Photo-a-Day  (Wednesday, 3rd April, 2024)

People do not like visiting grave yards at the best of times but the sight of so many daffs will lift the spirits of the visitors going through the grave yard. Many of the deceased would never get any flowers on their graves and the jester of planted flowers would uplift visitors that these graves are not forgotten

A grim and wet day at the Church Yard at Standish.
When is it going to stop raining!
The grave headstones look very old and the Daffodils try and help to brighten up the place.
Only the Daffodils reminds us of Spring.

Is it Supposed to be Spring or are we stuck in Autumn. A cold Wintery day and only the flowers reminds us of Spring.
A very bleak day.
Climate change is really happening.

A good photo inside the Church grounds, and a much photographed St Wilfred Church on pad, but not seen in the cemetery before. Looks cold and wet...Brrr.
Nice picy Colin and different.

Looks cold, wet and miserable. But in a few weeks time a different aspect of the Church when Summer arrives.
The Daffodils help to brighten up the day. Roll on Summer.

“ To see a world in a grain of sand
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand
And eternity in an hour”……
William Blake 1757 -1827

A pleasant picture Colin . The new flagged path is much less treacherous now in the rain . ( Will it ever stop ?) Still , its good for the daffs , which look glorious .

Another good one , though its more sombre than yesterday's photo. The daffodils cheer the whole as they alway do & frame the lovely church .
Thanks Colin.

That's a lovely photo Colin. I like daffodils in a churchyard and I like them planted higgledy-piggledy; I hate to see flowers in regimented rows.

Nice photograph, Colin.
I like daffodils, because their bright yellow colour and form, for me, give the impression that they are happy flowers.
It is a very nice church, which I have been in quite a number of times.

Today's photo should be a about Ducks, it's never stopped raining.

Saint Theresa of the roses.
I will come to you each night
Near the altar in the Chapel
I will pray by candlelight.

I put a comment on earlier but it hasn't appeared with the rest....I wonder why? It was just to say I like to see daffodils in a churchyard in Spring, especially when they are planted higgledy-piggledy, as I hate to see flowers in regimented rows. Apologies if my first comment appears later as well as this one.

Some of those graves look unsightly, maybe their friends and relatives have past away too.

Think April showers and the rain doesn't sound so bad.
I love a good mooch around old graveyards.

It’s not Wilfred Arthur, it’s Wilfrid. It’s definitely not Wilfred ‘cos I wrote Wilfred once and very near got crucified for doing it. If they catch you calling it Wilfred Arthur they will take you out and shoot you, or if you’re lucky they will just flog you round the Churchyard instead. Please don’t call it Wilfred Arthur.
I don’t think Wilfrid himself minds ‘cos he popped his clogs a long time ago, but the W.W regulars will come for you with red hot pokers in their hands and what they do with those pokers doesn’t bare thinking about.

It's raining on the High street ,
It's raining in the fields ,
Its drizzling on the park seats ,
It's great if you're a Seal ,

It chucks down every morning ,
Each day the weather sucks ,
Puddles forever forming ,
It's great if you're a duck ,

It's lashing down on the cars and vans
Where the window wipers swish ,
Not good for we humans ,
But great if you're a fish .

The clouds are thickening black as mud ,
Every afternoon it's dark ,
I hear Irene's gone to get some wood
To build herself an Ark .

Precipitation every minute ,
Rain on the church yard daffs ,
I think we all are at our limit ,
But at least we can have a laugh .

A couple of people in our village originated from Holland, and on deciding to go back there, they donated 5,000 daffodil bulbs to be planted around the village. They stand like a guard of honour on each side of the road and look very welcoming and beautiful.
Your photo highlights the dour frontage of St Wilfred's, like most churches, against the gorgeous yellows of the daffs. Thanks Colin.
Veronica, those lines of Blake's poetry are astoundingly beautiful. Thanks.

DTease - I did say Wilfrid's but the spellcheck must have changed it!!

Thanks Pat. One of the greats..
Yes there’s a doughnut about as well at the moment Dtease about as funny as toothache.
Can’t seem to stick to one name though. The rain must be sending him mad…shame!

