That spring had so well soaked, and with its liquid hand
Brought forth...
I'm not actually going to do this.
Rewriting the prologue to The Canterbury Tales so that it starts in July and is about the boys and I, rather than starting in April, and being about a pilgrimage to Canterbury is not only overly ambitious, it's incredibly misleading. For, while I suspect my imagination could stretch far enough to describe what we're doing this year as a sort of pilgrimage, it's not. Maybe in hindsight it will be, or even by midsight. But right now, no, it's not.
I'm doing it again. I told myself when I sat down to write this morning that I am way behind, and so much is going on, and it's going to be a busy few days, and all that, that I just needed to focus, tell it quick, and cover the ground between Monday at Canterbury, and this morning at Limend Farm, shortly before 7am, where I sit at the kitchen table in my cousin John and his wife Helen's 17th century farm house, drinking milk that is less than thirty minutes old, and writing to you.
So I better pick it up a bit.
Canterbury Tales is a story about people. I received a note from my friend Anne the other day who has been following the blog, and she made the excellent comment that, while she was enjoying it very much (that too is an excellent comment in my opinion) she was wondering why I had not included pictures of any of these people I keep talking about. She was hoping for the faces, as well as the places, if I'm allowed to make it rhyme. Which I am by the way, it's my blog afterall.
And she is quite right. And given that I keep talking about how this trip is about meeting people, making connections, etc, you'd think I would have picked up on that one. Thank you Anne for pointing it out. And for those of you who agree, you can thank her too. That said, that may not happen this time, but I promise it is coming very soon.
By the way, its great to hear from people, so please, drop a note if you feel so inclined. Also, feel free to actually use the handy dandy comments function of the blog, that way we can all share.
Right, I'm doing it again.
The Canterbury Tales is a story about people, or more correctly, a collection of stories about people. You can think of our Monday in a similar way.
Dominic: The Guide
Arriving at Victoria Rail Station Monday morning we had no idea where the Victoria Bus Terminal was. We needed the bus terminal to catch our National Express bus to Canterbury. The blue line on the floor directing us to the terminal got us out the door and outside on the street, but somehow they neglected to include it on the pavement, and where to go next was not immediately obvious. So I asked someone with luggage.
Dominic is originally from Poland and has been living and work, work, working in London for a few years now. He was walking to the bus terminal and was happy to not only point it out, but to also walk with us and chat for a few. He asked where we were from, and when I responded Canada, his immediate response was: Rich, Canada is a rich country. Freedom. Like America.
I corrected Dominic on the America thing; we're different from the US, right? It's a point I have been quick to jump to, and I'm starting to think I need to stop. Be a bit more gracious about the whole thing.
Hearing "rich" and "freedom" being the first two descriptives was a bit of an eye opener. I know these things about Canada, and I hear them from time to time, but hearing them from a young fellow from Poland in the streets of London somehow made them more real. More important. It felt good too. We did however spend our few minutes walking talking more about working in London, which is very busy for Dominic, though he was now off to take a short vacation, and how, growing up in Poland, he did not ever imagine that he would be where he is today. Well done Dominic.
Dominic got us to the bus terminal, we printed up our tickets, and here endeth that little bit.
Sean (I seem to recall): The Bus Driver
Never a cheerier fellow have you met than our bus driver who's name I'm pretty sure was Sean. (If it was then, then it almost certainly still is. Tense can be complicated.) Sean explained the rules, told us where he was headed, invited us along, made us laugh, and most importantly, got us to Canterbury on schedule with no mishaps.
Lady of the Counter: Tourist Information Centre
The Lady of the Counter at the Tourist Information Centre was pleasant enough, and reasonably helpful. From her we were able to learn that:
1. The Canterbury Pass (think London Pass but for Canterbury) was presently not available as many sites were changing their pricing and therefore a new price for the pass required negotiating.
2. The next walking tour was at 11am and that we could acquire tickets for it from her. Which we did.
I've generally not used Visitor Information Centres in the past. I like to think that they are for other people, people who cannot find their way around on their own, do prior research, follow a map. People who are, tourists. Who am I kidding? (Yes, I know, myself is the correct answer.) This has all changed. Like the pendulum many of you know me to be, I have now swung from "I'll never step foot in such a place" to "This will be the first place I visit wherever I go". It will eventually balance itself out I imagine. With maps, coupons and walking tour tickets now in hand, and vague directions on how to get where the tour starts (just outside the Cathedral in Buttermarket) we set out.
How does one hide a Cathedral? It took a few false turns, walking to a fro, but finally we got there, shortly before the tour began.
Andrew (I'm pretty sure): The Teacher (I already used Guide)
Andrew lead our tour, and I would describe him best as a teacher, as, well, he taught us all a fair bit as we strolled along the street around the Cathedral grounds, learning the story of Canterbury and it's famous Cathedral.
