Original text by Fr. Boswell, the founder of Our Lady of Light

A SHORT HISTORY

In 1965 there existed beside the Recreation Ground at Long Crendon an acre of farm land consisting of a wheat field, an apple orchard, a rose garden and well, and a cottage appropriately named: "Prospect Villa" as it enjoyed a lovely view across the vale of Risborough. Beside the cottage was a barn that had once been a chapel. This was offered to the Catholics of Long Crendon in 1963 as a Mass Centre but it took two years of persistent applications before planning permission was granted to convert the barn into a place of worship. When permission came through, the price of the barn had more than doubled. While we were recovering from the shock, the good lady of Prospect Villa died and left the property to her three children who promptly obtained planning permission to convert the small holding into a building plot for 6 units -thus rocketing the value of the property way beyond our reach,

When prospects were at their lowest ebb, it happened that Harold Wilson, then Prime Minister, introduced into Parliament a Capital Gains Tax. The three were advised by their solicitor to sell before the tax came into force, so they sold the property at its agricultural value. To our delight and surprise, instead of a barn, we found ourselves - with a £5,000 donation from Provost Davidson of Beaconsfield and £1,500 from Paul Grisewood - purchasing a Villa for £6,250. Then a second surprising event occured. The Agricultural College at Moulton, Northampton, wanted an exhibition and lecture hall. The design of it was put out to competition and was won by Crendon Concrete. Their design was a twelve sided hall with a frame of pre-stressed concrete piers bonded together by a crown. When the hall was completed, Crendon Concrete was left with the steel moulds on their hands.

John Butler was their master mason and General Manager of their Stores.   He was, also, the king-pin of the Committee that had been formed to start the Mass Centre.   He instantly realised the possibilities of the steel moulds. After all, a church includes the functions of an exhibition and lecture hall. If another set of piers were to be cast he would have the makings of a church. He put the proposition to the firm. When they learned the proposed church was for their own village the firm was only too delighted to help. In the outcome they cast two sets of piers with the crown and the panel-frames. The whole was erected at cost price which came to a little more than £2,000. We were on our way.

In September '67 it took just a fortnight to place the frame in position in box-concrete and thus it stood exposed to the elements for the next three years. The work of clearing the ground, converting the farm-cottage into a presbytery, and cladding the church frame fell to a group of volunteers, hardly ever more then three at a time, under John's able leadership. They worked only in the late evenings and on Saturdays, winter and summer. Building equipment, often of the most primitive, was borrowed and an abandoned concrete-mixer was rescued. The over-riding policy was to avoid debts as the offerings from the parish could never have met the interest, let alone the capital, on any debts incurred. We built only as money became available to purchase more materials. The materials themselves were never shoddy. We sought a building of quality, a poem of loveliness, a creation that would reflect something of the glory from above.

The cottage - two up and two down with a kitchen extension - was largely of lathe and plaster inside. Leaving the single brick exterior walls, the whole inside was completely gutted, extended to absorb both the rose garden and well, and rebuilt from the ground floor to the concrete-tiled roof. For our resources it was a mammoth task and it took to 1969 for just the shell of the presbytery, the cloister, the sacristy and the toilets to be completed. We were exhausted financially and physically.  We had no plasterers, no electricians, no plumbers.  In desperation John asked a friendly contractor what he would charge to complete the buildings.  His estimate was £6,000.  Without a penny in the kitty that was out of the question. The worry was compounded when the bishop rang up to say he was coming round to inspect the progress! He arrived and was shown round.  We waited for the comment: "What, after three years this is all you have to show!" But it did not come.   Instead, the bishop remarked: "Canon McHugh's sister died earlier this year. She loved Long Crendon and has left your church £3,000.

So did the presbytery, the cloister, the sacristy and toilets see the light of day.

The site sloped from the road to the cemetery, and the buildings with the drive and the car park had to be brought up to the level of the road - a filling-in of more than 4ft in the car park and of 6ft in the church where tough old apple trees had to be uprooted. Rubble was not easy to come by but, again, right out of the blue, the local primary school was demolished to make way for a Telephone Exchange. Needless to say, the rubble found its way into the church and car park. The Vicar of the Parish Church in Chearsley heard of our need. His church was undergoing alterations. He rescued a whole cartload of broken marble from his church and brought it along to fill up the cavity beside the High Altar.

The most back-breaking work was the mixing, spreading and levelling of concrete. Huge areas needed to be covered - the church, the floor, the courtyard, the drive, the car park, the pavements...it was unending until a Ready-Mix Concrete firm near Oxford offered to give us all our concrete at cost price - a boon from heaven.

