2 April  Palm/Passion Sunday at St. Giles in Wrexham.

I had originally wanted to go to St. Mary’s in Minera for Palm/Passion Sunday, but in corresponding with the Priest, who turned me over to the new priest:

   Hello David - thank you for your message.

   I am very sorry but there will not actually be a service in St. Mary's, Minera on Sunday 2^nd April.  

  This   is because we have a pattern of shared services with the neighbouring church of Christ  

  Church, Bwlchgwyn. Having said this, the service time is 9:30am meaning that the bus you were 

  planning to    use will not get you to the service on time in any case.

  However, St. Mary's Church, Minera is open during the daytime every day if you would like to make a 

  visit.

  Every blessing for an enjoyable trip to Wales.

  Best wishes,

  Huw

 Revd. Huw Butler

  Alyn Mission Area Leader

 Vicar of Llay, Rossett and Isycoed

Besides no service at St. Mary's church, bus service was different on Sundays and I could not get to Minera before 11 AM--which also impacted having Roast Beef lunch at Tyn-Y-Capel Inn for Sunday lunch and down Church road.

I am up way too early.  After a 9 AM breakfast, I walk through town.  It is nearly deserted.    I take the long, slow way around—Regent to Queens Street, Lampit St. and Holt.  I walk around to Tŷ Pawb, another place I had planned to go to go to.  I started following the Wrexham community singing group months ago on Facebook.  I emailed the director about coming by on Tuesday 4 April to listen to a rehearsal.  Wendy, the director was very responsive, assuming me there would be that were not going to meet during the Easter Break (tried to work that out with Wendy).  I figured that they wouldn’t meet even though the director, Wendy, had assured me they would. 

This was unlike the Rhosllanerchrugog Men’s Chorus, who knew they weren’t meeting during the break. Wendy also talked about the team and the Erddig estate south of town--since I wanted to visit it (and Llangollen, cradle of the Jones clan, to the southwest near the Polite Aqueduct) during the day.

I walk by Jones’ Fish n’ Chips, hoping I might have an appetite for the fried food by Monday or Tuesday night. I try to check out Wrexham Lager, but the gates are closed. I see the giant Eagles Meadow Shopping Centre (to the southeast) on the way over to my Monday-Tuesday Hotel, Wynnstay Arms, checking out Magic Dragon Brewery Tap. Wynnstay Arms is an old Inn at the west end of High Street. The Marston Corporation has cleaned it up. I walk up High Street and see the Wrexham Cwtch (formerly The Crafty Dragon), The Golden Dragon, The Beach and The Butchers Market—a Victorian market that still has a butcher plus a host of other stores, including Rob‘s Video Store, and Tracey’s Café.

I turn down Hope to towards St. Giles. Their reader board says service is at 11 AM and it’s only 10 AM.  What to do for an hour? I slowly stroll around the church yard and check out the very old and dark stained church—black with centuries of coal soot. It is every bit as impressive as the other churches I have seen in the past two weeks—nothing like Salisbury or Bath, but just as important as St. Mary’s in Callington, St. Neot’s or St. Edward the Confessor in Roath, Cardiff. I walk back up Hope—thinking about coffee. I see a modern restaurant, it's not, it's Hope Street Church, on the corner of High and Hope. I notice that there are lots of young families, with strollers and kids in hand and in arms going in while a man and woman team greet them.  Very friendly--Anglican church within the Diocese of St Asaph. I eventually decide on Gregg’s right next to the 'alley; street, Bank Street. The coffee is cheap and I am not the least temped by the enormous selection of baked good.  I walk back down Hope listening to the church bells at 10:15 AM--amazing.  I try to stay warm, sitting on a bench on High Street checking out Sunday morning life. The town is starting to come to life.  The bells momentarily stop, but start in again at 10:30 and 10:45.  I SLOWLY start walking towards St. Giles, circling the church and yard, again.  I am only half surprised to see a homeless man sitting just beyond the fence with his dog on the southeast edge of the property. I see a few parishioners are entering, so I also make my way inside.

2 April   Same Thing Only Older Palm/Passion Sunday at St. Giles

A young Asian girl, alter person, hands me a palm cross.  I also get a bulletin as well as a weekly events calendar.  They are having 10 services, Monday through Sunday, including three on Easter.  I find a place to sit about half way back on the left side of the main naive.  The pews are very old and, just like at St. Neot’s they are boxed in with an ample ledge to put bulletins and palm crosses.  They have converted the two side isles of the naive into a chapel and a glassed-off parish hall.   Service is about to begin and my nose and throat start reacting to the ancient mold or mildew. Things are flowing and I can’t stop coughing. I get up and go back into the church to try and find a bathroom or water.  