Well, what a brilliant poem, Poet! I feel very flattered to feature in it! Lovely words too, from Veronica and Maureen, and a good laugh from Our DTease, as always. I was told a story many years ago about a Young German prisoner-of war in a small village who was put to gardening duties and worked hard, and gradually he actually won the hearts of the villagers and they were sorry when he was eventually sent home. He told them he would plant some crocuses and when they flowered the following Spring he hoped the villagers would remember him. When the crocuses came up they spelled "Heil Hitler!". It probably isn't true but it made me laugh when I was told the tale!

That’s a good one Poet, made me laugh that did.
A niece of mine went tenting in the Lake District with her school. When she got back I asked her what it was like. She replied “soggy grass, soggy tent and soggy knickers”

PatMcC, that was my excuse, did me no good at all. They still came after me like a rabid dog!

OK sorry DTease, and I will correct myself next time. Thanks.

Irene the Daffodils are called clumps when they are together.
But the bulbs must not touch each other when they are planted.

I use to always get confused with the correct name St Wilfred or Wilfids. I suppose easily done with spellchecker.

Apologies in that I cannot account for the weather that day, Easter Sunday was quite different blue sky, glorious sunshine and the bells ringing in perfect harmony.
The church is first mentioned in 1205 but the vast extent of the ancient parish with its eleven townships (Adlington, Anderton, Charnock Richard, Coppull, Duxbury, Heath Charnock, Langtree, Shevington, Standish, Welch Whittle and Worthington) points to a very early foundation.
The Pilkington family of Lancashire have a long-standing connection to the church and mention is made in 1322 when Robert, heir of the Pilkington estates and his brother Adam in dispute with John De Dichfield and his brothers was agreed to be settled by the decision of Henry Le Walys, the Chaplain of Standish.[3] The Rector of Standish was Roger Standish in 1477 and was in that year the last surviving trustee of the estates of Alexander Pilkington in Rivington and Mellor. He released the estates to the beneficiary being Roger Pilkington, who was Alexanders grandson on him attaining the age of majority. Roger Pilkington settled at Rivington where he made immediate improvements to Rivington Hall.
Of the three chantries inside the Church, the Chantry of the Blessed Virgin Mary was the earliest and was created in 1301, others were added later including the Altar of Our Lady, Chantry at the Altar of St. Nicholas and the Chantry of the Holy Cross otherwise known as the Rood Altar.
The chantry at the altar of St Nicholas founded 1478 in the north aisle recorded formerly by a brass plate with an inscription in Latin to the effect that Robert Pylkington had been custodian and chaplain of this chantry and gave to the chantry a yearly revenue of six marks. He died on 6 May 1498. James Nevore was chantry priest at the date of the Commissioners' Report, and the chantry was endowed with land in Rivington, Whittle, Adlington, and Heath Charnock. The lands held at Rivington were purchased from the crown in 1583 by Thurston Anderton and included Higher Knowle farm, Lower Knowle farm and Grut farm, once located opposite the entrance of the current Rivington and Blackrod High School. The possession by the Crown was in consequence of the Abolition of Chantries Act 1547. An earlier record of 1574 recovering rents for the same properties to the benefit of the school suggests freehold and leasehold. It is likely the grant of the land dated to the time of the Pilkington endowment in 1478.
The spire dates from the 1800 and further work took place in the 20th Century and now fund raising is being made to restore the spire as it is in need of substantial repair.
All the gravestones in the immediate vicinity of the Church are quite ancient, no doubt ancestors of many of us.
I hope all this this not bore you, it may look a bit grim in the picture but so would I if I had stood there the rain for centuries.

It’s not "bare", DTease, it’s "bear". It’s definitely not "bare" as that means "nowt on". Consider yourself "bearing" the consequences for that "bare" faced mistake.

A pleasant photo Colin, and of a place somewhere we'll all eventually end up, and being fertiliser for daffodils.
Whaaa DTease, that's enough to make your eyes water, a touch of The Miller's Tale and Edward ll with red hot pokers up the fundament.

Would you believe it!, that cursed Spellchecker has done me again….honest John!.

As in bare face cheek John?
Irene that was funny. I hope he HAD been repatriated by the time crocus appeared.

Never mind Dtease that man who invented spell check is dead now and it’s his funfair on Friday.

A lovely photo Colin. It's not always sunny and *gasp* sometimes rains!

