All language subtitles for A.Month.in.the.Country.1987.720p.BDRip.x264.DD.SRT-EA

- Billy!

Billy.

Billy.

Shut the door.

Oxgodby!

- You've gotta be
rearing soaked.

Right down to the
skin, they say.

- Ticket please!

Hey, you can borrow me
umbrella if thou wants.

- What?

- I said you can
borrow me umbrella.

- Oh, that's all right.

I'm not going far.

- Cup of tea then,
in the station house?

- Thank you, but I
have an appointment.

- Aye, I know.

You've come to the
church, haven't ya?

Well, if you don't find what
you're looking for there,

come and see us
other lot at chapel.

- Thank you.

Bugger it!

- What were you doing?

Just now, outside?

- Oh, checking the rain
gutters, the downpipes.

- Why?

- Because if they were no good,
there would've been no point

in my bothering to come in.

It would have been
destroyed, you see?

- Oh, well, if you'd
waited to ask me,

I could've told you they're
all functioning perfectly.

You could've saved
yourself a run in the rain.

I'm Keach, by the way.

Reverend J. G. Keach.

It was I who wrote you.

If you're Mr. Birkin, that is.

I take it you are.

- Yes.

- At what time did
you leave London?

- 11 o'clock.

- I see that in your anxiety
to check the gutters,

you didn't take time to
drop your things off?

Where do you intend to stay?

- Well I thought here.

- Here?

Where here?

- What about the belfry?

- The belfry?

I can't say that appeals to me,
having somebody live in the belfry.

Shouldn't you take lodgings,
a room in the Shepherd's Arms.

- I'm a bit short, you see?

- Oh, I see.

Well then, in that case.

But I should warn
you that ropes pass

through the belfry floor
when Mossop rings them.

- I don't mind.

- Very well then.

What period is it supposed to be,
the mural, the wall painting?

- Oh, I would guess about
1430 or something like that.

The survivors avoided hellfire by
donating wall paintings to churches.

It's impossible to say
for sure but of course

'til I've uncovered some of it.

- In any case about 1430.

We shan't entertain any extras.

- There won't be any.

- There mustn't be any.

Now you've agreed a
fee of 25 guineas,

12 pounds, 10 shillings
to be paid halfway

and 13 pound 15 shillings when
finished and approved by the executives.

- Not by you?

- Miss Hebron omitted my
name from the form requested,

an oversight, of course, but
to all intents and purposes,

I represent the executives.

You answer to them through me.

I shan't mind if
you touch it up.

- Touch it up?

- Well, it's faded.

You can fill them in as
long as it's appropriate.

Turns in with the rest.

- Turns in with the rest?

Of course it isn't absolutely
sure that there's anything there.

- Of course there's
something there.

Mr. Birkin, you should
know here and now

that your employment here
does not have my support,

but as the solicitors
refused to pay out

her 1000 pound request
to our fabric fund

until your job is
finished, I have no choice.

When the painting is uncovered,

it will be in full view
of the congregation.

It'll distract from worship.

- After a time, they
won't notice it.

- It'll distract.

Well, Mr. Birkin, I shall leave
you to settle into your quarters.

Good night.

- Oxgodby.

- Morning.

Hi, good morning, James Moon.

I'm chap in the bell tent.

It's in the field opposite.

I meant to let you settle in

but I felt I had to come
and have a look at you.

Well, it's partly that, but really
'cause I get so stiff in the night,

my legs force me up.

That's how I stumble
across most mornings

to see if Leticia's managed
to climb out during the night.

Well, I mean, you
never know, do you?

Oh, most loving and
delightful wife.

I could never make out if
that was grief or relief.

Do you mind if I
come up for a moment?

I won't if you
think I'm invading.

- Come up.

- Good.

So, you think that's
something there?

I hope so.

- Go with it by hope.

What do you think you'll find?

- Judgment, I expect.

Yes, yes, a judgment.

Yes, that's what it
would be, wouldn't it?

- The judgements always
got the plum spot

so the whole parish
could see the

God awful things that
would happen to 'em

if they didn't fork
out their tithes

and marry the girls
they got with child.

