Well, Glen got me with that London post. So what do I do…go completely the other direction. Typical.

One of the things that I find myself doing whenever we are in a new location is comparing it to other places we’ve “dwelled”. Here are a few observations of Canterbury in relationship to Brooklyn, New Orleans and maybe even Walnut Creek.

First…Rats, mice and cockroaches.

Inquiring minds want to know!!! You may remember rats were quite friendly in Brooklyn (never in the house thankfully, but everywhere on the streets) while in New Orleans cockroaches were our ever-present friends. At the end of our time there we were joined by a very cute little kitchen mouse. As for Canterbury a medieval town…I haven’t seen any of the above and I have to say, I’m pleasantly surprised! Maybe after that whole plague thing they figured out how to send them downriver?

Bugs.

Mosquitos in Brooklyn drove me nuts. The house had screens so it was really just a problem outdoors. In New Orleans there were all kinds of bugs, especially in the evening. There were no screens so we really lived via the air conditioning which for me is not ideal. When we were outside we had to bat the bugs away. Also not ideal. I did buy bug spray, but I hate to use it. In Canterbury? Again, no screens which I worried about, but seriously, we LIVE with the french doors into the kitchen area open and the bugs fly in and they fly OUT! I swear it’s like they don’t like us or something which is fine with me! We even have two windows in the bedroom which are open 24/7 and…NO BUGS!!! Can someone please explain this to me?

Weather.

I was going to call this “Men and Shirts in the Heat”, but decided that it was too specific to Canterbury so not the best title. “Weather” is a bit less colorful, but who doesn’t talk about the weather?? I love weather and that’s probably because I’m from LA where the weather is…never mind. It’s pretty temperate and boring except for that June gloom…yuck.

You may remember that we were in Brooklyn for the remnants of some hurricane and our basement was flooded. That was fun. We had a lot of evening thunder storms and of course our share of hot, summer weather. We also went out to the Hamptons for a couple days in October and experienced the cool, breezy change of seasons as fall crept in.

We were in New Orleans in the middle of spring, heading to summer and as expected…it was often muggy and HOT! And there were plenty of rainstorms and thunderstorms that blew in and blew out.

Now Canterbury in the middle of British summer? What does one expect? Certainly not temperatures above 100 degrees! And these Brits are hilarious because they literally FREAK out! I can’t tell you how many men I observed walking down the street carrying their shirt tucked into their back pocket. It was not a pretty sight. Sorry. On their behalf, very few places are air conditioned so it was pretty hot, but guys…keep your shirts on, PLEASE!!! (I mean, imagine the sunburns!) Another observation is that here in Canterbury which is only 30 miles or so to the English Channel/North Sea has felt an awful lot like San Clemente or even the Bay Area. There is a coastal breeze and light clouds that flow in and out of the city, sometimes multiple times a day. As we like to call it in the Bay…nature’s air conditioning.

Trash.

I was so impressed in Brooklyn. Just about every street corner had a trash can and people used them! While there was the occasional mattress dumped on the sidewalk, overall, the city was clean.

Since we were at the edge of the French Quarter in New Orleans there were also trash cans on every corner. And all of the merchants cleaned the sidewalks in front of their businesses every morning. Plus, every morning there were employees who walked the streets picking up trash, emptying the trash cans, and generally cleaning up after the few people who didn’t follow the rules. And the best part of NOLA are the street sweepers. They come through just about every day and hose down the sidewalks and street. I won’t go into why this is necessary, but if you’ve been to Bourbon Street, you know.

Now Canterbury could really take a lesson from those two American towns. I am rather appalled by the amount of trash in this city. There are trash cans, but clearly not enough and I never see an employee following up and emptying the cans that are FULL. And the amount of cigarette butts around any benches is disgusting. Which makes me add a category…smoking. I have not been anywhere in a very long time where there are as many smokers as there are here in Canterbury. Cigarettes for many, but the youth seems to be vaping. I mean LOTS of youth vapers. And tons of stores selling vaping supplies. I’ve seen kids that I would guess are 10 years old vaping. It’s heartbreaking. England needs to get on some sort of educational program or something because it’s rampant. Ugh.

Another difference here in Canterbury is the trash pick up system. Commercial trash is different from residential and the companies that pick up are also different. And two different companies pick up the different cans. For example, every other Thursday our garbage and green can are picked up with the following Thursday being recycling cans. So that’s residential. The commercial cans are picked up every week. Tuesday is recycle and Wednesday is garbage and green. And since we have a hotel down the street and a pub across the street, that means that three mornings a week we are woken up by trash trucks sitting outside our window at 6:30 am dumping their wares into the truck’s chute. Clang, clang, crack, bang, boom. Good thing we are morning people!

Youth

The topic of trash sort of leads me to the topic of youth. My memory of youth in Brooklyn was of the kids walking past our house twice a day as there was a K-8 school down the block from us. It was fun to listen in to snippets of their conversations and use them as a “clock” for the rhythm of the day. In New Orleans, I don’t really have a memory related to kids. There was a school a couple blocks away, but they were all carpooled into school. A few times at the end of our time there I watched classes heading on a field trip to the park behind our house and I instantly started counting heads to make sure I hadn’t lost anyone…wait…never mind.

