Back among friends

BUILT on coal and confidence, St Stephen's parish church in Willington celebrated its 150th anniversary last Sunday. The pits have long been exhausted, the times much changed; the Co Durham determination remains.

In the bad old, good old days the colliery owners would slip an extra penny in the pay packet of all who attended church on the Sabbath. Now they can't pack them in for love nor money - or not for the former, anyway. Bribery hasn't yet been tried.

We've twice before been to St Stephen's, on each occasion to acknowledge the patronal festival, on Boxing Day. Stephen was the first Christian martyr, stoned to death in AD35 and, somewhat bizarrely, still the patron saint of bricklayers and headache sufferers.

This was high summer, a warm weekend attracting big crowds to a host of events, the steel bells - among just six sets in the country - pealing welcome. "It's been astounding, beyond our wildest dreams," said Dorothy Middleton, the treasurer.

There'd been a flower festival organised by Gloria Dobson, strawberry teas, tombola, bouncy castle, kids' competitions and the release of 150 balloons, sponsored by the Co-op Funeral Service - all sorts of spirit imagery there - to see which could be freed furthest.

That was another example of how times change. A little historical exhibition included the programme (price twopence) from the 1913 fundraising bazaar, opened on the first day by Viscountess Boyne and on the second by Mrs Shafto.

Competitions included hat trimming and nail driving and - for men only - the "hurry-up-to-catch-the tram" race. Trains, similar lines, came to town from all parts.

Last weekend there were also matchstick models, not just of St Stephen's but of five other churches - most local, one in Norway - made by Les Lee, from Crook, a couple of miles up the road.

Clearly a man of many talents, Mr Lee also played the accordion during the festival's quieter moments.

The exhibition also included a brochure for the centenary celebrations, noting that St Stephen's had been built from "poor quality" stone. A Grade II listed building, it seems to have been served pretty sturdily by it.

In 1801, Willington's population was 169, grown to 965 by 1851. Forty years later it was 5,107, Brancepeth Colliery in full vigour, the coal-black economy thriving.

The church thrived, too, extended in 1869 and again in 1873 to accommodate growing numbers. In for a penny...

The faithful remain a remarkably resilient bunch, a £54,000 re-ordering of the church completed in 2004 - disabled friendly, too - the 150th anniversary planned for 18 months.

They were taken aback, however, when Fr Paul Grundy, rector for the past eight years, announced that he would be moving on at Easter, leaving the parish without a priest.

In the Church of England, the period between parish priests is called an interregnum. Like Pinnocchio's nose, interregnums appear to grow ever longer.

"We were very sad to see him go," says Dorothy. "We all had to work together and be strong for one another and we've had a lovely weekend."

"We're doing very well," says Daphne Scarr. "Our numbers haven't dropped since Fr Paul left, now we hope to build them up."

The church looks lovely, a huge "150" montage in the porch made up of self-portraits of all 200 pupils, including nursery class, at the local Church of England primary school. The bairns did the posters, too.

Dorothy's governors' chairman, too. "We're really trying to get the message across to the youngsters," she says.

Ending the weekend's celebration, a wonderfully lively service is led by Fr David Heron, Willington's rector from 1981-95 and now vicar of Dipton and Leadgate, in Derwentside. Canon Patrick Kent, long serving and much loved former vicar of Cockerton, Darlington, is there, too.

"I asked what part I was playing in the service, they told me all of it," Fr David announces, observing also that St Stephen's always was a welcoming church.

"Anybody is welcome in this place. I've been away 12 years and the moment I walked in, someone said 'By you're fat'. Isn't it nice to know you're back among friends."

He also tells of a former rector who found a couple in bed, on a mattress, in the bell tower - "I said anyone was welcome here" - and of the telephone call from an American tourist asking if he'd be shooting as usual that night.

"He said he'd been told by the guide that Willington was the only place in England where the rector climbed the church tower at midnight and fired 12 shots from his rifle.

"The moral of the story is never to believe all you're told by tour guides."

They love him. "You forget how much woomph he brought to the place," someone says afterwards. Like interregnum, "woomph" is one of those arcane ecclesiastical terms which we may explain on another occasion.

There are splendid hymns - young Richard Openshaw on great form as always on the old-enough-to-be-his Father Willis organ - and prayers both that the interregnum may be short and that the Bishop of Durham's impending visit may be fruitful.

"Fruitful" is another church term, meaning that the episcopal visitor may expect to have his arm twisted like Mick McManus on two falls, two submissions and a knock-out.

Whenever and whoever, the new man will inherit a church of enthusiasts: verily, showing Willington.