Back to the Abbey

What appears to be my first visit since the second half of September, noticed at reference 1.

I managed to buy my discounted ticket before I realised that I had not got my senior rail card with me. On which point the rules are very clear: penalty if have a senior ticket if you cannot exhibit your rail card. Owning one is no excuse. Not being able to remember when I last had my ticket checked, I decided to take a chance, rather than go to the bother of getting the ticket changed. No check as it turned out.

Not many masks near or on the train. Even fewer actually deployed. But there was a middle aged man having a long conversation with someone who worked for him. The someone wanted to come into work, but my man was not having it. You have been signed off sick by your doctor and if you then come into work and have an accident, your company insurance cover will be invalidated; they won't pay. If you really want to come in, you will have to go to your doctor again and get him to withdraw your sick note. All of which necessitated what seemed like a very long and very loud conversation on my man's mobile phone. Presumably work was some kind of a factory or building site where accidents were not unheard of.

A rather crooked window lintel, to the immediate right of the red door, in Gayfere Street, very near where I dropped my first Bullingdon of the day.

The whole row of lintels looks a bit ragged, there are were signs of movement in the brickwork and there may have been bomb damage to the house to the left. Nevertheless, my counting says that there is an extra course of bricks below the offending lintel on the right. Which says that the crookedness must have been built in at the beginning. So must for old-fashioned workmanship. Perhaps just some speculative builder doing things on the cheap in the early 19th century?

I had forgotten that the clocks on St. Margaret's were sundials. This afternoon, Bing turns up reference 2, from which I learn that for three hundred years there were proper clocks, but the sundials were put in - perhaps replicas of old sundials - in the 1980's. The dial left is pointing roughly west, so as the noon sun comes around high on the right, the shadow hits the two, working its way anti-clockwise as the sun falls away to the left. Having now discovered the problem of vertical sundials, as opposed to the much more straightforward horizontal variety, I clearly need to have a proper look on a sunny day. 

Only took a few minutes to get into the abbey, but it seemed a lot busier than it had been in the autumn. And even fewer masks than there had been on the train.

In among the admirals and such like in the north aisle, we had this lady, apparently from Chesterton, on the northern outskirts of Cambridge, where I spent a year or so in the early 1950's. A lady who ran to nine children with her first husband before going on to her second, who seems to have been something important at Lincoln Cathedral. Sadly, my Latin, never up to much, is not up to much of this inscription.

Had a sit for a bit in the bank of seats facing the screen, facing Newton and an altar table carrying not much more than a red sanctuary lamp. Admired the full colour statue of what I took to be Mary, Mother of God, in a niche near Newton, a statue which would not been out of place in a Roman church.

I found the large, white hanging lights particularly irritating on this visit. I suppose they are a gift from some important person or organisation and they don't feel able to put in something more suitable. Without them, one would be better able to concentrate on the holy above, without regard to all the quick and the dead at ground level.

From there, following the one-way system, through the choir and into the ambulatory (?) which runs around behind the High Altar. Still not managed to get into the sanctuary of St. Augustine. But I was able to admire this monument in one of the northern side chapels, just about holding its own against the more martial affair, with canons, on the right.

At the very back of Henry VII's Lady Chapel, that is to say at the very east end of the Abbey, a rather important position, we had an RAF chapel. The threshold into which had, curiously, been the temporary resting place of Oliver Cromwell, before being ejected after the restoration. I hope they did not find it necessary to do anything too brutal with what was by then left of him.

A bit further around and we had another elaborate monument, not to say rather florid, for one Ludovic Stuart, with another inscription which my Latin is not up to. The Abbey website offer a translation at reference 3, but I think that must be a rather free translation. I can't see, for example, what has happened to 'cataphractorum praefecti' which I would have loosely translated as colonel of the horse guards. Nor have I attempted to check the chronogram said to be embedded in the closing Biblical quote. Nor do I have any idea why he rates such a fancy monument. Perhaps being a relative of James I was enough. But I have learned that '... his third was Frances, widow of Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford. Frances had ordered that her body be packed in bran and wrapped in sheets used in her marriage bed'. Rum people these aristos, especially foreign ones.