Here in Canterbury – yikes. they roam the streets here in large groups! Until this week (school just went out on summer break), we had uniformed kids going up and down our street twice a day. The “public” school is a short distance away and this is a thoroughfare. There were girls, boys, walkers, scooters, bikes, skateboards…many modes of travel and lots of expected behaviors. There are also a lot of student groups in town. Seems like a place where much like our kids went on the NYC/DC trip at the end of 8th grade, these kids go to Canterbury. Sad to say, I find these groups of students challenging. They are loud. They pay no attention to people around them, blocking sidewalks, leaving trash, etc. They go into stores and generally make it challenging for anyone else to do their shopping. (Likely my kids behaved the same way at that age, but I’d like to hope that maybe…they didn’t?) OMG. I sound like my mother. Ugh. It’s just that there are SO many!!!

Neighbors

In Brooklyn we immediately connected with some of our neighbors, Violet and Mike are the two stand outs. When we go back there in September, we’ll for sure check in with them. Our neighborhood was mostly long-term residents and was definitely a community, but they welcomed us. New Orleans was very different. Our building with 6 units was all short term living and it was clear that there were other “VRBO” type places in the area. The long-term neighbors wanted nothing to do with us, on the verge of being rude or at least disconnected. It was a very different experience. Here in Canterbury, there are definitely more short-term rentals, but the neighbors have welcomed us. You probably read about David who will be coming over for a glass of wine later this week. There’s also the nice young gentleman, Olivier who lives next door and gets to the street via our garden. We often see him several times a day and he is a lovely addition to our neighborhood. He brought us a bottle of wine yesterday because he felt bad traipsing through our yard when Glen was obviously on Zoom calls for work. I definitely, obviously like the neighborhood connection.

Market.

So I always use the word “market” which some friends think is “cute” or “quaint”. I think maybe lots of people use “grocery store”? At home I would say that going to the “market” means Safeway. Otherwise I would be specific like Trader Joe’s or Costco. In Brooklyn, I went to the “corner store” just about every day and I went to the chain market every few days. It was 3/4 of a mile away. I also made the trip to Trader Joe’s via the Metro a couple times a month. In New Orleans, I walked the mile to one of two markets several times a week (they were in opposite directions) and to the corner store which was really more of a sandwich shop with a few basics, every day or so. Here in Canterbury – not many “corner stores”, but there’s a Waitrose, a great market right around the corner and I go just about every day. I’m loving the European lifestyle!

Birds

I can’t add any info about birds in Brooklyn or New Orleans, but here in Canterbury??? There are SO many birds! The seagulls are CRAZY! They are LOUD! They talk to each other all day long and into the night. Then there are the little brown wrens, the pigeons, the ducks, geese, swans, doves, ravens, magpies, and….There are birds everywhere! Hey – maybe that’s why there aren’t that many bugs!!!

Parks

Urban parks are a new thing for me. And after Brooklyn dwelling, I really learned to appreciate and understand them. There were lots of parks around the neighborhood, some were a full block or two in size, some were just a corner shaved off a street. Some were green with benches and ponds, some were just basketball courts with a drinking fountain. All were well utilized. In New Orleans, we had a park right behind us that was the “dog” park. Sadly, Dug doesn’t like dogs so it was pointless for us to go there. There was Jackson Square and Crescent Park and lots of bars to stop off and cool down in. (Bars are a different kind of park, right?)

Here in Canterbury, I’m sort of disappointed at the lack of parks and benches. There are a couple of parks over at the edges the old medieval town, but where we are located which is just a short 5 minute walk away from the center of town, there aren’t any. One day I was looking for a place to sit while I called my mom. (I have to find a place where I can yell so she can hear me. LOL) I did find one bench around the corner, but it’s in a dry, uninteresting spot and it’s completely littered with cigarette butts. Who wants to sit there if you’re not having a cigarette? So…Canterbury could really up its park game.

And don’t ever ask me which place is my favorite. It’s like your kids – you love them all…just differently!

First…nodding to Canterbury Cathedral is kind of funny. It is the most imposing feature of this small medieval city. I never get lost as i wander the streets because the towers of the castle are always visible and I just need to know where they should “be” as I’m meandering. It is the jewel of this city and definitely merits more than a nod. Then again…everyone bows to the cathedral, so loving an underdog, I’m more drawn to the Abbey and St. Martin’s Church.

And speaking of church…I have a weird relationship with church. I alluded to it in a past post. It confuses me. I guess the best way I can describe it is to say that it fascinates me. And maybe not in the traditional way. I won’t go into too many details about my beliefs, but I will say that I believe that there is a strength, a being, a spirit, a something…that is greater than any individual. Or group. Or leader. And I don’t think that that spirit resides in a church…necessarily. It might for some, but it doesn’t for me. I will say that nature can be a kind of church. Sitting on top of Lembert Dome in Tuolumne Meadows or on the bluffs above Mendocino definitely carry that “spirit” for me. I guess we could have a whole discussion about how we define “church”. Another day…

As I travel, I love to visit churches and it seems that often it’s a Catholic church. In Vietnam we visited Catholic churches and Buddhist temples. Catholic churches in Europe are prolific and often large. One of my early church and travel memories is from 1978 when I was traveling with my cousins. We were driving south in a tiny little car looking for warmer weather. (It was February and Paris was slushy, and frigid so we were sprinting south.) We stopped in Poitier, a little medieval village and just wandered the streets – maybe looking for something to eat? What I do specifically remember is walking into this small stone church on a miserable damp, rainy, weekday. There didn’t appear to be anyone in the church so it seemed like a good place to warm up though medieval churches are not known for their excellent heating and air systems. :-). As we sat the pews in the silence, suddenly the church was FILLED with organ music. The organist was practicing for the Sunday service. I was mesmerized. I was enthralled. I was moved. I’ll never forget that feeling of awe as I sat in that centuries-old place of worship and absorbed the history, the music, and the emotion. That was a memorable and an inspiring moment for me. And it occurred in a church!