- St. Michael waves over,
Christ in majesty reverie,

and down below the fire,
the flame, of evermore?

Look, why don't you come over and
have a cup of tea before you start?

Come on, you got
the whole summer.

Spin out the anticipation another
half an hour, why don't you?

Come on.

So officially I'm looking for the
grave of Miss Hebron's forbearer,

one Piers Hebron, born 1373.

He was excommunicated,
buried somewhere outside the graveyard

so all I have to do is spend
three or four weeks digging

for his bones and if I can't find him...
- You'll have wasted your time.

- Wasted my time?

Good God, man, can't you see?

I'm not here for Piers' bones.

I'm here for a major discovery.

We're standing on a basilica.

Saxon chapel, probably
goes back to 600.

I've already come across a
couple of cremation jars.

There must be hundreds of them.

Oh, you'll keep quiet
about it though, won't you?

I didn't want anyone to
tumble to what I'm up to

until I've got all I
want and written it up.

- So you're doing one job
and being paid for another?

- Well, that's right.

Why not, if it's
money well spent?

And I'll leave some time to prod
around for Piers's bones before I go.

I'll find them, don't you worry.

Oh

You were over there too.

That's where you developed
your twitch and stammer.

Well, I developed a great
affection for holes.

They make me feel safe.

And they keep me insulated.

Here, have a look at this.

It's my latest cremation jar.

- Moon.

- Morning, Colonel,
morning, Mossop.

The Colonel is Miss
Hebron's brother.

Mossop looks after the church.

This is Mr. Birkin who's
come to uncover the painting.

Good.

Well done.

And what about you,
Moon, making progress?

Any sign of old
Piers' bones yet?

- Not yet, Colonel.

- Found anything
out of the ordinary?

Gold or silver?

Jugs and jars, et cetera?

- Well, I wish I had.

- Press on, let me know.

Stay as long as you like.

Care to umpire for
us on Saturdays?

Mossop here says he can't manage
any longer on account of his legs.

Well, would've liked
to lodge up with you.

Another morning, perhaps.

I shall be on my way.

Things to do.

So, Mossop, there's your
umpiring taken care of.

Very similar.

- Thou found summat then?

- Oh, just the usual
artifacts, Mossop.

There.

- Yes, well he isn't out
of the usual catalog is he?

He's a real wintry hard
liner, your Christ.

All justice and no mercy.

I wouldn't fancy being in
the dock if he was the beat.

And he shall come with the woundes
red to damn the quick and the dead.

- Now hear the words of Jesus to
lead us and encourage us in prayer.

Then shall the King say
unto them on his right hand,

come ye blessed of my father,

inherit the kingdom prepared for
you from the foundation of the world

for I was anhungered
and He gave me meat.

I was thirsty and
He gave me drink.

I was a stranger and He took
me in naked and He clothed me.

I was sick and He visited me.

I was in prison.

- Look behind you, Keach.

He came unto me.

- That's what you're praying to.

Then shall the righteous answer Him
saying- - He doesn't want your prayers.

He wants some answers.

Did you feed the hungry?

And thirsty and gave me drink.

Did you give
drink to the thirsty?

I say unto you,
come ye blessed of my father.

Did you clothe
the naked and needy?

Have the
kingdom prepared for you.

What about me?

Any of you offer
me bed and board?

Stranger and took thee in,
all naked- - Smug Yorkshire lot.

I'll have a word with him about
the way you've treated me.

He'll get you yet.

- The King shall answer and say unto them,
verily, I say unto you,

in as much as ye have done it unto
one of the least of these, my brethren,

you have done it unto me.

- Hello there, Mr. Birkin.

- Hello.

- I'm Kathy Ellerbeck and
this me brother, Edgar.

Our dad's station master.

We brought you rabbit pie 'cause
Mum says you need nourishment.

- Thank you.

- Our dad said you must be miserable
working all day on your own up there

so he said we could play
you some records, didn't he?

- Can we come up now?

- Sorry no one's allowed up.