In the summer of 1969 the roof of the church, consisting of heavy wood-wool slabs, was hauled up through the crown of the church - so heavy that, on one occasion, a slab hurtled down on one side of the pulley-rope and Aubrey went clean up on the other! It was unforgettable working on the roof and watching the Long Crendon Carnival down below - a week of festal activity in full flood. On July 22nd the last slab was placed in position by Fr. Boswell. On July 23rd he left for a surprise visit to his mother whom he had not seen for 28 years. On their last day together she said: "What do you need for your church?"

He had no doubts. The church needed to be clad with stained glass, so he blurted out:

"Glass, stained glass, Mom, please." "Its yours," she said, "Send me the bill."

So began the last lap. Because Crendon Concrete are concrete experts, the intention was to clad the frame with glass set in concrete as in Coventry and Liverpool Cathedrals. But a visit to John Reyntiens in his studio at Loudwater changed all that. He gave us three bits of invaluable advice:-

1) Use only French antique glass. The colours are harsh and they grow on you.

2) Use only epoxy resin. The co-efficient of expansion between glass and concrete is unequal resulting in leaks. Not so with epoxy resin.3) Do not forget to shatter the glass at its edges. This gives a marvellous scintillating effect when the sun shines on the glass.

In the autumn of '69 we stood inside Go-down 39, East India Docks. Its walls were shelved from ground to eaves and on the shelves were 1,500 tints of French Antique glass, in 30cm square slabs. The proprietor, Rufus Ide, smiled and remarked:

"You are the luckiest person in the world. To-day, de Gaulle devalued the franc and each slab is one third cheaper than it was this morning!"

Along Commercial Road we found the studio of Mr. Flowers, proprietor of Goddard & Gibbs.  When he heard that we needed to clad over 1000sq.ft of space with glass set in epoxy resin he burst out:

"Only to-day I have had to lay-off four of our best craftsmen because there were no orders coming in.  With your order they will have work for nine months.  I shall give you a very special price."

He was as good as his word.  When all the panels were in position the bill was made out to Myrtle Boswell for £5,000.

With the church clad in glass we became acutely aware of a major problem - our voice returned to us from every corner of the building. As a lecture hall it was utterly useless. We remembered visiting Our Lady's Priory at Leyland, Lanes, and the Prior showing us round the Priory church. He shouted and banged and stamped his boots. We thought he had gone balmy but he said:

"Did you hear? Not a single echo. The secret lies in those acoustic bricks that form the drum of the dome."

So we wrote to ask him where he had got them.  He gave us a German address.   We wrote to Germany and got this reply:

"Sorry, the firm has gone bust.   However, when they finished with the Leyland order, the bricks that were left over were stored in a yard near Reading Station.   If you show them this letter you may have the bricks FREE."

We were down the next day with our trailer and found 3000 bricks -enough to form the belt above the stained glass. God bless those bricks. They killed all echo.

In the February of 1971 the postman's strike was on.  The church was completely bare and we had announced:

"When the church is opened in May please bring your own seat.  The money for pews does not exist."

At about 10 one morning a very posh car drew up and the driver stepped out and looked around with the greatest of interest.  He asked "Pray what's this building going to be?"

"A Catholic church," we replied, "to be opened next May."

"And what arrangements have you made for the seating?"

"None" we said.

"None?    How very interesting.    I am Appleton, the Director of Vanpoulles. 

Because of the postal strike I am out delivering orders.

Whenever I see an interesting building I always stop to investigate.

And your building is most interesting.  I can offer you pews..." and he immediately took out his tape and began to measure up. "Take it easy." we said, "We have not a penny for pews,"

He paused and then:

"I'll tell you what. I like this building very much.   I would like my firm to be associated with it. If you pay for the timber, I'll provide the labour.   The timber of mapele mahogany should cost around £1,000."

"No thank you" we were adamant.   Just then we heard the telephone ring in the Presbytery adjoining.   A voice said:

"Do you remember Mr. Tranter?"

Mr. Tranter was one of the group who nearly 10 years before had proposed we have a church, but he had long moved out of the area.

"Well" the voice went on, "Mr Tranter has died. I am his solicitor and I am happy to inform you that he has left the church £1,000."

There are many other instances of the uncanny power of Our Lady of Light. We hope we have related enough to give an idea of her motherly solicitude. Only under her mantle did the church come into being.