Since that memorable moment, I’ve had the good fortune of spending Easter Sunday in some of the incredible cathedrals of the world – Florence, Westminster, the National Cathedral in DC. I go for the ritual, the pageantry, the history, the music. I guess I’m looking for that feeling of connectedness, of inspiration, of peace and hope.

This past Sunday, I went to Canterbury Cathedral, an Anglican church* (which basically means Church of England), for Evensong, a 5:30 pm music-based service. I was expecting to be moved by the choir, but sadly I found the music to be uninspiring. (The choir was visiting from a church in South Carolina.) Yes, the setting was spectacular, the voices were beautiful, the acoustics were incredible, but the music itself did not move me. And at the end of the service there was a new organ piece that made me think of a movie scene of the end of the Earth. It was anything but uplifting and by the time that it finally ended…the words “Go in peace” had lost their impact. Harumph.

And btw – Going to Evensong allows one to enter the cathedral without paying an admission fee. I will pay to go to for a tour. It’s not that I’m cheap, but there are lots of other travelers who can’t afford the $17 charge to get on the grounds, let alone inside. The brochure claims that it costs more than 22,000 pounds PER DAY to “maintain and run” the church. I won’t address the whole church and wealth issue that has a long history – a lot of it corrupt.

AND I also visited St. Augustine’s Abbey* this week…which according to the title is the point of this post. Finally, you might be saying!

You may have read my recent post about St. Martin’s Church*. When King Ethelbert (before Henry VIII when England was ruled by multiple kings) married his French princess with a promise to allow her to continue her Christian worship, the Pope sent Augustine to follow her to establish the Catholic Church in England. It is said that Augustine got up into France and found the trip too grueling so he returned to Rome asking not to be forced to go. The Pope basically told him to toughen up and get back on the road.

At the time, Anglo-Saxons including King Ethelbert, were pagan so Augustine had his work cut out for him. He began the process of building the Pope’s church in England which at the time was not one country, but many fiefdoms, ruled by many kings. Ethelbert was converted and eventually was baptized at St. Martin’s. Augustine’s work also included the establishment of the abbey which for almost 1000 years was the Catholic monastic center of learning and spirituality.

Many centuries passed and then along came King Henry VIII. The fall of the Catholic Church in England all began because King Henry VIII wanted to end his first marriage to Katherine of Aragon so that he could marry Anne Boleyn. When he appealed to the Pope in Rome for the dissolution of his marriage, the Pope denied his request which just pointed out to Henry that the Pope was more powerful than him which for him was a BIG problem. King Henry wanted to be the ruler of ALL things. So since he was king…he just started his own church that he could rule AND he got to make up the rules! So good bye Katherine. Hello Anne! And we all know how that turned out.

While St. Martin’s and the Canterbury Cathedral are still fully functioning places of worship, the Abbey is just a collection of ruins which provides a very different experience for the visitor. I’ll let the photos speak for themselves (with some captions), but the history that I found fascinating, in my twisted way of looking at the church(es), is that when King Henry decided that he was the ruler of all things, including his new church, he set out to destroy every part of the Catholic Church in his kingdom. The abbey was essentially destroyed. Henry’s henchmen stole all of the valuables, including reliquary, the books created by the monks, and then they destroyed most of the buildings including the tombs of kings who were buried there. Henry eventually used the remains of the abbott’s residence to build a palace for his queen though it never became a “favored” residence. The abbey later became residence for a lord and lady, a jail (gaol), a poorhouse and a college before finally becoming an UNESCO site.

Canterbury is considered the birthplace of the Anglican Church* in England. (I think it’s a Protestant church, but don’t quote me.) Today, these three early Catholic treasures are UNESCO world heritage sites which affords them many protections from kings or queens, ;-), developers, city government, etc. But apparently, it does not provide money to maintain them…at least according to the cathedral brochure.

Another piece of information about maintaining all of these incredible treasures…MANY historic buildings in Canterbury (and throughout Great Britain) are owned by “public” schools and colleges. (“Public” does not mean free. These schools can be quite expensive to attend if you can pass the entrance exams and have the appropriate family “credentials”.) This creates quite the conundrum because though many citizens believe that these sites belong to the people of Great Britain, they are literally privately owned. Therefore, they are not available to the public. The good news is that these “public” schools are required to maintain the buildings. The bad news is that even locals rarely have access to them. Whaddya gonna do?

