15.9.68
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| This great photo appears on a blog by Jeremiah Watt. It gives some impression of St Alban's beauty. |
Dear Mum, England is at present
having the sort of
floods we had earlier this year – great chaos, but not where either the
Crowls or I live. I rang Kiri tonight,
but she’s a victim of the floods and is still down south somewhere according to
Ann Gordon, who was at K’s place.
They’re going to let me know tomorrow. Well, I went out to Woodland Way yesterday, and started the stay off
with dinner! Then we went on our
projected tour of St Albans – this time Nina, Mavis’ sister wasn’t with us, but
was looking after someone sick. We got
to St A’s (by the way, the town of St A’s is very attractive, it hasn't been
too spoilt with lots of new blocks but retains its nineteenth and earlier century
charms) and went in and walked down to the West End of the church. It’s the most remarkable building: part of it
dates back to 1077 (!) then another wall dates from a century or two
later, and is different in style, then another bit had been added again in a
different style, and consequently the whole place could be a mess. As far as
design goes it probably is: nothing quite lines up with anything else: the roof
is at least four different heights, and has a 19th century ceiling
in one part, another bit is painted with squares of two or three different
colours, the next bit is vaguely polka-dotted with a variety of colours, the
next bit is beautiful, and so on! There
is a lady altar, which is very attractive, but fairly simple, then the main
altar, but in the middle part of the church, which is the smaller part than the
west end which is for a big
congregation, has an altar depicting the Resurrection and must have over 50 statues, all about 2 or 3 feet high,
and a number of smaller ones, all quite different and depicting various saints,
and a larger crucifix in the middle.
Fantastic!!
St Alban’s tomb, if you walk into
it, is interesting but decaying, but approach it from the lady altar, and the
three arches in front of it take on a strange light, and there is a curious
pink glow about it all, which seemed to have no particular source. The amount of carving, not only of the
statues but of endlessly detailed and decorated archways, and pillars, is
astonishing. There are murals, now being
cleaned, that date back to the beginning of this particular church, and there are stones in the tower, I think, that
were used in the building of the Roman town of Verulamium, or somesuch, next
door, which must date back to the first or 2nd centuries! There has been a church there since the 3rd,
of some sort.
But we ran into troubles again –
last time we couldn’t get in. This time
we got down to the West end, and Reg (which is what I’m to call him) wandered
off into the middle while we other 3 were admiring some plaques that dated back
to 1686, and next thing we found Evensong had begun and we couldn’t follow Reg
through. The same little man was
stopping us at the door between the two parts.
So we went out the West door and back in the other end, and another man
said would we sit down, so we did, sighting Reg trapped, somehow, on the other
side of the door, which he’d managed to go out
though we couldn’t come in it! The service went on and on, and though we tried
to leave during on bit, we were asked very firmly to sit down again! And the choir, of boys and men, which though
it was very good, sang the same sort of thing over and over again, seemed never
to stop! Trapped! In due course it all came to an end, but we
were a bit annoyed, really, because it had taken up so much of the short time
we had. Not to worry.
After this we went and had tea
and cakes – indispensable; I’m even beginning to think so myself – homemade,
too, at a little place just up the street.
Home, and then we had tea proper!
After this we watched the last night of the Proms on TV – the last night
of 52! – but it was the 2nd half and all pretty rowdy – the audience
is quite mad on the last night. [At this point the Last Night of the Proms wasn't something I knew much about.] Reg then
went out to collect Nina, and he made a tape on his return of me playing some
music, as well as all the chat that went on in between. I’m afraid I wasn’t too happy with my
playing, but it seemed to come out quite well on the tape.
This morning to Mass just down
the road, and very crowded it was too.
It was a High sung Mass, but the music didn’t seem to be particularly
interesting. At least the hymns were
familiar.
This afternoon Reg and I had a
game of chess which he won...! I had him
fooled for a while, though; he wondered what the new opening was that I made:
completely Crowl! [In other words I was
making it up as I went along; my usual amateur tactic – Reg could actually play
well.] This afternoon, too, we went and visited Winnie Crowl, Reg’s cousin,
my second, according to her, and she’s a lovely old lady, not that old, I
suppose, about 60-something, but very bright.
A Cockney too. She pronounces her
name to rhyme with Crow, which is curious, because Reg pronounces it the way we
do [rhyming with Owl]. She lives in a maisonette, which is
the upper floor of a semi-detached – I think – near Arnos Grove. Which is near where Anne and Pat live. She’s invited me to come round any time I
feel like letting off steam! She says
she’s a good listener, but she is very easy to talk to. It’s marvellous how pleased these people are
to see me – perhaps it’s my origin, i.e., from NZ, or perhaps the fact of whose
son I am – though Reg reckons that anything I want to know about you Winnie can tell me! She and Reg are
fairly close I think. But she really did
welcome me with open arms. Great isn’t
it? I’ve felt a bit embarrassed about the shower of gifts, almost, that the
Crowls have presented: particularly in the way of hospitality, and also in
gifts of fruit and eggs, and cake, and now an alarm clock (my wee clock’s fine,
except for the alarm), so this time I
gave Mavis a small box of chocs – I’d wanted to get some flowers which she
loves but since it’s been so wet, the flower sellers weren't around. And I’ve been invited out again next weekend! They’re marvellous, aren’t they? I thought the home relatives were a good lot,
but these are wonderful too. Reg reckons
he’s learning more about London all the time – I’ve been to several places he hasn't! Mad, isn’t it?
At the moment on the radio
there’s an interview with a woman who’s a divorcee, and a widow, discussing her problems of being on her own – it’s
very emotional. She keeps breathing very
heavily. It’s quite surprising what
they’re discussing. Mike
[In spite of Winnie’s warm welcome and encouragement, I don’t ever remember going there on my own.
I may have gone once or twice more with Reg, but I don’t remember. As for her being a Cockney – well, she may
have been born, like my father was supposed to have been, within the sound of
Bow Bells – but there wasn’t a hint of Cockney in her speech, any more than
there was in Reg and his family’s. My amazement at St Alban’s was no doubt due
to its being one of the first ancient churches I visited. ]