I'm not going to share it with you here though. Look it up.
Actually, some basics. Canterbury got really famous in 1170 when followers of Henry II of England hacked Thomas Beckett, the then Archbishop of Canterbury, down on December 29th. Cause? Difference of opinion. Essentially Beckett wasn't rolling over and taking it from the King. Beckett was martyred and then canonized (made a saint) in 1173 by Pope Alexander III.
People have been coming to Canterbury ever since.
Actually, they started coming long before that. St. Augustine came to Canterbury (he was just Augustine back then) somewhere in the late 500's when, having come from Rome to London to make sure they weren't slipping too much, basically wasn't allowed in, so he went to Canterbury instead. Augustine became the first Archbishop of Canterbury. And before him, Romans. Julius Caesar, who was not successful in defeating the local celts, and then another one whose name I cannot remember (though Andrew did tell us), who was.
Anyway, time passes, cathedral grows (read Ken Follett for an example of that), Beckett becomes a saint, the pilgrims keep a comin' the city grows to support them. Lots of inns apparently.
This is one of the higher class inns that Andrew showed us. Tudor times apparently, though the windows are newer.
Andrew chatted with us about Henry the VII and the beginning of the Tudors. Below is the Tudor rose. The Tudor Rose was created by Henry VII, or more likely some clever monkey in his PR team, as they concluded the War of the Roses, which was between the House of Lancaster (red rose badge) and the House of York (white rose badge). He did this through good genes and marriage. And now these lovely little things can be found all over the place.
This particular specimen can be found here, in Christchurch Gate, Buttermarket, which leads onto the Cathedral grounds. This was likely built as a memorial to Prince Arthur, best known for having died and allowing Henry VIII to have become Henry VIII.
The Cathedral is quite large. Getting it "all in one" requires some distance. The picture below was taken later in the day when the boys and I were wandering about on our own.
We took lots of pictures of the Cathedral. And I mean "we". Noah has bought himself a camera, and is fast becoming a shutterbug. These however are all my shots. You'll have to ask Noah for his. And while you're at it, you can ask him, and Jake, to start contributing to the blog. People keep asking me to get them to, and I'm not having much luck, So you can give it a try.
I will not share all of the pictures I took of the exterior. Here however is one, just to say I did.
It's a big place.
Andrew told us much of the history of the Cathedral and Canterbury, about the waves of French loomers that arrived on two separate occasions, explaining why there is still a small population of Huguenots in Canterbury, and all sorts of other stuff that I will not get in to. Andrew was an excellent teacher. I was a mediocre student. A good, educational walk was had. The weather held. We parted after 90 minutes, and all was well.
The boys and I made a beeline right back to the Cathedral. Time to pay our admittance and see the insides.
They're rather marvelous. As I've mentioned previously, I love the gothic style. Perpendicular Gothic in fact. (Something Andrew mentioned). Actually, older parts of the Cathedral are Norman. (Also something Andrew mentioned). Norman windows are rounded, and Gothic windows are pointed at the top, apparently to remind us where heaven is.
Incidently, if you look closely at the bottom of all Gothic windows you always somewhere find the engraving "Te sunt hic" to help one better orient one's self.
I'm making this up.
Meanwhile, back inside the Cathedral.
The nave.
I'm quite fond of this shot actually, as I saw it on one of their display boards, so tried to recreate it. Not being much of a photographer I would not have thought of this view. Perhaps I am learning a little. Composition is similar. Growth as a composer takes three basic steps: Copy, Variation, Create. I would think that the same rules apply for most art. Start with copying what you see or hear. Then you begin to make variations on it, so adding more of yourself. Finally you are creating your own masterpieces, spun of out thin air.
Simple as that.
This is the Quire of Canterbury Cathedral. You can pronounce it "choir".
This is the floor of the Quire. I find it fascinating how these seemingly "occult" symbols of the zodiac and such keep cropping up in the most Christian of places. Okay, so the last time was at the Tower of London, but you know what I mean.
This is a flower in the Cloister gardens. We have no idea what it is. Neither did the gardener we asked, though she was very kind in coming over and taking a look.
Any ideas anyone?
Ruby: The Rockstar
Having left the Cathedral we continued our exploration of Canterbury. It's got an old Norman castle, Canterbury Castle, so we wanted to see it.
Checking our map we got walking in what we believed to be the right direction, passed an old ruined wall, subway under a round-about, and continuing along the road. For those not in the know, a subway in England is a pedestrian walkway that passed under something.
It started to feel like we were not going in the right direction anymore. Enter Ruby.