And in my nod to the cathedral, I did go on that guided tour yesterday. It was led by a lovely English gentleman who can quote facts about the cathedral including describing the messaging of the stained glass windows, the lineage of kings and queens, popes, archbishops…And of course, the highlight of his storytelling is the history of St. Thomas Becket who was murdered at the alter in the cathedral because he he stood against the King who was trying to erode the power of the church in Rome. Within three years of his murder, Becket was sainted and Canterbury became an important stop on the Via Francigena pilgrimage to the Vatican.

Now, back to the point of this post…as if there were one…The afternoon that I chose to go to the Abbey, I was pretty much alone wandering the ruins. It was a beautiful (and hot) afternoon and I enjoyed living in the history of the abbey as I wandered the paths, listened to the stories, and studied the ruins.

And maybe I even felt a bit uplifted!

*My blog posts will NEVER be added to Wikipedia because I cannot promise that my facts are straight, that my memory is correct, or that I might not be embellishing a bit on a good story. 😉

Have you been wondering about my walk with our next door neighbor David and his friend? I found myself strangely excited and a bit nervous about it. Silly me.

David picked me up by knocking on our door promptly at 10:15. He was carrying a shopping bag and I had a small bunch of flowers for our hostess. You see, David had told me that we’d walk for about an hour and then we would share a glass of wine “chez elle”. So I had to look that up because I’m just not as cosmopolitan as I might have led you to believe. 😉

And off we went. We had plenty to talk about on our way to Judy’s house. We chatted about the weather (horribly hot) and the countryside of Canterbury, David’s experience housing Chinese students over the years, hoping to house Ukrainian refugees, his tutoring of two Syrian students and…other chatty topics.

When we arrived at his friend’s house, he told me that he met her and her husband when he and his French wife split up (she went back to France) and sold the house to Judy and her husband. They’ve remained friends since 1976. Judy’s house is in the Edwardian style – red brick, two stories with a bay window on the right and a rectangular corner bay on the left. I didn’t take any photos because that seemed rude…I’ll have to sneak by another day! We dropped off our packages and off we went!

We headed out through the neighborhood streets, but I learned that there are little pathways everywhere. They cut through neighborhoods and sneak around the throughways. Today, as we came to a neighborhood on a path, we found ourselves at a door to a hospital wing. There was nowhere to go but through the door! I said that I never would have followed the trail here, and they told me that the paths are VERY important in the UK and they have the right of way even when there is a hospital expansion! We just opened the door, entered, continued through, opening two more doors until we found ourselves on the other side! I asked how this worked during COVID and they said that a person sat inside the two exterior doors and squirted your hands, handed you a mask and sent you through! They are serious about their walking paths!!!

Turns out Judy is a retired “primary” teacher so we had that in common. I learned about her adult daughter and grandson moving back to England from Italy. They’d been there for more that 20 years and are in the process of selling their home. I learned more about David’s family and we talked about travel, health care, etc. You know…the usual stuff. And yes, they did carefully ask about the politics in America. They are horrified by it…but wait till you read below. We agreed that we all have our challenges, that’s for sure!

We also talked about Boris…what a “dolt” and the “horrible” tv debates that are happening among the candidates for his replacement. The process for selecting a new prime minister is fascinating. First there’s a committee that sets out the SECRET rules for the process. There are principles for how it should work in the constitution, but the rules can be modified by the committee each time this process occurs! So it starts with a couple hundred members of the conservative party (replacing a conservative) nominating potential replacements. David had already told me that the ruling class is a closed group of mostly men who attended British “public” schools which are not free-in fact are very expensive, and who don’t have any connection or understanding of “regular” society. He describes the UK as being classist and this system of a relatively few men voting only solidifies that the government’s out of touch position.

With this prime minister replacement process, eight (or so?) nominees received enough initial votes and they then debated in a public setting. From there, the select members of the conservative party have a secret vote. Candidates must receive 30 votes to go to the next round. Two were eliminated last week in the first round. Six remain. When it gets down to two, a couple hundred thousand “grassroot” party members vote and ballots are mailed out for this step. AND WAIT FOR IT…This is the process for the conservative party! The UK Labour Party has a different process if it occurs to “their” prime minister. Isn’t that NUTS??? I have had the pleasure of going to Parliament twice and it is an incredible experience. I’d sure love to be there for this event! I can just hear the call of “Order!!!” If you’ve heard it on tv, you know it!

Anyway…lots to talk about! When we returned to Judy’s house at about 11:30, we did indeed have a glass (or two for some of us) of a lovely French white wine that David brought. They usually would enjoy it in the garden, but it was too hot so we retired to her sitting room. It was very British in all the best ways. After some more conversation, David and I retraced our steps back to Ivy Lane!

Truly a lovely experience in Canterbury.

When you watch as much HHI as we do, you learn to moderate your expectations of housing abroad. There are no “Texas” sized kitchens in the British Airbnb system…unless you are renting a manor house with a butler. We are not.

Here are a couple shots of our downstairs and mind you, it is plenty for us.

And happy Sunday morning to you all!

Part 1 – The DAY

I was feeling a bit of melancholy on this morning’s wander. Today is the final day of the British Open. It is the most prestigious golf tournament in the world. This is particularly so if you view from any place other than the US. Most simply refer to it as The Open. Well, this years tournament is the 150th playing and it is at St Andrews – The Home of Golf. The Olde Course is the venue and appropriately so.