That's an absolute rule.

- What about Mr. Moon?

Mr. Mossop said you let him up?

- Well, we have a
reciprocal agreement.

He looks at my work
and I look at his.

- Can we stay down here then?

- As long as you don't mind
my turning my back on you.

Why do you want to?

- Me dad says you're
an opportunity

that might not come again
in a little spot like this.

Watching an artist at work.

- I'm not an artist.

I'm just a laborer who
cleans up after artists.

- We have a picture painted on
our chapel wall, behind the pulpit.

Three big lilies.

It's very beautiful.

Why?

- Why what?

- Why lilies?

Why just lilies?

I mean, why not lilies
and roses or just roses.

Or roses and daisies?

- 'Cause around it, it says
conceded lilies in official lettering.

It's a text.

Consider lilies, how they
grow, they toil not, you know?

- Well, why couldn't they
look at roses or daisies?

- Oh, I don't know.

- Oh, this is very nice.

From the station master's wife?

- Her children brought it.

- And what has the Reverend
J.G. Keach brought you?

- Nothing.

- No money yet?

Oh, by the way you said
something the other day

about longing for a woodbine.

Well look what I
dug up this morning.

- Thanks.

- Well.

I shall see you anon.

Oh, I'm sorry, did I wake you?

- That depends on
whether I'm awake or not.

You been here long?

- Maybe 10 minutes,
I'm not sure.

I'm Alice Keach.

I just came to find
out if you're all right

in the bell loft or if
there's anything you needed.

It seems so inhospitable, you
up there on the floorboards

and we in our beds.

We've got to traveling rug.

- No, I'm all right.

At the end of the day,
I'm so tired I sleep sleep like the dead.

And during the
day sometimes too.

- Oh, well.

- He's working off his cramp.

- Oh.

The painting, when will we
be able to see all of it.

- Well, I don't know.

It's a bit like a jigsaw.

A face, a shoe here
a bit, there a bit.

Comes together very slowly.

If it comes together at all.

And of course after
500 years I can't be sure.

- But that's the
exciting part, isn't it?

Not knowing what's
around the corner.

Like opening a
parcel at Christmas.

So you must let me see it.

Anyway, I'll haunt you
a little until you do.

- You related to the Reverend
J.G. Keach, the vicar?

- Yes, I'm his wife.

Mrs. Keach.

Mr. Moon.

- She's a stunner, isn't she?

- Is she?

- Of course she is!

And you know it.

Come on, admit you do.

- Oh, I admit it.

Perhaps she wouldn't.

Perhaps she doesn't
even know it.

- Rubbish, every woman
knows if she's beautiful

and imagine Keach catching
her of all people.

You're married too, aren't you?

- Sort of.

She went off another chap.

Not for the first time.

Can't say I blame her really.

Her name's Finny.

- Yes, thought it might
be something like that.

As for me, never really
met the right woman.

Luckily for her.

- That's all for
today, Mr. Birkin.

- Right.

- Mum and Dad say you got
to come to dinner on Sunday.

- What?

- You're coming to
dinner on Sunday.

- Oh, thank you.

- Mr. Douthwaite'll be
coming and all, blacksmith.

Comes most Sundays.

- Right, well, thank you.

Oh, what time?

- 11 o'clock, of course.

11 o'clock?

- Yeah, chapel, it starts at 11.

- Brethren and fellow
sinners, yea sinners!

I say sinners for are we
all not here unto sinners.

Is there one amongst you here
who can say he is not a sinner?

Is there?

If so, I challenge him to
come forward and speak.

- Lord, well, what
it boils down to Lord

is that we'd like to
accept with thanks

and we'd like you to know that as
we sit down to dinner today, we all eat

with great loving heart and gratitude
for we know Lord that without thee,

we wouldn't have a dinner.

And furthermore, we wouldn't
be here in first place.

- My father was a
butcher, Mr. Birkin.

- It's Balatton Ferry for
me this afternoon, Mother.

- Does it have to be you?

But you're tired out.

You should be lying down,
not doing that long walk in the sun.