A bit of down time in St. Faith's chapel, still open for such purposes. And as luck would have it, I was not disturbed in the ten minutes or so I spent there.

From there onto the Chapter House with its curious paintings around the walls.

Then to the Pyx chamber, now dressed as a chapel, but originally a sort of store room for treasures, apparently the King's treasures rather than the Abbey's treasures. Very old.

Then into the gardens to the south, that is to say below the chapter house, visible top centre. The first garden, about where the 'E' of English heritage is, was enclosed in a sort of small cloister and there appeared to be grace and favour apartments in the way of Hampton Court Palace, except that in this case it was the Dean dispensing the grace and favour rather than Her Majesty.

Beyond that was the College Garden, a very handsome space, reminding me both of Oxbridge colleges and Inns of Court. There were a lot of the blue flowers snapped above around the base of one of the plane trees. So far I have have failed to find out what they are, despite the distinctive leaves. Neither Bing nor Google came up with them on 'small blue flower spring' and adding bell swamped me with bluebells. 

I thought that Google image search made the best attempt, but still failed on the snap above.

While I had thought this one, from a distance, to be something Victorian, but it turned out to be the work of one Enzo Plazotta, according to reference 4, well known for his studies of the female form. Bing turns up plenty of them, so they are probably right. Perhaps I shall collect them when I get fed up with Wellingtonia.

Quite near by, I thought rather oddly, was a garden bench memorialising the Battle of Agincourt. Perhaps on account of Henry V getting a very good spot behind the shrine of the Confessor. Almost as good as behind the tomb of Henry VII and his lady, already mentioned above.

A general view. Part of Westminster School to the left, a public school, that is to say a private, fee paying school, not to be confused with the Choir School. And if you click to enlarge, you may get just a tint of blue at the foot of the tree right.

Altogether a memorable place.

Out to find the cafeteria underneath the Methodist Central Hall shut, so I took off for the former public house, now called the Tea House Theatre, in what Google is pleased to call the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. Where, for a tenner, they were able to give me a slice of a very substantial steak and kidney pie. The sort of thing you might get in a cafeteria, but a good portion with plenty of steak and kidney. Plus white and green vegetables. Plus just a touch of gravy. Not swamped. And they were licensed, with the result that I was far too full to take any of the cakes on offer. Altogether an interesting place.

There was also a piano tucked away in a corner but it was used as a shelf for the storage of all sorts of stuff, so I did not like to poke around.

The large red brick church, with tower, across the other side of the Gardens was firmly shut. Unusual for a Catholic church (reference 5), but not unreasonable given the area, probably busy with all sorts later on in the day. I remember getting off the train on the way to work in the morning, just about as the serious revellers were packing it in, having spent the night raving under one of the arches. No doubt helped along with recreational substances, taken in either liquid or powdered form. Or maybe even smoked.

A blank at Raynes Park.

But we had two cheerful young mums on the train, who were singing a new-to-me verse of that well known children's song 'The wheels on the bus go round and round'. Which went the doors on the train go open and shut. With suitable actions. Great fun.

Lots of it to be found on YouTube, but the ones I saw looked and sounded pretty grim. I shall stick to the live version.

Closed the proceedings with trolley No.483, noticed at reference 6.

And the spot of water works needed to supply water to a fenced off back garden, presumably part of the preparation for building a house there, although I have yet to see a planning notice. Presumably there will be lots of objections.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2021/09/abbey.html.

Reference 2: https://www.ianvisits.co.uk/articles/restoring-st-margaret-churchs-300-year-old-clock-30677/.

Reference 3: https://www.westminster-abbey.org/abbey-commemorations/commemorations/ludovic-frances-esme-stuart.

Reference 4: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Enzo_Plazzotta.

Reference 5: https://stannesvauxhall.wordpress.com/.

Reference 6: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2022/03/trolley-483.html.