Back in 2009 I and seven of my bestest buddies traveled to the UK for some golf. We had postponed the trip originally scheduled for the fall of 2008 due to my cancer diagnosis and treatment. We rescheduled for the last two weeks of April. One of my travel mates, Dave Schnapp, has made numerous trips to golf most all parts of the UK. Dave, a wonderful golfer, has it all figured out. So, we relied on Dave’s wisdom to great benefit. We would be spending two weeks in three locations; in and around Edinburgh, in and around St. Andrews and in and around northeast England. AND it just so happens, were our cards to play right, we’d be playing the Olde Course on April 24, 2009, my 51st birthday.

To play the Olde Course at St. Andrews you enter a lottery. Of course Dave has this figured out. Much like another dearest buddy Mike Quillin and the lottery for passes to hike Half Dome (another story for another day!). Well we were fortunate to get two tee times for the early afternoon – perfect. And leave it to my buddies, they made my day so special. While at St. Andrews we stayed at the Dunvegan Inn. It is owned by a Scottish lass (Sheena) and her American husband and Texas A&M alum and booster (won’t hold that against him!). It is a pub on the bottom with 6 to 8 “double rooms” upstairs. Close your eyes, think of a 17th century pub and inn and the vision in your mind will only do it 50% of the justice it deserves. The morning of my birthday my buddies with Sheena’s assistance had arranged a private tour for me, and only me in the Royal & Ancient and a private viewing of the Claret Jug. What a special start to the day. We made our way over to the Olde Course, a full sand iron’s distance from the Dunvegan. After taking care of the formalities, we made our way the 50 feet or so to the first tee. One of the very unique features of the Olde Course, there are many, is that the 1st and 18th sit side by side with the 18th green being right next to the 1st tee. It is a bit of a lovely St. Andrews golfer traffic jam as golfers make their way this way and that. As we were on the tee, the starter came on the PA and announced “Now on the 1st tee, celebrating his 51st birthday, Glen Thomas”. I received a wonderful ovation from all those around. I was so nervous I could barely get my peg in the ground to tee up my ball. After a couple of practice swings I proceeded to hit one down the middle. I was incredibly grateful for having that 80 yard wide fairway to try to hit. I proceeded to play the next 5 or 6 holes in a euphoric fog, weeping with joy.

The Olde Course is an “out & in” setup. That means you have an outward 9 and an inward 9. This is not particularly unique, especially for links golf. The unique part of the Olde Course is the “spin” it takes for holes 8 through 11. As we came down the 18th fairway we walked across the Swilken Bridge. There are so many iconic photos (Jack Niklaus, Tome Watson, etc.) of famous golfers walking, for the final time of competitive golf, across that bridge. Tiger made the walk on Friday. I could feel and relate to his emotions that clearly were overtaking him. The day before my birthday, my buddies had made arrangements for a professional photographer to take a group photo of us on the Swilken Bridge. (I don’t have it on my phone. If I did I would post. Maybe one of them reading this would post the photo in a comment?) And then to wrap it all up, I noticed something different as we approached the green. Sheena had attached ribbons and balloons to the flag stick.

I’m not certain I know what I shot that day, it really is unimportant.

That evening we had dinner in the pub. And again I was surprised. Sheena got everyones’ attention in the pub, it seemed there were nearly 100 people, and announced to the diners / drinkers that I was celebrating my 51st birthday. Again cheers and toasts and way too many scotches.

Out front of the Dunvegan is a lovely bench. At half two or so, I sat there, by myself, reflecting on such a special day. I cried my eyes out. Tears of gratitude and joy. It was still my birthday in the US, so I called Joyce. I shared the events of the day and we laughed and cried together.

Part 2 – Other Days

I’m not certain if it was the day before or the day after golf on my 51st. We were nearly a week into the UK journey and I needed to do laundry. Most simply use the hotel, or some other similar service. NOT ME! You see, I love to do my laundry. It somehow makes me feel close to Mom. I get the same warm, embraced feeling when I cook and spend the time to be thoughtful. There is something for me while I am traveling, particularly internationally that makes me want to do my laundry. I’ve done laundry in Dublin with Jim in 2004. I did emergency laundry with Blair in 2006 in Rome. I found a laundry service in St. Andrews with Steve in 2009. I did laundry with Todd in West London in 2018. And finally below, I’m doing my laundry here in Canterbury. I love the part of doing the laundry. Of figuring it all out. Of the neighborhoods it often takes me that I would not otherwise visit. Of the people I come across and often engage in conversation. I absolutely adore these days.

I am eternally grateful for special days like that day in St. Andrews. I have truly been blessed to have had many of those days. And for some “weirdo” reason I really am compelled to take great joy in those common days. Those normal days. Those other days.

Enjoy all your days!

As promised, I went back to St. Martin’s when it was open so that I could go inside. If possible, it’s an even lovelier day than when I was there a few days ago.

St. Martin’s is a UNESCO SITE and is said to be the oldest church in continuous use in all of the English-speaking world. It is thought to have been built by the Romans, dating to the 4th century. Services are still held on Sundays and I think I’ll go this weekend. If you know me, you know that I’m not a religious person, but the experience of spirituality, especially connected to history, always fills me with emotion. My son says that my behavior around religion and church confuses him. I confuse myself, too.

