful Theatre. Richard Curtis could not have scripted it better. Fortunately this public intervention defused the issue…which was a Good Thing. Like any small town the subject has only become mentionable on such an occasion in the last few years.

I am always impressed by the courage it takes to break the Mould of Convention so I shook the chap’s hand at the end of the service. After sitting through a few dozen Quaker Meetings in Cambridge Massachusetts in 1980 and 1981 I am used to God’s mysterious way of moving people to speak out. Ian is a former mayor and a barrister, so he was quite unfazed by the interruption. He waited patiently for the fellow to get it off his chest, mentioned that it was not his homosexuality being alluded to and carried on where he had left off. It turned out that David’s father had worn a toupée…a shocking thing in Hartlepool in the sixties and deeply embarrassing for a young boy at Primary School.

One of the hardest things about living on the water is keeping your clothes in a presentable state…clothes and computers…so I minimalise, acquire frequently from Charity Shops and throw shirts and jeans away more often than I would otherwise. Currently I have one Dinner Jacket for Ryesingers concerts…and a light grey lounge suit that has to serve for all other occasions...including funerals. Ties get worn with The Suit…and keep me warm in the winter.

Strolling down the High Street after the funeral with my white shirt, sombre tie and lounge suit, I was accosted by a woman who rushed up to me expressing great consternation that I had not been to look through her four boxes of books in Camber. In a small town like Rye you know everybody...at least by sight or reputation. I had last seen this particular woman at Camber Church in the summer when her son married a Greek girl and a few Ryesingers provided Backing Vocals. Before I could get a word in edgeways she was off. Mistaken identity…but for whom?

The Greek Wedding was memorable as the bride’s family…in four People Carriers…had driven past the church and ended up in Folkéstoné…four syllables. Chaos ensued in mid-service when the Church Doors were flung open. The Bride’s Side was overwhelmed so I shared my chair with a charming young female Greek cousin…Christian charity.