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The blessing of children

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We were at a christening recently – a Danish christening. We couldn’t understand a word but warmth and blessing filled the church. The pews on both sides were filled with the families of the two babies being christened, each family surrounded by its share of friends and godparents, with many of them bringing along children of their own.

Mayhem you might mutter … but it wasn’t. The mood was settled and quiet, and  the children calm at its core. Over-disciplined you might suggest, but we could see no sign of that. Aha! On screens you say. But you’re wrong. They weren’t, or at least not that we could see.

If there was any secret it seemed to be that everyone was happy to be there. So was the priest. His eyes shone with pleasure from start to finish, and he tailored his address to suit both the parents and the children in his audience.

The service lasted about an hour, and then we headed from the church to lunch, and still the mood held. In fact gentle calm seemed to reign until the sun went down.

Perhaps I was missing something. Perhaps the sample for my non-scientific assessment was too small. Perhaps it was too selective … although the parents and families of the two babies being christened didn’t even know each other. Perhaps it was just the luck of the day. Perhaps.

But I’ve come away thinking that the Danes have a way with children, and it works. What is it? I’m not sure but it seems to include a lot of love, a lot of family support, a lot of good nurseries, and a lot of parental leave for both parents.

Must be worth a try.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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After the storm

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This morning, with the clouds sailing like great ships above us, we drove north from Cornwall. The county had just been battered by storm Ciarán, and it felt as if it was still trying to shake the wet and the wind from its coat.

The photograph above was taken just after the sun had risen. It was a bruised dawn but it turned into a beautiful day. In front of us lay the sea, green-blue and whipped with white horses, while behind us turbines and seagulls span across the sky. This was their kind of day. They danced with the elements, while we clung like limpets to the ground.

The further we drove the drier the land became. The rivers shrank, and the light gleamed, with rainbows arcing across the fields.

Now we are back, and I cannot hear the waves but I can still imagine them, and the families and dogs that will be blowing across the sand beside them.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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In praise of pubs

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Leaves falling, storm threatening, and a venture into a valley unexplored in search of a pub – we’d been given the name and not much else.

It was mid-week and quiet when we pushed open the door, but a few of the regulars were in and others coming and going. We found a corner, and ordered some lunch. There we sat, like strange stones in a new river watching its life flow past. It was still and peaceful – a proper quiet pint. A place to be.

On the way out we spoke to the man on the next door table savouring the last of his pint.

“Great place this.”

He nodded.

“Sad we’re losing so many of our pubs, our real pubs.”

He nodded.

“Places like this feel like they’ve got proper roots.”

He nodded, then added: “Won’t know what they’ve lost until it’s gone.”

We nodded.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023