Evensong at dusk; a full church, which happens normally only on high days and holidays; music provided by the wonderful Madding Crowd - a choir and small orchestra with its period music and instruments; and all of this followed by a ceilidh in the Manor Barn next door to the church. This was an event to remember. Revd. Giles Harris-Evans took the service and included in his sermon an interesting extract on the giving of tithes by the farming community, which was an integral part of the support of parish priests in days gone by. He also described at a little length the subsequent supper; it is difficult to believe people ate so much. So, further music by the Madding Crowd in the church and then off to our own supper next door... The Madding Crowd showed some stamina in playing and singing for us until well into the night, after which we all went home, tired and happy... Harvest is a time of thanks for our crops safely gathered in and this was a brilliant way to celebrate it.

Ian Johnston

'The Madding Crowd', says their website innocuously, 'researches and performs the church and secular music of the English village bands and choirs in the period 1660 to 1861.' They sure do. On a Sunday early in October, they invaded Buriton; took it by storm, you could say. That's to say, they came in strength - thirty or more hardy folk from Southampton and beyond - and in full fig, that's to say, wearing smocks, breeches, neckerchiefs, boots and the like. No prizes for guessing where their name comes from; the word 'hardy' in the previous sentence was no accident...

Because true to form, 'The Madding Crowd' (a crowd of singers, a band of instrumentalists including ... a serpent) gave the Buriton parish a treat both sacred and secular. Sacred, first: at 6, they packed the Parish Church for Evensong as it would have been sung and played in Hardy's time. Or nearly, anyway: St. Mary's doesn't quite boast a West Gallery where probably the little band would have been situated, accompanying the hymns, giving the parson his keynote, maybe even playing out the congregation with a final voluntary.’ The Madding Crowd' did all this and the iron voice of the mighty organ was indeed stilled for the evening; but instead the band sat in the chancel, with the singers. Hymns were taken at a lively pace, with charming little ritornellos between verses. And they sang a sonorous anthem on their own. The whole Evensong experience was lively, quaint, different. Rev Giles Harris-Evans ... entered into the spirit of things by reading chunks of Parson Kilvert's diary.

Then it was over to the splendid Manor Barn ... for the secular bit. 'The Madding Crowd' gave us a few more rustic vocal numbers, letting their hair down gently under their trim and seemly white bonnets, Giles said Grace, mountains of homely food and wine ... were consumed by a hundred hungry villagers ... and then came the climax: the ceilidh. Probably not a word familiar to the Sage of Dorchester, but T. Hardy would surely have recognised a Village Hop when he saw one. And written his daily thousand words about it. (There's probably a description in his novels somewhere but you need patience to trawl for it.) Dancers dohseedohed decorously, later swung their partners with increasing abandon and mostly managed to avoid treading on each others' feet. Perspiration flowed plentifully. A good time was had by all...

By the way: the whole jolly event raised nearly £1500. It will go towards the provision of disabled access at Buriton Church. Soon there will be one less excuse for absence.