IGNORING all that WC Fields is supposed to have said about working with children and animals, Barton Methodist Church held an outdoor nativity with several word-perfect children and a donkey whose behaviour was every bit as impeccable.

The donkey was called Thistles, a reference to a long devoured commercial for Heinz tomato soup, and was thought to be around 30. In donkeys' years she may still be a bit bairn, of course.

Thistles, it transpired, had also been rolling in something, as is a donkey's wont. "I like it when they roll in something," someone said.

"You don't have to wash them," said Kay Hodgson, who'd brought the donkey up the road from Middleton Tyas and would periodically slip her a Polo mint - a sweetener, as it were.

Old Fields might also have offered wise words about outdoor church services in mid-December, but this proved a most splendid winter's afternoon with a picture postcard setting of ford and footbridge close behind.

Just about the last time we'd crossed that bridge, coincidentally, was in the company of the Rev Leo Osborn, chairman of the Newcastle Methodist district. The column chose the bridge. Leo, perhaps forgetting that walking on water was meant to be a miraculous one-off, opted for the more direct route and ended up going spectacularly A over T, or whatever is the Methodist equivalent.

The morning had been memorable, too. Saddam Hussein trapped like a particularly repulsive toad in a hole, England's cricketers battling to a draw in Sri Lanka and the Christmas tree at home bought and erected without the family coming to blows or someone garrotted with an inextricably knotted string of fairy lights.

Thereafter they could become a Gordian angel, of course.

Barton is somewhere between Darlington and Scotch Corner, once on the Great North Road and now a bit more peaceful. The original Methodist church is now an attractive private house - The Old Chapel, Chapel Row - the schoolroom converted into a cosy little place of worship which, by virtue of its size, often gets quite full.

Numbers are growing, and again exceeded expectation. Margaret Smith, the minister, had supposed that 25 or so might turn up, wrapped up, and was delighted to see around 50.

Philip Glithro, the organist, essayed the role of warm-up man, playing again the line about cold hands and warm heart.

The nativity itself seemed to be a little short staffed, however. One of the angels had taken wing elsewhere though Rebecca Gray, the survivor, fulfilled the role with such manifest joy and enthusiasm she might have been a veritable choir of angels, and each from the realms of glory.

Emma Walton and Deborah Marwood played the two shepherds, the third perhaps seeking double time for Sundays, though there was a quorum of kings - Val Govan and her daughters Anna and Erin.

Gold, frankincense and myrrh were followed by mince pies and coffee, which were no less appreciated.

Mary, Rachel Thomas, appeared entirely at peace with the world, which might have been expected. Neither she nor Thistles, said by the kids to be a wonky donkey but in truth a credit to her humble calling, never put a foot wrong.

The script had been written by the minister and by Joan Marwood, a star of Barton's celebrated annual pantomime - Sleeping Beauty this year - though Joan resolutely refused to reveal which role she would be fulfilling. The sort of investigative journalism for which these columns are far renowned has failed to flesh out the part. It is to be hoped she is not the Beast.

Margaret was the narrator, more crib cards than an O-level exam room, had told her Hurworth congregation that morning that they'd be using a live donkey. "We didn't expect a dead one," they said. Joan played the innkeeper. The stable might on other occasions have been the boy scouts' tent. "There's one or two people haven't had a full rehearsal but neither did Mary and Joseph. It was rather sprung on them," said Margaret.

It was all done tremendously well and, one of the things that Christmas should be, was also a lot of fun.

We sang old favourites like Away In a Manger and O Come All Ye Faithful, sprinkled one or two more modern carols, heard Margaret pray that wise men might appear in Belfast, Iraq and Zimbabwe "and that the rumour might become realty, that Christ is come among us." It passed swiftly, 22 minutes, with a collection afterwards for NCH - the Methodist children's charity - and for the Donkey Sanctuary. By the time we reached home, Arsenal - simultaneously engaged - had taken the lead and were rightfully returning to the top of the Premiership tree. It could be a very happy Christmas, and, for all this column's faithful readers at the end of another year, that's the earnest wish.

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