The original church was built by a pagans. King Ethelberht of Kent renovated it (c 580) for his French wife from Tours who was Christian. St. Martin was a bishop from Tours so that must be the naming connection. It is thought that the pope in Rome sent the missionary Augustine to the north following the marriage of the two countries. King Ethelberht converted to Christianity and was baptized in the church. He later donated land that eventually became the site of Canterbury Cathedral and thus, wide-scale conversion to Christianity began. King Ethelberht was sainted for his contribution to the establishment of Christianity among the Anglo-Saxons. His wife, Queen Bertha, continued to travel the short distance to St. Martin’s to worship throughout her life and is buried at St. Augustine’s Abbey. It seems like a real love story between the queen and king!

The monks that were sent to St. Martin’s to begin converting the Anglo-Saxons to Catholicism found the church too small so they extended it. Later, the Puritans changed some of the windows and doors. It has mostly been restored to its form during the time of the original king and queen.

In 1844, a hoard of gold coins, likely from the 6th century was found in one of the graves. There is no information about the person who was wearing the necklace for his/her internment. Such a mystery!

Wandering the graveyard is lovely. It’s very peaceful with some peek-a-boo views of the cathedral and St. Augustine Abbey. Sadly, the Victorians planted trees that obscure the view today.

At the risk of being a nosy neighbor or a voyeur…

8:00 am on a Friday:

mom with 4 kids walking toward town center – 6 year old in school uniform leading the group, followed by mom pushing a stroller with an infant AND carrying a 3 year old on her shoulders, with a 4 year old trailing behind

man heading away from town with his beer in hand – a bit early or maybe late?

painter – based on the paint on his clothing and backpack – heading to work

So many!!!! All the uniformed students heading to the school near the abbey – girls in plaid pleated skirts, white shirts with the school crest, many girls with skirts rolled up at the waist to shorten them (but not all), many wearing dark tights or white socks, some with navy blue blazers, boys in navy slacks, white shirts and ties, some with blazers, with school crests on the pocket, most with white socks and some sort of loafer or sneaker, traveling in small groups, a few walking individually with earpods, all with heavy backpacks/bookbags, some with lunch bags, lots of phones in hand, a few riding or pushing bikes

An aside – “public” school means something different here – it means that anyone can attend…if they can afford the tuition. The “ruling” class comes through the public school system here which as David says, contributes to the continued class-based, closed society. He offers that England’s ruling class has little connection to the majority of the people of England because they don’t ever interact or engage with them. There are also tuition-free schools termed “state” schools which receive funding from the government and follow national curriculum. Within the “state” schools there are a variety of other names, formats or focus.

younger children heading to school toward town center – they are wearing blue shorts or pants and white or light blue polo shirts – they are all with an adult

group of 8 men heading toward the carpark or bus with their weekend duffle bags (two with rollers)

family of four heading to the carpark or bus with their massive suitcases

father and young son with a suitcase and an ice chest heading to the carpark or bus

lots of city workers, shopkeepers, etc. carrying plastic shopping bags – maybe with lunch? heading into town

plenty of tourists heading to town center – not sure why so early – coffee?

modes of transportation – foot, scooter, electric scooter, skateboard, bike, car (though there’s no where for the cars to go so I’m not sure where they end up. There is a hotel with a small parking lot and business office at the end of the street. And to clarify – our street is a dead end. It stops where the pedestrian tunnels to go under the roundabout road and into the town center which is why we have so much foot traffic.

David dressed in his navy slacks (patched on the bum), brown loafers, textured navy blue sweater, maroon scarf, cap and maybe no hearing aid as he didn’t hear me call out to him and only a few short minutes later he came back the same way

older man (white hair) wearing shorts walking his two large dogs – or being walked by his two large dogs

group of four 15 year old boys (dressed in gym shorts so not heading to school) standing at the Love Lane sign (with the gin sign) for a selfie

pub owners taking their 3 young girls out the door (they must live above the pub) – at least one to school based on how she was dressed – they just came back. Mom ran upstairs and came back down with a tiny pair of crocs and her car keys in hand. Dad starting the work day putting out the sandwich board adverts (“gin” with an arrow pointing to the pub sign is a favorite) and washing the window sills (he even came and washed our sill which is right above one of his signs. Mom just returned and parked the “Two Sawyers” family car on the sidewalk next to the pub door. Cleaning out the car in preparation for…? They seem to have a coordinated work day. Oooh…delivery of supplies coming in on a pushcart. Dad jumped in the car and is heading out…more supplies? Yesterday there must have been a “Costco” run in the morning because they came home and unloaded a car full of restaurant supplies (food, paper products, cleaning products, etc.)

Those are a few highlights from my hour or window watching. Time to head out for my walk and become a part of the flow!

Good morning!

I don’t know where to start so I’ll start at the beginning. (Isn’t that a song from The Sound of Music?). As Glen said, we’ve been here in Canterbury since Friday and it already feels like an old friend. And by old, I mean olde!

Canterbury is a mid-sized city so it’s really manageable to figure out and get around. It has a large (at least larger than I expected) cobblestoned, medieval olde town that’s just a hop skip and a jump away from our dwelling. The narrow streets full of cafés and shops provide plenty of opportunity for people watching, shopping and just generally enjoying the vibe. The river Stour runs through town so I think there is a punting experience in my future (or at least a river “cruise”)!

