Although many serious things do happen at Scargill, we wouldn’t be what we are without fun, laughter and joy – and we don’t believe God wants us to be without these things either.
by Helen Brocklehurst
A few years ago, the first time we met
we had a fight that I’ll never forget.
A family tradition, a springtime delight,
you taught me the art of the Rhubarb Fight:
Rhubarb swords are selected for stoutness and size,
a dislodged leaf is the winner’s prize.
We paced then we turned to let battle commence,
using our rhubarb to parry and fence.
You broke my rhubarb in ten seconds flat,
taking my leaf as your victory hat.
Last year in summer we crossed stalks once more;
at last I managed to even the score
but spring ’17 saw our final contest
when you proved beyond doubt that you are the best.
We chose our weapons and rhubarb in hand
you were suddenly fearsome as you took your stand.
We charged into battle with rhubarb held high,
“For crumble and custard,” was our battle cry.
Soon my leaf was your hat; to the sound of applause
I had to concede that the victory’s yours.
That time the Community went bowling
Our first delivery to the Biomass Boiler (affectionately known as Baldwin!)
Who could possibly forget the day everything stopped so we could play in the snow …