- Last time you went,
you came back all faint.

Didn't he, Mum?

- Yea, I'd do it for thee, Jack,
thou knows but I promised to teach Bible

at Grimsley Sunday School.

- No, it's all right, George.

I'll manage.

- Mr. Birkin here'll go for ya.

Won't ya, Mr. Birkin?

- What?

Go where?

- We'll show ya.

- Well, what do ya say?

- Well, there's no denying that
Mr. Birkin's legs are younger than mine.

- You wouldn't mind going,
would you Mr. Birkin?

- To do what?

- Just a bit of preaching.

- I've never
preached in my life.

- Well, you heard
me this morning.

Just do that.

- Yes.

Just do what Dad does.

- Brethren.

And fellow sinners.

My sermon today derives.

Derives.

Look here, I only came in place of
Mr. Ellerbeck today because he's-

He's indisposed.

I can't preach.

So all I can do is tell you
about what I'm up to in Oxgodby

in the church there.

And if you want to leave or nod off,
then that's all right by me.

Well, I'm cleaning the wall, the one
above the nave because behind the dirt

and the layers of paint,
there's a picture.

So there I am, you see,
up on my scaffolding

scraping away until I get
back to the picture itself.

It's really all patience,
you see, my sort of work.

But I don't get
any second chances.

That's what makes
it so exciting.

One dab too few and some poor chap
won't get back from five centuries ago,

one dab too many and
wiped him out forever.

Makes me sound rather
like God, doesn't it?

Well, really I'm just a
servant like every one of us

except I'm the servant
of the painter.

I hope I'm good enough
to serve this painter

because he deserves the
very best of servants.

- You from London
are ya, Mr. Birkin?

- Yes.

London, that's right.

- We've never met
a Londoner before.

- You're the first, Mr. Birkin.

- Oh.

- You were over there, were you?

Mr. Birkin, in France.

- So was our Perc.

He had it taken on his last
leave, on his 19th birthday.

- He was a right good lad, Perc.

Real worker.

He'd give hand to anybody.

Everybody liked him.

Well, would you like to look
at the farm, Mr. Birkin?

- Yes, Lucy, why don't you
show Mr. Birkin round the farm?

- Would you like to see around?

- We can't.

We've gotta visit Emily Clough.

We promised her.

And we told our Sunday school
teacher we'd take her her star card.

- Emily Clough?

- We said we'd bring you at all.

She's expecting ya, innit she?

- Aye.

- Oh, well perhaps
another Sunday.

- Mrs.
- Clough, we've come to bring Emily some flowers.

- Go on up.

On the way out you
can have a jam tart.

- I brought ya your
star card, Emily.

Mr. Douthwaite
stamped it S for sick.

He says count so many stars.

You only need six more
stars for a prize.

- Oh, S is for sick.

- I've been thinking
about my prize.

I'd like "Forgotten Garden".

What are you two having?

- "Pearl Island" and Edgar's having
"The Children of the New Forest".

- Isn't that a bit beyond him?

- He'll grow to like it later.

I've heard it's a good
story with two girls in it.

Mr. Birkin's the man
living in church, Emily.

- Oh, I've heard about you.

I hope you'll still be there
when I'm up, Mr. Birkin.

I like your straw hat, Kathy.

Can I try it on?

She knows
she's dying, don't she?

Hello Kathy.

Is Mr. Birkin here as good
as your dad at the preaching?

- Well, he didn't
really do no preaching.

Just talked about his
painting, didn't he?

- He did and all.

- You feeling all
right, Mr. Birkin?

You've hardly touched your tea.

He had his tea at Lucy Sykes'.

She's a
fine strong girl is Lucy Sykes.

That's right,
good Christian upbringing too.

Time we asked her to the
Sunday School outing, Father?

- Aye, aye, I
meant to last year.

- Please excuse me.

I must get back.

- It's that Lucy Sykes.

He's been funny ever
since he saw her.

- God, what God?

There is no God!

I don't really want "Roses of
Picardy" this morning if you don't mind.

- Well, will you accept
my traveling rug?

