St Mary Magdalen's has been--and continues to be--a home away from home for so many of us. This is mainly because we have found a sense of family there, but even the building and fabric of the church have embraced us in homely fashion. We come--week after week; perhaps more--and wear down the same spots on the same pews, resting on the same kneelers, elbows rested on familiar wood. Here, we break bread and drink wine, not to mention prosecco; we grieve at funerals and celebrate at weddings and birthdays and ordinations and the great feasts of the Church. 

Well, it's time for Mags to have her wiring redone and her roof fixed. The electrics are basically jury-rigged out of used beer cans, just a little while after Augustine arrived in Canterbury. The roof is made of papier mache, by one of Noah's grandchildren. True story.