It was a brilliantly sunny Easter Day in London, which made all the difference—since, like so many days here, one usually expects changeable weather. After a delicious lunch cooked by Sandra, complete with all the traditional Easter fare—hors d’oevres, mint lamb, chocolate profiteroles, and of course the Easter egg, a rather sorry affair after the wonderful specimens we are used to having in Italy—we decided to go to Chiswick House and Gardens to see the camellias.
We had seen them before in the conservatory there and I remembered especially us taking Sandra’s mother to enjoy them during her Indian summer days. Unfortunately, we discovered that the conservatory was now closed—apparently due to its wood rotting away—so the only camellias we could find were those growing outside. They were still beautiful, though not quite what we had hoped for.
From there we wandered through the grounds towards Chiswick House itself, that elegant Palladian villa built by Lord Burlington to demonstrate to the British what classical architecture ought to be like. Nearby, we came across a cheerful Easter market, full of stalls selling honey, pickles, scarves, and all manner of other goods. It was pleasing to see not only traditional English crafts, but also items reflecting a wider range of cultures.
After that, we made our way to Brompton Oratory for Easter Mass. Our intention had been to attend what we thought was the High Mass at six o’clock—but that turned out to be mistaken (our AI friend Justine having again misinformed us). In fact, the principal Mass, with its full panoply of some of the finest church music in the capital, had been at eleven in the morning—which, of course, we could never have managed alongside Easter lunch.
When we arrived in Knightsbridge, strolling along its elegantly plush streets (complete with golden BWV) we discovered that the evening Mass was actually at seven pm. We hesitated—but then thought, how could one end Easter Day without going to Mass? So we waited.
It was well worth it. By seven, the church was already quite full. The Oratory, with its grand neo-Roman Baroque style, remains one of the most impressive churches in London—indeed, the largest of its kind before Westminster Cathedral was built. The priest gave a remarkable sermon—so compelling that it almost made me believe in eternal life.
And yet, one wonders: would eternal life truly be desirable? Or might it be something quite different from what we imagine—a kind of transformed or “super” life? These were the thoughts lingering as the day drew to a close. Meanwhile Sandra lit a candle for those relatives and friends of ours who hadn’t made it to this year’s Easter. lAfter returning home, we rounded off the evening with a bottle of something sparkling, a light supper, and then bed—content, if slightly pensive—after what had been a truly beautiful and sunlit Easter Day.
