Muker

Given its slightly unattractive name, conjuring in my mind train carriages full of men snorting into checked pocket handkerchieves, (it’s the echo of mucous that does it for me), Muker in Swaledale is a surprisingly pretty little town. We walked there and after lunch at the pub, I went to visit the church. You can see it on the left in this picture, which looks very badly composed but is actually taken in the only way possible to avoid including various bits of street signage - T junction notices, et cetera - which, as so often, seem to have been placed in such a way as to deliberately clutter up any otherwise beautiful vista of old buildings:

The church was open, at least for humans -  sadly its administration does not seem in the business of encouraging a feathered flock, however eager they may be to be included:

Inside there was little decoration, but there was this welcoming prayer, (provided you aren't a bird):

and, for those of us not very good at committing things to memory, there were these helpful reminders:

I was touched by the decoration of this memorial plaque - the rather dull scrolls and books were presumably the things that took up the workday life of its subject, a benevolent and kind land agent, full of integrity and industry. I admire the family for resisting the temptation to put anything more glorious up there and I rather wish one could have such confidence in the real estate agents of London:

There was a pretty window, although I don't suppose it could be described as anything special, (I have an idea that there is quite a lot of snobbery regarding stained glass around but I am usually grateful if it merely avoids abstraction):

What I loved best in the church though was the gallery of former and present clergy. There is a pattern of change visible as you go through them. And those who snigger at the name of the vicar who looked after Muker's flock between 1935 to 1950 should feel very ashamed of themselves:

The expression of the Reverend Abrahams makes me wonder if the years between 1959 and 1965 were not as jolly as they might have been. The next vicar to appear is the Reverend DD Martin and he is the one I might choose to be in the flock of. He looks as though he might have been an antidote to the Abrahams years.

I wonder if anyone else has a preference for any particular vicar's era based on the pictures of the respective vicars involved? The more I look at them, the more I think I will stick with the Reverend DD Martin.