Occasionally I get coerced into attending our village church (or kirk as they are known in Scotland). Since it is very close, is rather a good old building, has a very good minister with a great sense of humour and a not very good organist, which is why she needs one, and has a Pictish cross in the churchyard which is at least 1500 years old, it is usually a pleasant experience.

I should add, for the sake of completeness, that being Church of Scotland, the services have a simplicity and sincerity and usually brevity about them which I appreciate. Since the Church of England abandoned the King James Bible and became infested with happy clappers, even the most ardent followers of the Anglican tradition find it hard to stomach. Although I would dearly prefer a decent church organ and the occasional sung psalm, if you live out in the sticks you have to take what you can get, and the village church is taken all in all, a pretty good deal.

Today however was one of those services taken by another local minister. A splendid chap I have no doubt, sincere, dedicated and learned, but frankly boring. Now I judge my clerics on two basic criteria. Firstly can they preach and secondly how long they take to do so. Brevity, is a quality much to be admired and if accompanied by wit, an obvious conviction, and a delivery which encourages and entertains rather than exhorts or excludes are great qualities in a cleric. Our own minister rates very highly on all these counts but today's chap did not, and when every hymn chosen had at least six verses and, thanks to the organist, a tune that was somewhat uncertain, then one's mind naturally wanders from the whole process.

But, whatever his shortcomings, and I am sure that mine are much greater, the minister today was able to inspire in me at least, a feeling that the visit to church was not entirely wasted. While he was droning on with his interminable sermon he did manage to intersperse on quite good joke to the effect that someone, I think he said an Indian, but whether red or the other kind I didn't catch, once made the comment that he would be much more inclined to believe in the Christian faith if christians themselves looked as if they had been saved.

At which point I must admit to almost a chuckle - quickly stifled of course so as not to upset the sensitivities of some of our more dour parishioners. The sun was shining through the stained glass and suddenly the world became less seriously religious and more human. There's hope for us sinners yet it seems.