- Oh.

Sorry, I thought you
were someone else.

- Yes, I know Kathy Ellerbeck
and that gramophone.

Now you'll have
to let me come up.

That was our agreement.

May I?

Mr. Moon was saying that he
was sure you wouldn't let me.

You wanted to keep
it all to yourself.

But this is horrible.

It's horrible.

It's it's like a sort of hell.

- It's probably not so
horrible if you believed in it.

- Do you believe in it?

- When I look at it when I'm working on it,
I believe in his belief.

It's impossible not to, really.

- But otherwise you don't
believe there's a hell?

- Well, I suppose hell means
different things to different people.

- What does it mean to you?

- Hell on earth, I think?

- Yes, of course.

Although I don't
really understand.

How could I?

Why should you?

- Well, I suppose
one should try.

- No you shouldn't,
I'd rather you didn't.

- Were you always in the
cleaning business, Mr. Birkin?

- My father traveling soap.

- Thank you.

For letting me see.

Hello.

- I came to see your
husband but he isn't-

- Oh, he wouldn't
be able to hear you.

He's playing right at
the end of the house.

You haven't been
here before have you?

We have it all to ourselves.

Most of the rooms are empty,
you see, completely empty.

This one and this one.

It can be quite oppressive.

Gives me nightmares sometimes,
well, the same nightmare really,

that the trees are closing in and
there are only the walls to stop them.

I just found Mr. Birkin on the doorstep,
but you couldn't hear the bell.

- No, I suppose not.

At least, I didn't hear it.

- We don't have many
visitors, you see.

- No, one gets out of the
habit of listening for them.

- I was just saying
to Mr. Birkin,

such a big house for
the two of us, isn't it?

- Yes, yes it is, really.

- And the rooms, we don't
know how to fill them, do we?

- No, no, that's true.

- Except for that.

At least it's big enough.

We don't know what it
is or what it does.

It seems to be part
of something else.

My husband's father bought
it in an auction sale

because nobody else wanted it.

To help fill up the
room, didn't he?

- That's right, he did.

- I just came to sort out
the question of my money.

- The money.

I suppose you brought
a receipt, Mr. Birkin.

- A receipt?

- For the money.

I sent Mossop with your
installment this morning.

Didn't he give it to you?

- We must've passed each other.

- Well, perhaps you'd like
to see the rest of the house?

- Thank you, I have
to get back to work.

- Did you come by the wood?

- No, the road.

- Well, I'll show you
the way through the wood.

- When are you going to
show my wife the painting.

She's very anxious to see it.

- Oh, I've already seen it.

- Have you?

I haven't realized.

- These are my roses.

I spend a lot of time on then.

But I don't know why,

because there really isn't
anyone to look at them but me.

This is a Van Fleet.

Very old variety.

Mind the sharp thorns.

They keep blooming until autumn
so you'll know when summer's ended

because I usually wear
one of the last in my hat.

- This beautiful,
a kind of paradise.

- Look.

- Many men would say that you
were beautiful, Mrs. Keach.

- Oh.

- Yes, well, that's what comes
of believing in paradise.

- Oh.

- Look at this.

Have you ever seen a detail
like this in a medieval painting?

Anticipates the
Bruegels by 100 years.

That face meant
something to him.

It's a portrait, must be.

And he was covered over
years before the rest.

- It's the crescent.

One could swear he was almost
meant to be identifiable.

Would he have
dared, your painter?

And what was he like?

You must know him
pretty well by now.

- I can't even
put a name to him.

He hasn't signed it.

Why would he, our idea of person
may have meant nothing to him.

But he was fair-haired and I know
that from hairs that keep turning up

where his beard
prodded into the paint.

He was right handed,
about your build.

And he needed a step ladder
to get up to six foot.

The weird thing is, he didn't
finish the job himself.

See this bit here?

It's a rough job, fill in.

Probably done by his apprentice.

I cannot imagine why.

Just when his nose was
past the finishing post.

And he knew this
was his great work.

You can feel it, can't you?

Everything he'd done before
was just a run up to this.

