IN the 170 years of its ecclesiastical existence, the lovely little church of St Agatha in Skeeby – Grade-II listed, much hedged about – may only twice have featured prominently in the popular prints.

The first was on Christmas Day 1987 when the single bell crashed to earth, narrowly missing poor Nigel Metcalfe who was ringing it and sounding rather a festive flat note amid the ding-dong merrily. Skeebyjeebies, it didn’t do much for Nigel’s Christmas, either.

The second, in 2004, was the funeral of 90-year-old Doris Bagley – the first funeral in St Agatha’s history and very much Mrs Bagley’s dying wish.

Legally it is a chapel of ease, a daughter church of St Agatha – Roman virgin and martyr, somewhat ironically the patron saint of bell-founders – in nearby Easby.

Hitherto the 50-seat Skeeby church had been considered too small for a funeral, impossible both to get coffin and bearers through the door and a lugubriousness of mourners inside.

Even Mrs Bagley’s husband’s funeral had been at the historic and richly-endowed Easby church, though he’d died while preparing Skeeby’s for harvest festival.

“We were all on a learning curve, but it seemed to go very well,” said Ruth Wigram, the vicar at the time.

Skeeby’s a village of about 350 people, between Scotch Corner and Richmond. The Methodist chapel, the pub and the little shop have all gone, leaving only St Agatha’s, the village hall and the most asinine speed bumps in English highway history.

They’ve even had a public meeting about them. Whatever may be said about more haste, travellers between Scotch Corner and Richmond would be awfully grateful for less speed bumps.

This, at any rate, was an altogether happier occasion – a united, post- Easter service for the four churches in the benefice – Skeeby, Easby, Brompton-on-Swale and Bolton-on- Swale where lies buried, says his stone, the 169-year-old Henry Jenkins.

St Agatha’s is beautifully arrayed, the village daff-decked, too. Spring has sprung. “It’s a bit too warm,”

someone says, ungratefully.

Normally, they might attract a dozen or so for morning service. Now there are 40 or more, including Audrey Taylor, a retired teacher sitting alongside. “I’m here to check your spelling,” she says.

Brenda Hall is Skeeby’s churchwarden, lives up the village. Hazel Austin, Easby’s warden, lives next door. “We do things together,” they chorus.

The spirit of co-operation was evident a few months ago when a baptism planned for Easby had to be switched to Skeeby at two hours notice because the pipes were frozen.

“It was a lovely occasion, children running all over the place. In a way Skeeby suited it much better,” says Brenda.

The first funeral behind them – there’ve been “three or four” more – they even sought a marriage licence from the bishop and were seriously disappointed when the young lady planning to be St Agatha’s first bride in getting on two centuries changed her mind and opted for a posh hotel job instead. “If ever we have a wedding here the whole village will turn out. There’ll be people lining the streets,” says Elaine Gray.

Such things are known in the Church as occasional services. It’s just that in Skeeby, folk seem seldom to rise to the occasional.

SUNDAY’S service is announced by further bell ringing – tolling not, it is to be hoped, for the ringer – and led by the Reverend Laura Wilford, a retired priest who was diocesan director of ordinands in Carlisle.

In the absence of an organist, it’s accompanied by one of those clever, computer-controlled jobs – Yamaha, it says on the side, thought it’s altogether more melodious than the average motor bike. The organ plays Purcell, involuntarily.

Mrs Wilford seems to have been something of a moveable priest, much travelled before retiring to Richmond but still active. “I’d rather wear out than rust,” she says.

The Gospel reading is the story of Thomas, the doubter. Mrs Wilford admits a strange regard for him, recalls that in her Sunday School days he was known as Diddymus. Latin?

You’d doubt it.

Her sermon’s eloquent, delivered without notes, helped by a little girl from the congregation who holds a water bottle that’s about 50 per cent full. Only one in the congregation admits to thinking it’s half empty.

Doubting Thomas would have done.

As now is the wont, there’s also the exchange of handshakes called Passing the Peace. In Skeeby, it’s more like a parish reunion, so enthusiastically is it undertaken. When they can’t reach they wave, cordially.

Elaine Gray recalls afterwards that in her younger days the distemper would be peeling from the church walls and the furniture prone to woodworm. “I remember a chair collapsing during the service,” she says. “These days it’s a simple church, but very beautiful.”

Brenda Hall says that while few Skeeby folk might regularly attend, most are very supportive. “They wouldn’t want to see this little church close. The village has lost enough already.”

There’s coffee and conversation afterwards.

Skeeby’s had a good morning.

The bell would really ring, though, if – after all this time – someone decided to tie the knot there. For Skeeby, and for St Agatha’s, true wedded bliss.

■ St Agatha’s in Easby – a mile or two down river from Richmond – stages a flower and music festival from June 18 to 20. The church will be open from 10am to 6pm with strawberry teas from 2pm to 5pm.

The event ends with choral evensong at 6.30pm on Sunday, June 20.