Ruby was the lady who had the good fortune of being walking towards us right at the moment that I felt I wanted to ask someone where the castle was. Ruby had been walking a long time, and stopped to adjust her 24 or so holed grey Doc Martins. Ruby had been at a festival at a place an unspecified, walkable, but painfully so, distance away. She had been minding her own business when another woman started getting agressive with her, and while Ruby tried to chill her out, get out of the situation, and what have you, eventually the woman went "agro" and Ruby had to "punch her in the face". Apparently this resulted in Ruby being asked to leave the establishment. This seemed incredibly unfair to her, as she had not started it, nor had she had any help from the establishment while this woman had gotten so aggressive with her (agro = aggressive). She was forced to leave, without having had the opportunity to collect her harmonicas (she was in the band no less), but more importantly, was not able to get her coat, which was very cool, impossible to replace, hence very important.
Would other band members collect it for her I asked? Likely not.
Despite having had a self-described "shite" day thus far, Ruby was very kind and got us pointed in the right direction (back the ruins I've already mentioned) and walked along with us, sharing the story I have just shared with you.
See, Canterbury Castle.
It's a ruin now, but at one point had about three levels. You can see the remains of one of the stairwells just right of centre of that wall.
Having explored the castle we then made our way along the top of the old city wall and arrived eventually at Dane John Mound. The mound itself is an old Roman burial mound.
If we were in a helicopter I'm sure an aerial photo of the place would be lovely. Here it is from the bottom.
The mound is best known for, in this blog anyway, being the spot where I took that shot of Canterbury Cathedral.
From there we walked back into the general vicinity of the Cathedral.
Jeremy: The Gardener (not the Canterbury Cathedral gardener, another one)
Below is one of our stops. Greyyfriar's Chapel is an old Franciscan friary that spans a fairly large stream which is an off-shoot from the river Stour, one of three rivers in Canterbury; one of the reasons people settled here in the first place (that's from Andrew).
What Jeremy explained to me though, was that this particular stream had been essentially built by the Romans as a means to stop the Stour from flooding the city. Clever fellows those Romans.
Further, the gardens associated with the friary, are actually a small island in the river. You'd never know looking at it.
Jeremy was working in the gardens. The boys and I had stopped to rest and read our books for a bit (we like to do that now and again). Not wanting to read, I left the boys to it and instead decided to interupt this man who turned out to be Jeremy as he was cleaning up some brush.
Jeremy is a private contractor who takes care of these a a few other properties in Canterbury. A very nice man who was quite happy to tell me a bit about the place, point out some well hidden interesting bits (like old foundation walls) and reveal the secret of strategic growths such as the one below, which while quite lovely, serve the purpose of concealing the scaffolding that is keeping that very, very old wall standing up.
Coming from a relatively new place on the planet I generally think that anything really old should be preserved. This belief is being challenged and is changing.
Think about it. Think about how many really old things there are out there. Think about how many discoveries of the past must be being made whenever new ground is broken for a building, or some roadworks need to happen. Now, think of how below the modern city level there is a medieval level, and below that a Norman level, and below that a Roman level, and below that, well, who knows what is below that. Assume though that there is something below it somewhere as people tend to settle where people had settled.
Now, which level do you keep?
And, if you can actually make that decision, how do you fund it?
Ultimately there is only so much funding available, so all of these amazing things cannot be exposed and shared with the modern world.
Greyfriars is a good example of that. Jeremy told me about a show, Time Team, that came along and dug up the area and exposed the old roman ruins there. Where are these ruins now? They're still there, beneath the large garden he is caring for. They had covered it back up.
Always choices.
The garden was closing (they do that in England), so I bid farewell to Jeremy, collected the guys and off we went to continue our exploration of Canterbury, which lead us to crossing this bridge over the Stour.
You can take a punting tour of the Stour. Thankfully this does not involve someone grabbing you by the head and kicking you across for three points. A punt is a boat. Punting is taking the boat on the river. We did not do either.
But we did stroll along it for a bit.
And stopped to admire some art.
And eventually arrived at Canterbury's West Gate.
As we were hungry, and it was starting to rain, and it was near time for our bus back to London, we turned around and headed off to address staying dry, food, and travel.
We were successful in this, and arrived back at Tanya and Simon's where we regaled them with tales from our adventures.
And I suck. I just went to find a picture of Tanya and Smon to include right here but I didn't actually take a picture of either of them. Afterall, I know what they look at. You don't though. Sorry, I'll get better at this.
And then it was off to bed.
It would seem fitting to end this little bit with an appropriate quote from The Canterbury Tales. Afterall, I've played with it along the way, and ending with a poem or poignant line of verse, is an excellent way to show you all how clever I am.
"Then the miller fell off his horse."
- Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales
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