London Receiving

24 Jan Monday

Our breakfast was the largest we’ve had, cereal plus eggs and very good bacon. Our landlady--I think her name is Mrs. Reed--apparently was doing everything, but we only saw people from two other rooms. It’s not a large place. We put our bags in a downstairs sitting room and walked downtown again. We spent a good bit of time at the Cathedral, looking at the nave as well as the museum under the choir (in the crypts?) The Beckett altar apparently is closed for repairs, as are other parts of the church, including the removal of a good bit of stained glass (the whole south transept window included). But we saw the “martyrdom”, the spot where Thomas was supposed to have been killed. Susanna’s limited fondness for cathedrals and museums continued to be limited.

This stained-glass window is from 1958, located in the south-east transept. The Hungarian artist Ervin Bossanyi was a refugee from fascism who came to England in the 1930s. He drew upon the folk art of his homeland for inspiration. The title "Salvation" was particularly appropriate as he himself had fled from intolerance and oppression. It depicts Christ freeing the captive from a prison, the padlock of which has the Nazi swastika as its keyhole.

Afterwards, we walked around town, found a little sandwich shop and had some lunch. We returned to the Courtney Guest House[1] and paid up. Also, on our walk we had cashed some traveler’s checks for more British pounds and had bought some stamps to mail the postcards we had written. We also got birthday cards for both fathers, wrote those and sent them. At the Guest House, Mrs. Reed, if that’s her name, called a taxi for us. (I also forgot to mention that I had called London, Fairlawn Apts. to verify that we were still expected. We were.)

Our train left from the Canterbury East Station, and we had to wait for about 20 minutes (trains every thirty minutes or so). We also, for the first time, had to buy a ticket, making us realize the luxury of the Eurail-pass.

We shared a compartment with a woman who was quite concerned that the train might not stop at Sittingbourne (it did). Otherwise, we came pretty straight, through green fields, vineyards (?), dirty nineteenth-century train stations, and past dumpy Dickensian flats into Victoria Station. London at last.

Our first task was to find our other two suitcases (see p. 30). The customs office had them, and there was no problem except paying the £3.90 storage. The customs officer asked me if there was anything to declare and apparently trusted my answer, since I didn’t have to open either one.

Alice and Susanna had waited downstairs (2 flights). When I returned, we found a taxi and got to Elgin Crescent.

Our apartment--flat--is #4, 76 Elgin Crescent, which means we are on the fourth floor.

The girl at the office brought us over and showed us around and we, of course, agreed to take it. I returned to the office and discovered that the price information we had was a bit out of date; instead of £10 a night, we were to pay £13.50, bringing our 8 days up to £118 or so. The handyman, named Derek, helped me bring the other suitcases.

We walked to the market area, only about two blocks away, and in several stores got some grocery supplies. The market area, with its wagons of produce, was very much like the area in Paris we saw. For supper, we got some chicken from the Col. Sanders Kentucky Fried Chicken place. After our supper I called Evelyn Haller and we agreed to visit her apartment tomorrow afternoon. We watched quite a bit of television and stayed up late, although Susanna got to bed fairly early.

We have reached the end of our first journey and are now in London. The maintenance of this journal in its present copious form is not likely to continue. I will try to record the significant events. [1] We were across the street from St. Dunstan’s Church, while waiting, we visited it -- it was open. It looks very old from the outside, but remodeled on the inside. Apparently, one of the crypts there contains the head of Sir Thomas Moore.

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24 January 2022, Monday

My senior year of high school, the drama teacher (the fabulous Mrs. O'Keefe) decided it would be fun to put on T.S. Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral as our school play.

If you're not familiar with it, it's prose drama about Archbishop Thomas a Becket and his internal struggle as he faces impending martyrdom. Thomas is faced with temptations of safety, riches, power, and finally his own desire for martyrdom. I was cast as the fourth tempter, teasing Thomas (played by the ridiculously talented Mark Bollon) with the only thing he truly desired: A holy death. But my offer was for the wrong reasons.

The whole cast was awesome. One of the central characters in the drama is that of the chorus. The synchronous voices of the young women above the action, created a great effect. The Vermillion United Church of Christ wasn't quite as grand as Canterbury Cathedral, but I'd like to think we still brought a bit of southeastern England to southeastern South Dakota during the run of the play.

A note about the blog. I'm going to keep up with it as the days go on. I'll likely only repost elsewhere when something interesting happens. Feel free to subscribe to the blog if you don't want to miss the daily life in London.