Farewells
Friday 25 and Saturday 26 October, 2018
So there it was. We made a rather sad trip to Heathrow via Ealing, rather hoping that we could avoid the stairs – surprise, we had to change platforms and the life was under repair – and with Paula worrying about the weight her bags. The latter concern was totally unfounded and she was on her way before either of us could really catch our breath.
My intention had been to see Jan McDonald, my Godmother, but we hadn’t heard back so I was left with something of a quandary. I could have gone west but, on the grounds that following hunches is a good idea, I ended up in Canterbury. Let’s face it, thanks to Thomas Stearns Eliot, it’s tax-deductible!
The accommodation was marginal but I was only there to see the Cathedral, and timed if perfectly so I went all over the building and was still there at Evensong, which is always the best time to get the feel of a Cathedral. It’s a great shame that this tradition hasn’t developed in the Catholic tradition: there’s something deeply spiritual about the austere language of the Prayer Book and the measured ceremony surrounding the liturgy.
There were some old friends in the Cathedral, and of course the badge was very familiar and a bit spooky to see on everyone’s uniform or robes (of course, the joke is that before the Reformation the Cathedral was dedicated, as were all the cathedrals, to Our Lady as well as the patron, and the sky blue is traditionally the colour of Our Lady’s cloak, so all those kingsmen have wandered around wearing the Virgin’s colours). But two memorials were names familiar to Australians:
The crypt has Anglo-Saxon and Norman arches, holding up the rest of the east end. It’s such an interesting and ancient building, surviving so many centuries of abuse and neglect. Within the building, the cathedral community are finding new ways to communicate the message: artwork connecting pilgrims and refugees, chapels commemorating acts of peace, the quiet places in the crypt.
It was a good place to be while I collected my thoughts.
Saturday saw me heading up west to Devon, with dinner organised with Liz Bailey and her family, a connection with the Wreford and Davy families. It was a good time to get a sense of Exeter, which I really didn’t get chance to do where we were here 12 years ago, and good to catch up with Katrina, Shane and Claire. More photographs tomorrow!