He sweated here.

Tossed in his bed.

Groaned, howled over it.

And he shall come
with woundes red?

Well done.

- Moon, he fell!

That's why he didn't finish it.

It was his last job, he fell!

Oh, well you better
watch it then?

But Mr. Birkin, you've
a real eye for quality.

That anybody can tell.

We want the best there is.

- What's more to the point, Mr. Birkin,
is we want best we can afford.

- Look at this lot.

- Well I'm no great
musician, Mr. Birkin.

I'll freely admit that,

but there's one thing I do
know about and that's wind.

Jack, no.

- What do you think, Mr. Birkin?

- Well, this one vibrates.

- That's right, that it does.

- And that one smells odd.

- Then this is the one
we test to the limit.

Kathy, lass.

- Go and quiet him.

He's gonna make that
din for, Mr. Birkin.

- Excuse me.

- I must prefer
the jollier hints.

I was impressed, Jack.

There's a deep resonance
of its bass notes,

I think you'll
agree with me there.

- Aye, sound as a bell.

Now that, Mr. Birkin, was music.

- Beautiful.

That's it then.

We'll have the Albudeck.

- Any discount for cash down?

- Aye, a couple of quid
off for cash in hand.

- Good man.

- And to include
delivery of course.

Where to?

- Oxgodby.
- Chapel.

- Good day.
- Good day.

- Actually, I'd quite like to have
a look at the church a moment.

Come on, come on.

- See thee later.

- Excuse me, you
here from Oxgodby?

- Yes, but just visiting.

- Have you bumped into a
chap called Moon over there?

James Moon, digging up
some fields or summat?

- Yes I have.

- And is he a stocky fair-haired
sorta chap, smiles a lot?

- That's pretty well him, yes.

- A captain in the
18th Norfolk Artillery?

That clinches it then.

Must be the same chap.

Would you give him
a salute from me?

- Of course.

- And all the other officers
in the 18th Norfolk.

The ones who didn't sit
out the last six months

of the war in a glass
house, like our hero did.

For buggering his batman.

- Want some milk?

- No.

Thanks.

- It agrees with
you, doesn't it?

- What does?

- Oxgodby.

Since you've been here,
they've almost gone,

your twitch, tremor and stammer.

- Yes, I suppose they have.

Hadn't noticed.

- What about the
vicar's lovely lady?

You seen anything of her?

- No, not really.

- Oh, pity.

- Is it?

- No, not really.

Better off without
it, aren't we?

We want an easy life.

- Well, here's to an easy life.

All right, all right.

Come on, Dan, I'll
buy you a pint.

- I have wanted it to happen.

There were times when
I'd just had enough.

Well, you know that.

So many had gone.

Chaps I cared for.

Sometimes it seemed like
they were the lucky ones.

Night's a bad time.

I expect you've heard me.

I still wake up screaming.

I can still see them.

Still see.

And I tell myself it'll
get better as time passes

and it sinks further back.

But it's got nowhere
to sink to, has it?

We'll always be
different, won't we?

The whole lot of us,
all the millions of us that survived.

If millions did.

Different, I mean, from the
generations who went before

who had no idea that anything
like that could ever happen.

I don't know if it's worse not
having something to show for it

like a lost limb or
two or blindness.

I mean, people like you
and me, the intact ones.

Worst part for me was
the last six months

when I was kept away
from the fighting.

Went for months without
seeing a single corpse.

Faces that I did see

passed.

A little bit round
the bend, you know?

Always will be, I expect.

Still, no point in letting
it get one down?

One has one's life to lead.

And then he shall come
with woundes red?

To damn the quick and the dead.

- You got a Military
Cross, didn't you?

I saw it in your tent.

- I did.

There go the chapel lot again.

Once they buy
themselves a new organ.

- Well, what is it?

- Either a boulder deep
than it ought to be

or the lid of a stone
coffin, perhaps.

Do you know what this is for?

Isn't it exciting?

Digging where someone must've
dug 5, 600 years ago?

Well, you're spoiled of course.

