Potty Mummy reminded me of this occasion with her witty posting this week.
Our neighbours had their second child Christened last summer.
Frances attends her Catholic Church evevry Sunday, Dr.G (her husband)never accompanies her, he's not a great believer.
They were renovating their palatial house at the time and living in a mobile home.
I offered my kitchen for the preparation of all the food to be prepared.
Dr G delegated and my children did a smashing job of the buffet. His parents retired to my bathroom to wash, change and go out for lunch while we soldiered on.
We all arrived at the Church and sat quietly waiting for the ceremony to begin.
Big sister entertained us all with a beautiful rendition of "the enormous catapillar", or "crunch, catapillar, crunch"...an unusual but nevertheless inspired choice for a Christening.
The vicar walked in and greeted us all, shook hands with the God Parents and Dr. G.
The Vicar announce there would be a reading, Frances turned round in the pew, "Oh, Dad, could you do the reading, please?"
A wonderful portly gentleman rose from his seat, did the sign of the cross and bowed with respect before the alter, then gave a faultless reading..not bad for an impromptu moment.
The Vicar put his fingers into the Holy water and made the sign of the cross on the babys' head. In turn the God Parents and Parents were to do the same. The vicar stood in front of Dr.G.
Dr. G glared at him.
Frances nudged Dr. G.
The vicar nodded with encouragement.
"Look Frances", he spat "I don't agree with any of this and I'm not doing it!"
He slouched in his seat, arms folded across his chest and steadfastly refused.
Darling husband and I were shaking with laughter, our children were glaring at us and mouthing to be quiet.
The Vicar then said he would annoint the babys' head.
He rummaged in one pocket, then the other, then another.
He frowned, shouted to his helper at the back. The helper rushed forwards searching round the alter, into little cupboards, backwards and forwards, it was like something out of the Two Ronnies.
Frances fed the baby.
Frances walked out and changed the babys' nappy.
"He's lost the bloody oil" she hissed as she walked by us.
Frances returned with the clean and tidy baby, the vicar found the oil in his pocket (this was after around 20 minutes of rummaging)..darling husband and I were crying with laughter, our children were furious with us, we were going to be in big trouble when they got us home.
They annointed the baby and I forget the rest, but it was terrific entertainment.