I took a walking tour yesterday so I learned a bit about the history of the town and especially the cathedral. It’s graduation week for the University of Kent so the cathedral itself is closed for services. I’ll go inside next week. One thing that I found unique about Canterbury is that you can’t even get on the cathedral grounds without a ticket. I can’t think of another cathedral I’ve visited where you can’t go right up to it, if not even in it…for free. Now I understand. It was built at the center of the town with gates and buildings surrounding it that closed at 9:00 pm every night. If you were a villager and you weren’t inside the gates and home by 9:00, tough luck. So today they are able to keep the cathedral isolated from the rest of the town and monitor its access. I guess all those fees help pay for the ongoing restoration.

Canterbury has 3 UNESCO sites – The cathedral, St. Augustin Abbey which is a stone’s throw away from our house, and St. Martin’s Church and cemetery. I happened upon St. Martin’s church on a morning wander. I later learned of its status. More on that church in a future post.

There are larger medieval (even back to Roman) walls around the wider section of the city that are evident in places throughout town and even a section that you can walk along. There are also 11 or so gates remaining. As I’ve walked around town, I’ve seen several of the gates, including the one with the jail. Yesterday I learned the origins of the phrase “living on a shoestring”. In medieval times, debtors were considered to be breaking the law and were thrown in jail with the murderers, etc. The only way to get out of jail was to pay your debt which was hard since you were stuck in jail. To remedy the problem, they put debtors in cages and wheeled them into town where they took off their shoes and tied them to the outside of their cage hoping that passersby would take pity on them and drop some coins in their shoes…thus “living on a shoestring”.

The old Canterbury castle is just a ruins, but there are plenty of other VERY old buildings in town. Most of the buildings are timber, though many have been covered in tiles to make them look like brick. One wouldn’t want to be considered poor by having a wooden house so they covered the wood with tiles to look expensive.

Canterbury was hit by the Nazis, but due to the quick thinking of the community and a “holy wind” that blew the missiles north of the cathedral, most of the town was saved. It was rebuilt, but not in the architecture of surrounding buildings so eventually they tore down the post WWII modern and utilitarian buildings and rebuilt the section of town to look like the original buildings. Good move.

Our little street, Ivy Lane is crossed by Love Lane and our house literally sits at the corner of the two. We see this view out our living room window. The oldest house on the street is dated 1627. I’ve already written about Two Sawyers pub (1779) and coffee shop across the street.

AND here’s the real story I want to tell…we met David, our next door neighbor, the other day when he came by to invite us over for a drink. Today we joined David in his home, built in 1631, for a glass of wine and conversation. David is 82 years old and an academic. His house is FULL of books, just like you’d imagine an 82 year old academic’s house to look. Literally floor to ceiling books. Our Aussie neighbor, Olivier had told us that David was an authority on Karl Marx so I spent some time studying up on Wikipedia so I wouldn’t embarrass myself if the conversation went that direction. I did the ol’ “cram for the test” method so don’t expect to have me answer your Marxism questions because I already forgot what I learned!

David is of Scottish descent, but was born in England. He went to Oxford (and a couple other universities), lived in France and according to Wikipedia, considered becoming a Jesuit for a time. During that time, he became enamored with Karl Marx’s theories (philosophies?) and has spent his life studying and writing about him and others who interested him. Glen borrowed a biography he wrote about a woman who sounds very interesting. David has written and published more than 20 books! He’s a very interesting 82 year old chap. He has a daughter and granddaughters who live in town (and another daughter and her family in France) and it seems that he is quite involved with them. all He has been walking the “Camino” in France and Spain with the girls for years. They just finished a section last week. We thoroughly enjoyed our time with David and look forward to having over to our home soon. And he and I have a date for a walk with his widow friend next week and I can’t wait!!

Here’s a postscript to our visit with David last night. This morning, he popped by our window and I opened our door to see him in full Scottish dress – kilt, socks with knife, sash, etc. etc. He was acting a bit odd and it turns out he’d locked himself out of his house as he was leaving for his granddaughter’s graduation and forgotten his hearing aids so he couldn’t hear a thing. He was flustered trying to find someone who had an extra key to his house. He thought our landlords had a key and I sent a quick email asking about it, but they took it with them! Big help that was. We did find a key that looked like his, but it didn’t work so after knocking on another neighbor’s door to no avail, I think he had to just head out to London “deaf” as he said. I wish I’d gotten a picture of him in full Scottish dress, but it didn’t feel like it was the time. Also, he was dressed per his granddaughter’s request! How sweet is that?!

And another postscript before I could get this post published…our pub neighbors came over to help me with the trash system this morning. Turns out they have a key to our house should we get stuck. AND as we were leaving for the train station for our matinee in London, we found a 90 year old woman (okay I’m guesstimating) unlocking David’s door. Turns out she’s his housecleaner! (I’m guessing her eyesight isn’t too good based on the cleanliness of his house.) She just laughed at David forgetting his key. She was going to hide one outside for him. What a lovely community of caretakers!

Finally…I’ll try to end this post…I had another of “those” unplanned experiences this morning. The kind that really makes travel special.

