Day three, a Canterbury tale

Well, the title rather spoils the surprise of where my grand day out of London took me, as the last part of my triumvirate of tasks for this holiday weekend. But I can never resist a good title. Why Canterbury? I'd been soliciting for ideas at work and someone suggested Canterbury. It's a name that's mentioned with fair frequency, if only because of it's most famous... hmm, I was about to say resident, but if I recall correctly his official residence is Lambeth Palace. Regardless, because of this association I'd already built up a strong mental image of what Canterbury should look like, all rolling hills and churches and cloisters, despite the fact it was a complete mystery to me. Well not a complete mystery - I knew there was a cathedral after all. As I discovered, my mental image wasn't too far from the truth - save for the rolling hills at least.

It's a picturesque little town. I'm often slightly biased when it comes to assessing the appearance of other towns and cities, since my judgement is clouded by my lifelong fondness for Edinburgh which I still regard as one of the most beautiful cities I've have the good fortune to encounter. Still, my traversals across England, few though they may, have shown me that this peculiar country is prettier than some of it's major cities might otherwise suggest. Places like Chester and Norwich, for example, are remarkably well preserved and seemed to have escaped the mass of sixties concrete architecture which plague larger cities like London and Manchester (although my bias against Manchester stems from the large chunk of it that was blown to smithereens whilst I was visiting for the first time. It went bang, loudly) and even my beloved Edinburgh. Canterbury is also reasonably unscathed. Like Chester, the center of the town is built inside of a Roman fort, the walls of which still surround it. It's a small enough town that it doesn't take long to circle the center, and it's a pleasant walk, some of which runs atop the fortress walls. You can't wander far before you notice the catherdral which dominates the skyline. Whatever my thoughts might be on religion, I still love old churches and catherdrals. Perhaps it's the reverance people show in them, tip-toeing around, speaking in hushed voices, but I suspect sheer granduer plays a large part. It's a truely imposing structure, vast in scale and ambition with the oldest part of it dating back some 900 years. It's almost impossible to imagine such a construction being undertaken today. It's a marvellous old building.

After yesterdays educational experience at the National Portrait Gallery, I was in two minds as to whether or not to sign up for the audio tour of the Catherdral. I was curious about the history of the building, but in this age of the internet such information is easily found, and I found myself enjoying simply walking around gawping. Plus it also meant that I could listen to the sepulcharal voice which periodically emanated from a tannoy . More fitting in Disneyland's Haunted Mansion than in such an ancient setting, the voice gravely intoned that it hoped everyone was enjoying themselves. The effect was rather like Eeyore morosely wishing you a good day. It also went on to recite the Lords prayer which caught me unawares and I found myself mentally repeating the lines along with it until I stopped myself. There's only a thin division between education and indoctrination, isn't there?

After the cathedral I wandered around the town for a little while, up and down cobbled streets and squares admiring the compact nature of the place. I'm far too used to the vastness of London and I can't help but think of smaller towns as being quaintly provincial. Canterbury confounded my expectations by seeming remarkably complete. It looked like a pleasant place to live, and I could picture myself merrily eeking out my days in such a setting. However, one negative thing that did occur to me in my wanderings was just how homogenised British high streets have become. This seemed highlighted in Canterbury by virtue of it's population of wonderful old gabled buildings which seem unfamiliar with the concept of right angles. They're marvelous constructions which sit wholly at odds with the high street names which infest them. They're precisely the same arrangement of shops you'd see on any high street in any part of the country. It's true that Canterbury isn't devoid of smaller shops selling more whimsical fare, but these seem to have been pushed down small alleys, further and further away from the center which is dominated by too familiar names like McDonalds, Gap and Starbucks, the latter of which incongruously borders the entrance to the cathedral. I suppose it's the nature of the beast, but I can't help but wonder what the streets would have looked like even just twenty years ago. Come to think of it, I wonder what they'll look like twenty years from now...

Anyway, enough prattle. I've had a most enjoyable weekend and I'm glad I broke out from my usual routine - I don't think I was aware just how restrictive it had become until now. It's remarkable the things we can take for granted. There's another bank holiday coming up at the end of May now. I think I can feel a trip to Paris coming on...