You clean a wall and
uncover a masterpiece.

Turn over the earth and
expect to find a pot of gold.

But we diggers, we
keep our palates fresh.

Miles of deviation of tinge is
all we need to stir the blood.

Haven't you noticed that
you're throwing up soil

that should've been
three spits deeper.

Thank you.

Horn button, 15th
century, right on target.

- Well, come on, is
it Piers or isn't it?

- I of all men,
the most wretched.

They really had it in for
the poor devil, didn't they?

Wonder why.

Oh, well, I suppose
we shall never know.

Come on, let's take a look.

Third rib down.

So Piers was a Muslim.

A Muslim in Oxgodby.

He must've got caught up in
some medieval crusade, I suppose.

Converted to save his skin.

Imagine the ruction
when he turned up here,

and was still
worshiping to the east.

Well, no wonder they buried
him outside the churchyard.

Well, well, both our
mysteries solved.

- It was the same
mystery wasn't it?

- Mossop told me you'd finished.

I can see you have.

Very good.

In accordance with the
executives' wishes,

here's the final payment
of Miss Hebron's estate.

13 pound 15 shillings,
as was agreed.

- What do you think of it?

- Well, it's there.

So you've done the job you're
contracted for and now you've been paid.

- Thank you.

Of course I'll need the
scaffolding for several more days.

- Why?

- Because I haven't finished.

- What remains to be done?

- That's for me to decide.

- I shall have the
scaffolding removed.

- Oh will you?

Then I shall inform
the executives

that you prevented me
from completing my work,

which will leave them
with the obligation

to contribute 1000 pounds to
your fabric fund, won't it?

- I should not wish to
quarrel with you, Mr. Birkin.

I know how you see me, Mr.
Birkin, the way you want to.

You've never thought what it's
like for a man like me, have you?

The English are not a
deeply religious people.

Most of those who attend divine
service do so only from habit.

Their acceptance of the
sacrament is perfunctory.

I've yet to meet the man whose
hair rose at the nape of his neck,

because he was about to taste
the blood of his dying Lord.

Will I find such
a man in Oxgodby?

Even when they come to my
church in large numbers

at harvest, Thanksgiving, or
Christmas, midnight masses,

it's really a pagan salute to
the passing of the seasons.

They do not need me.

They merely find me useful.

Baptisms, weddings, funerals,
oh, chiefly funerals,

because I see to the orderly
disposal of their dead.

But I'm embarrassing you.

And embarrassing people
is a grave sin, is it not?

If you could let me know when I
might have the scaffolding dismantled.

- I hear you've finished.

- Yes.

- I brought you some
apples to say goodbye with.

- Thank you.

- They're Ribston Pippins.

They do very well up here.

Exactly the right
soil and climate.

Lots of other varieties
don't take though.

- You're an expert on
apples too, are you?

- I am.

My father taught me.

Before he bit into one,

he'd sniff it and roll it
around and his cupped palms

and he'd smell his hands and
he'd tap and finger it like a blind man.

Sometimes he'd ask
me to close my eyes

and when I'd taken a
bite, say which apple.

So.

So this is where you've
been living all this time.

And there's Mr. Moon.

- Yes.

He's dug up the bones he
was commissioned to dig up.

Turned up an Anglo-Saxon
basilica in the process.

Basilica's what he
really came for.

Knew it was here.

- So you've both found
what you came to find.

- Well, I-

- Well, I'm glad.

Oh.

Your book.

- Hello?

Mr. Birkin?

Mr. Birkin!

- Letter for you.

Postman asked me to bring it in.

- Thank you.

It's from my wife, Finny.

Probably wants us
to start over again.

She usually does.

- And will you?

- I usually do.

So, where are you off to?

- Basra Baghdad.

Big dig going on over there.

Like to get in on it.

Right.

What about you?

- Oh, I don't know.

Wait for another
church, I suppose.

- You'll never get
another one like this.

- I know.

Been a summer, hasn't it?

- So, anyway.

Well...

Hello
there, Mr. Birkin.

I'm Kathy Ellerbeck!