I was for a walk by myself and I came upon a small stone church with a graveyard. Always an irresistible stop for me. I saw that the church had an “open” sign and as I entered, a woman followed me in. I didn’t want to be disrespectful in case she were there to pray, so I tried to be unobtrusive in the back. I saw that she definitely was not heading to a pew for prayer as she started poking around so I poked around, too. She finally told me that she was looking for Thomas More’s crypt. Thomas More? Sounds familiar. Hmm…We had a lovely chat where she educated me on the history of Thomas More. He was a prominent Catholic who refused to agree to the annulment of King Henry’s marriage to Catherine of Aragon so that he could marry Anne Boleyn. In order to get around the pope’s supremacy and refusal to the annulment, Henry decided to go his separate way and declare his own supremacy of the (new) Anglican church. Thomas More remained allegiant to the Catholic pope and stood by his beliefs and though he didn’t publicly decry Henry’s plans, even his silence led to his trial and eventual decapitation for treason. More also chose to educate his girls in the classics just like his son was educated. This was BLASPHEMY in the day.

For his sins against the king (and his second wife, Anne Boleyn), Thomas More’s head was placed on a pike outside London Tower for a month as a warning to anyone who was considering standing by the Catholic church. His daughter gathered his head at the end of the month and took it to her church in Canterbury where it was entombed near the alter. Thomas More was later sainted by the Catholic Church.

Then as my new acquaintance finished my education, she looked at her watch and said she had to get to class! She took the time to tell me that she was taking a “master gilding” course. Ahh…my ignorance (or shall I say poor education?) again. Gilding…that sounds familiar…She popped open her phone to show me photos of what she is working on…she is gilding (gold leafing) a large mirror frame using the original techniques from the Middle Ages. Cool, right?!

And this is why we travel…to meet the Davids and gilders of the world.

PPPS Thank you Mike and Nancy for correcting my spelling of gild!!! Gives the post a whole new meaning!

We arrived last Friday evening. Today is Wednesday. I went out for my first wander this morning.

The neighborhood we are in is adjacent to Town Center. Town center is circled by a couple of main thoroughfares. And to get across these thoroughfares and into Town Center are a labyrinth of tunnels. The photo below is one of the signs posted at the entry way of every one of these tunnels. It got me to thinking.

Yes, I believe each of us as humans needs to feel safe. Yet, we define safe differently. And we bring each of our unique situations to that safety equation. For instance, I am white and male. This makes for a significantly safer path through life than those that are neither. I share those characteristics with a huge portion of the worlds population. I’m also 6’6 1/2″ tall. Well, at least I used to be before I began my late life process of shrinking (that MUST be another post). I was also born into a middle class traditional family during one of the greatest times (post WWII US) and places to be born. Simply put, I won the lottery!! And on those days when I am wallowing in self pity, I do my best to remind myself of my lottery winnings.

The sign also led me to thinking about Joyce and I as we live out the remainder of our lives. As we adventure as long as we are able. Do we need to be safe? Heck yes. And yet the safe thing to do for me would be to stay in Walnut Creek, enjoy the fruits of our labors and slide into nothingness.

One of my heroes, Neil Young, sings “It is better to burn out, than to fade away!”

We love our Two Sawyers pub (circa 1796) and Phoebe’s coffee shop right across the way (15 steps to be exact). We enjoyed coffee yesterday morning and in the evening we popped over for a gin and tonic and dinner. The pub had quite a few “young” people in it so Glen asked the drinking age in GB – it’s 18. No one was unruly or anything, we had just forgotten this difference between our two countries.

Later in the evening, there was live guitar music and he was playing “oldies” from the 60s and 70s. We enjoyed our own “private” concert so much that I walked the 15 steps over to give him a tip. He was surprised and grateful! I saw him go tell the bartender that he received a tip from the neighbors. Pretty cool, right?

But there is a down side to living on a tiny street with direct passage to Old Town and across the street from a pub…and you are probably already guessing the challenge presented by that location. Last night at 2:00 am we woke to a man’s voice pleading with a woman to “wake up”. “Leyla (or was it Lola? Lila?), wake up, pleeeeaaaasssseee.” After this went on a few minutes, I got up and looked out the window (nosy boomer here) and there she was on her side, spread out on the sidewalk (it’s not really a sidewalk) apparently fast asleep. And that’s giving her the benefit of the doubt. The pleading continued and Leyla (we’ll stick with that name) could be heard muttering. unintelligibly. The man eventually asked her to tell him “the number” which I thought was a phone number, but we later agreed it was more likely the code to get in the house. Leyla started reeling off numbers (8675309, anyone?) and the man would repeat them and then she’d reel them off again though I’m not sure it was the same string of numbers.

Glen finally got up and yelled out the window telling him the numbers that she’d muttered, hoping the man would hear him and get the dang door opened so that Leyla could get to bed! After awhile, somehow the man got Leyla up and they made their way past our windows down the lane a bit, but not far because Leyla went down on the sidewalk again for another little nap and the pleading started all over again. A few minutes later another man arrived and was hollering down the street asking questions. It sounded like the two men knew each other and that he’d been called in for reinforcements. Sadly, a few minutes later the second man walked away and man #1 was on his own again.

I wish I could tell you how this situation resolved, but it got quieter for a bit and I drifted off to sleep. No sign of Leyla on the street this morning so my guess is that they finally got the code sorted out and made their way into the cottage. Someone was going to need a serious hangover cure this morning! Like I said…young and dumb and hungover!