There can be no more sublimely English way of spending a Sunday afternoon than attending Evensong at Westminster Abbey. Formally named the collegiate church of Saint Peter at Westminster the Abbey has been the scene of coronations (40), royal weddings (16) and funerals for almost a thousand years. It is, indeed, the heart of the highest ceremonial moments of this island kingdom’s history. Its very stones speak of pageant, despair and hopes.
Founded as a Benedictine monastery in the tenth century Westminster Abbey is the burial place of over twenty members of royalty including the following monarchs: Edward the Confessor, Henry III, Edward I, Edward III, Richard II, Henry V, Henry VII, Edward VI, Mary I, Elizabeth I, James I, Charles II, Mary II, William III, Anne and George II. In addition the Abbey is also the pantheon of British greats, over four thousand of them including Britain’s most noteworthy artists, men of letters and scientists.
Within the French-inspired Gothic architecture of the building (few other cathedrals in Britain have a curved Chevet, for example) we were guided to the choir and seated in one of its pews in readiness for an hour of the finest words and music the Anglican tradition can provide.
Much of the music sung by the choir was by Herbert Howells, the doyen of twentieth century English church music. The words from the Bible, the Book of Common Prayer and the sermon instilled reflection and peace in us. One evening prayer has always captured my attention. It’s the one containing the words ‘defend us from all perils and dangers of this night’. Every time I hear them I get goose pimples!
Westminster Abbey has a rather strict policy regarding photography. It doesn’t allow it. Clearly taking pictures during a service here would be a bit like attending the monarch with chewing gum in one’s mouth. However, at the abbey’s entrance I managed these:
Where does the scone in my title enter? In the Coronation chair on which our latest monarch was crowned just a couple of months ago. The stone of Scone is the sacred sandstone slab on which Scottish kings were crowned and upon which monarchs of the United Kingdom are now made kings and queens. The stone is sacred because it is supposed to be the pillow the ancient patriarch Jacob placed his head on at Bethel when he saw a vision of angels. I prefer my own duck-feather cushion myself!
Barely an hour later we entered a very different scenario. In the Royal borough of Richmond the artists’ studios of Eel Pie island (named after an inn which once sold these delicacies beloved of true cockneys) had opened their normally private doors to the public.
I admit I had never been to the island before. Were we to reach it by swimming across or via a ferry? No problem, for since the 1950’s a footbridge has joined this Thames islet to the mainland.
Although enjoying my teeenage romps in the sixties I missed out on the jazz and rock bands of this archetypally ‘hippy’ island which is home to around 150 souls. I, thus, missed out on such legends as John Mayall’s Bluesbreakers, George Melly, the Rolling Stones, the Who, and the Pink Floyd. Luckily I made up for this in later years. George Melly was, for example, a regular artist at Woolwich’s legendary Tramshed and the Pink Floyd even played at our college May Ball.
Eel Pie island was a very different kettle of fish from the pomp of Westminster abbey. Here among its spread of cottages and chalets lived such luminaries as the first Doctor Who, William Hartnell, and the inventor of the wind-up radio, Trevor Baylis.
We had mixed views about the art being produced by the Eel Pie island denizens but their ambience was rather charming and reminded me a little of the laid-back atmosphere of a Caribbean island. Here no cars disturbed the peace and even cycling was forbidden along its High Street or should I say High Footpath.
Where does the Pho of our title come in? We found this typical Vietnamese soup, which consists of broth, noodles, herbs and beef or chicken, in a friendly restaurant of the same name in King Street near Ravenscourt Park which is one of London’s green spaces for which it is famous.
The park is also near the heart of the city’s Polish community and sadly we came across this memorial stone.
At the Pho restaurant a very convivial get-together of a trio of ex-Dulwich boys (me included) with their tolerant spouses and sisters brought to a conclusion what can only be termed as a perfect day for me, a part-time Londoner, ever in awe at the variety of life and places this greatest of cities offers humanity.
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