Canterbury: the second day

Our odd breakfast corner in the Travelodge version of the Chaucer Hotel, first noticed at references 1 and 2. Chosen because it was the only place we could find that was out of sight of the two televisions. Fortunately, not on very loud. Quite a decent breakfast, and while the oranges on offer looked a bit tired, they tasted fine.

Having got our car into a slot at the car park at the back of the hotel, out to find this imposing privy, just outside the city walls. Perhaps being outside, it was outside the archbishop's jurisdiction, so the council were able to shut it. Perhaps the someone took it on had a sense of humour as I dare say the sign once said 'Gents', or perhaps 'Ladies'.

I am reminded by Street View that there are two of them and that there are fire buckets and signs of umbrellas. Perhaps the place was a bar or club for a while, in the way of the similar facilities opposite the low numbered platforms at Waterloo Station.

Worked our way up Burgate to the cathedral, to find that there were no refreshment facilities inside the cathedral, for some reason I now forget, so we thought we had better top up before diving in. We found the very establishment for the occasion, which came with a flock of pretty young waitresses, teapots and lots of bric-a-brac. But not tea cakes - and I had to settle for something called a mince Bakewell. I was assured that they were very popular, taken hot.

As it happened there was a young man sat across the way from us, by himself, from east Asia. He just took a coffee, but supplemented this with a bun he extracted from a paper bag inside his back bag. Bit of a cheek. He was then given a cake, which he ate up. It turned out that he had been given my Bakewell by mistake, which he ate up without comment - and without paying - as when he left he just paid for his coffee. Maybe his English was not very good, but a bit odd all the same. The paying bit from the waitress who bought me a second Bakewell. She thought it was a bit odd too. Tourists.

Of whom a lot appeared to be French. I did not get around to asking one of them whether they were day trippers.

Into the cathedral where we found that they had special drain covers as well as special privies and special constables. I notice this morning that they were still doing special drain covers as recently as 2018 - which I find surprising.

Perhaps the older lady we had come across in Burgate, with a very Cambridge-style bicycle, complete with willow basket propped up by a bit of DIY carpentry attached to the front axle - the sort of gadget my own bicycle once sported - was a member of the heritage team. She had certainly sounded as if she could have been: the wife of the holder of a prebend's stall at the cathedral, at the very least. For which, see reference 10.

Perhaps the new drain covers were ordered up when they resurfaced the precinct. The surrounding stones look pretty new.

The newish building to the immediate right of the stalls in the snap above was the hotel we could not get into on this occasion. Hopefully, next time.

The bell tower looking well in the cold morning light.

Impressive place inside, although I have not yet got used to the cross beams bracing the large columns holding up the bell tower. It seems that the builders noticed that they were flexing inwards under the weight and thought that they had better do something about it. A something lightened by the tracery, but visually intrusive nonetheless.

Reference 3 suggests that no such thing was necessary at rather earlier Westminster Abbey, but then it is only a fairly small tower over the crossing, scarcely more than a roof light, there. Took a while to find the snap in the book, but Windows search turned up reference 4 in no time at all. And I dare say Bing search would have turned up a modern version of the snap above in no time at all. But more satisfactory to do it the old-fashioned way!

The lid of the font, just visible left in the earlier snap of the nave above. A handsome and elaborate affair, rescued from the depredations of the Puritans after the restoration of Charles II. Note the chain hoist above.

The candle marks the spot where the shrine to the murdered  Saint Thomas once stood, with the tomb of the Black Prince (who died in middle age of something not very heroic) off snap to the right. Almost as grand a spot as that afforded to Henry V in Westminster Abbey.

I found the windows impressive, although I have no idea how old they are. I associated to the rather large and ugly Hockney window the holy fathers have seen fit to install in the abbey. People in ancient professions often seen to make a bit of a mess of trying to keep up with the times.

The man himself. As it happened, the place chosen for our rendez-vous. The railings are presumably a later addition. One is reminded how fit these chaps must have been to wear all this steel through long days of battle. Never mind fighting as well.