A distinguished man asks me what is wrong. I say a cough. A tall woman, who seems to be in the know, asks me what I need. I say 'water, please', and she disappears into the kitchen (right side by the parish hall/Vestry).  She returns quickly with water.  I drink it slowly and she asks if I want to take it back to the pew.  I decline, knowing I would probably spill it.  She takes the empty glass back into the kitchen and returns with a sleeve of lozenges.  She lets me keep it. A blessing.  Then the processional group, eight to twelve people, men/women/kids, including the young acolyte who gave me my bulletin and a crucifer, an older brother (?) has assembled and the gentleman, who offered help, turns out to be the Vicar, Rev’d Canon Dr. Jason Bray, in full albs/robes, etc., ready to process. I quickly return to my seat and the service starts.

The processional moves up the isle to the alter. The Rev’d makes opening statements and declares that Lent is now ended and we now move forward to Holy Weeks.  Palm crosses go into the right hand-take the bulletin for singing.   Starting with the front row, we progress to the back of the church, around to the chapel in the left naïve, across the front, through the vestry and back around enough times to complete all nine refrains and eight verses and of “All Glory, Laud and Honor”.  Once the excellent organist plays the introduction, we process and sing all of the hymn.  I can sing most of the hymn by heart, but in a higher key, my croaky throat starts to revolt around verse five.  I drop to the bass octave during the last part of the refrains “To whom the lips of children, made sweet hosannas ring”.  We end up back in our pews as if it had all been planned.

The service continues, with the readings: The prophecy of Isiah, Psalm 31 (read responsively), and then the Passion of St. Matthew.  Curate, Rev’d Marcus Pipe and a younger, tall, thin bald man read the Litergury, the Rev’d Dr. Bray reads Jesus, and the congregation—the crowd. It always moves me. Next are intercessions, prayers.  The only difference, I can tell, from Anglican to Episcopal is ‘Holy God, Holy and strong, Holy and immortal, Have mercy on us’ as the response.  The Peace is next, still a wave because of COVID.  The Offertory Hymn is My Song is Love Unknown—all seven verses.  Eucharist is sung—same call and response I am use to doing.  The Sanctus is different, but easy to join.  The Lord’s Prayer is the universal ‘trespass–trespasses’.  Communion, full with wafer and Challis (?!), is processed back around to the left naïve, across the front and down center aisle.  Each congregation everywhere have different end and mission prayers.  Recessional is a very relaxed (starts with a half note pick up), “Ride On! Ride on in Majesty’—all 5 verses.

After the hymn is finished, a young, bearded, knob-haired man (good singer) starts up a conversation with me.  He compliments me on my voice and I return the compliment. He asks why I’m in Wrexham.  I tell him.  He says he has been to an Ale House in Minera, if you’re into that.  There are good ones in Liverpool as well.  I tell him about the choir tour and the places I went to.  He tells me he belongs to a community singing group as well.  We walk out together.  He compliments the Rev’d Bray and talks with him. The Rev’d is a personable, friendly man. I introduce myself, telling him my story plus choir director, and he asks if I saw the match.  'Yes, as a matter of fact'.  I tell his about my good fortune and he repeats the final score.  We talk briefly and we exchange goodbyes. I walk up and out of the church yard—the bells are, again, glorious.  Such a beautiful worship and service experience.

2 April   Roast Dinner

Walking back to P.I., I pass La Baguette & Co. and decide where I am going to get an early dinner later this week.  I watch TV and by 14:00 (2:00 PM) I am hungry—for roast beef dinner.  I start looking through the restaurant list on the desk and then google it.  I decide on Plas Coch—it’s about 10-15 minute walk northeast off Mold Road.  I actually call and ask if 16:00 will be a good time and a woman tells me, in a low smoky voice that there is plenty of roast beef left and that time is fine.  I head out about 15:40 (3:40 PM) and walk up around the Racecourse and through the north parking lot. I am crossing into the Glyndwr University campus. It’s a small but nice set of buildings. I cross the roundabout at Plas Coch Road (B5101) and the Restaurant is right there.  I walk around to the front door and go in—before 16:00.  It is packed and humming. 

The hostess greets me and I immediately recognize her voice as the one who talked to me on the phone.  She takes me over to a raised area with lots a full tables and seats me at a two top.  She tells me the roast beef is all gone; the turkey is great.  After a very long time a hurried waiter stops by and I try to order a local beer on tap.  There is none, Marston’s, and I settle for a pint of Fosters.  He does not come back for 10 minutes.  I order turkey dinner and it take another age for the food to come—no pint.  I finally flag a young woman down and she tells the hostess who goes to the bar ten feet away and brings it right over.  Her comment is 'vague', about the waiter, Jack.  I eat leisurely and finish and my pint.  The plate is cleared—still no Jack or bill.  I see he has shifted duties and is a bar back, now.  I finally go over to the young woman who is at the ordering station/computer and ask for my bill.  She helps me when I ask to include a tip, not for Jack, but for everyone, since there are so busy.  I walk out, casually, enjoying the sunny and warm late afternoon.  The walk is pleasant.  I catch-up on journaling, TV and using the blow dryer to dry my sock and shirts.