Colin, if you'd bought the Calendar I produced for St Wilfrid's in aid of the Spire Fund, you'd have read that the original spire was struck by lightening in 1814 and then blown down in a storm in 1822 - after which it was replaced by a stubby spire... which was made even less conspicuous from the village behind the 'Spite Houses' on Market Square. The present spire, now in need, as you say, of extensive and expensive repairs, was erected in 1867.

It’s still a lovely ancient church deSPITE all St WilFrid’s aches and pains…

Rev Long, apologies for my oversight regarding the spire, my intention was to in ‘spire’ others to investigate further.
I did try to purchase the calendar upon your recommendation from Standish library, after about 30 minutes they did manage to find a few in the back. So I gave Money to the church instead.
I hope the tea towels and other things do better in their current endeavours. I will give cash and anything else I can do to support this very worthy cause.

Moody photo Colin, as well as the sprire needing repair it looks like the facade needs a good clean up. If done and illuminated at night it could look very spectacular.
I have sent you an email so be on the look out for it, maybe in your spam.

Irene , I once worked with a lady named Irene Littler .
Her Christian name was abbreviated on the firms records so she was always referred to as I . Littler . Always got a laugh , (and a salute) when she was called on the tannoy .
My favourite was on 'Allo , Allo ' , when Hans was always a syllable or two behind .
Hiel Hitler ........itler .

An ancient Church, silhouetted against a grey sky and framed by bare - branched trees, standing guard over the resting place of those that are gone before.
And then the bright yellow daffodils, bright with the promise of spring and of new life.
A beautiful photo Colin

Poet, leesen carefulee....I shall say zees only vonce.....Gid Moaning! Poor lady, being called I Littler.....oh dear! It's worse than being called Alf Hart, (I knew one of those too, when I lived in Ince!).

Irene I knew a lady who was married to Alf Hart at the ROF . She used to be the lady who was in charge of the Ladies toilets. Honest! That’s true.

Now Irene's become a bit apprehensive ,
For the cost of the Ark was getting expensive ,
So she phoned Veronica to ask what to do ,
Who advised her to build a two woman canoe ,
So when the torrent comes bucketing down ,
And all the world looks set to drown
As heaven pours forth it's mighty mire ,
We can paddle around the tip of St .Wilf's spire .

When they got there they saw Colin clinging
To the weather vane clutching his camera and singing ,
" I'm saved . I am saved . Let there be no sorrow !
There can be another PAD tomorrow .
Let there be joy , and let us praise
The two fine ladies who have saved the day " .

Poet

Let’s hope there’s a double rainbow then around that Spire tomorrow….
Whatever happened to the promise there would be no more floods!!!
Good one Poet.

Immortalised in Fame in a poem at last, Veronica. What with you knowing the lady in charge of the Ladies' toilets at ROF, and me cleaning the Gentlemen's loos at The Queens Arms in Platt Bridge when I worked there, we couldn't attain a higher accolade! Thankyou, Poet! I think I need a sherry....where's that Garry when you need him?!

Actually she guarded the toilets for the simple reason that anybody found smoking would be reported. It wasn’t allowed on ‘the lines’…only in the canteen. Very strict rules there.

I wonder if it was the same Pilkington family that took over the St Helens glass industry in the 1800's?

Who cares…have you no friends? Stalkers aren’t welcome on here.

Who is Veronica pointing the finger at?
I don't follow!

Arthur, its the comment above Veronica's, made by "Ivan Ocre" which is an anagram of Veronica. A number of these "Veronica" anagrams have appeared over the last few months, "Rev.O'Cain" being one, and a couple of others which I can't just bring to mind but it is just childish. The same person has done it to me too, using "Eneri Strebor" which is my name spelled backwards. It's a pity he has nothing better to do and it is cowardly because he is hiding behind these silly false names so no-one knows who he is, but small things obviously amuse small minds. I say "he" because I feel it's a male.....call that feminine intuition.

Every post he follows with me - look at the 4 teachers photo I posted.
That’s just one. Have you not noticed all the cake names? Open your eyes haven’t you noticed all the names of ‘cakes’ and ‘lobbies’.! Just because they were mentioned once in Posts by Irene and myself? He’s a fruit and nut loaf! That’s instead of using a regular name.
‘cave iron’ Irene or Clog Iron.

Sorry Veronica, I never took notice.

It’s not your fault Arthur
Why would you notice….theres some very strange people.
Nothing better to do.