Looking west down the quire. A snap which could not have made it to my laptop by the time that I posted reference 5.

An unusual bit of trim to the base of a column. I do not recall seeing such a thing before. Fiddly for the masons.

I took a time out in the Chapel of our Lady of Martyrdom and St. Benedick, aka the Dean's Chapel. Very fine, in the words of Chief Inspector Morse, although he usually managed to make them sound rather hollow and pretentious. Perhaps that was the intention of his director.

Down to the impressive crypt.

Past the grand chapel for the Buffs, a once proud Kentish regiment which did near 300 years service before being lost to merger in the 1960's. One of the many which were lost at about the same time. I had thought that the phrase 'steady the Buffs' was the Duke of Wellington working his magic on a flagging battalion waiting to receive a French charge at Waterloo, but I learn this morning that I had got this quite wrong, no idea why. The truth, to be found at reference 11, is much more prosaic.

Out to take lunch at the nearby Côte Brasserie. They kept us waiting a few minutes for our table, but it was worth it. A dry run, although we did not go so far as to make it teetotal, having been noticed at reference 7. Sadly, I forgot to take my folding Laguiole, with which to impress the waiting staff. 

Having at first thought to go white, I actually settled for what turned out to be an entirely satisfactory couple of bottles of Fleurie. Louis Tête, a domaine which sold out to the Agamy operation to be found at reference 8.

Oddly, I could not find the Fleurie there, but I could find the wine snapped above at reference 9. Not quite the same. And our bottle does not look like something just knocked out for the restaurant trade in the UK. In fact, not at all likely given its substantial Internet footprint.

I took onion soup, which came with a couple of slices of cheese on toast, one of which I passed on, chicken & chips and raspberry sorbet. Orange having gone missing. Washed down with a spot of Calvados. Quite a lot of steak and chips elsewhere in the party. BH visibly fishy.

Lots of bread, which was as good as on the previous occasion. The waiter said something about it being delivered from Côte Central each morning, but that seems a bit unlikely. It is not as if the chain is very thick on the provincial ground. Another mystery.

Out to Evensong at the cathedral, where we got talking to a talkative lady from East Prussia, I thought German rather than Polish, without being too sure about it. A congregation of around 100, so rather more than I remember from the last occasion. I thought the choir was probably the B team, with the A team being held back for the big days to come. No adults. Can't remember about girls. But the choir boy nearest me was finishing off his homework between times, which was very proper. Led by a lady cantor whom I thought managed from the back rather well, even if she was helped with a microphone.

On the way back to the hotel, called in at the the busy Wetherpoon's. Lots of happy, festive people, some in festive gear.

Fullish moon over the hotel, peeping out of an unusual cloud formation - which I thought it might be called a mackerel sky.

A thought which is supported but not confirmed by Bing this (Monday) morning.

Still a bit full for proper eating, so we settled for a snack in our hotel room, drawn from our trusty picnic bag in the car. I made short work of an apple using my nail file from Sheffield.

PS: on closing this post, I was amused to come across the piece at reference 12. Very suitable stuff for an end-of-year filler. Decorated with the snap above, which reminded me of my remarks about happy faces towards the end of reference 13.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/12/canterbury-first-day.html.

Reference 2: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/12/fake-187.html.

Reference 3: Westminster Abbey, historically described - Feasey, Micklethwaite and Bell - 1899.

Reference 4: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2017/03/a-bit-of-heritage.html.

Reference 5: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/12/right-lighting.html.

Reference 6: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/12/pianos-96-and-97.html. Not Steinways.

Reference 7: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/12/more-madrigals.html.

Reference 8: https://agamy.fr/en/louis-tete-brand/.

Reference 9: https://agamy.fr/.

Reference 10: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prebendary.

Reference 11: https://www.britishempire.co.uk/forces/armyunits/britishinfantry/buffs.htm.

Reference 12: The great wealth transfer: Big inheritances are set to transform economies, markets and society - The Editorial Board, Financial Times - 2024.

Reference 13: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2024/12/spoons.html.