First item of disappointment was the leaflet you got with your ticket, the leaflet which is mainly diagrams of the cathedral. But the front is a smiling picture of the Queen and the back is a couple of lurid advertisements for other attractions. St. Paul's sinking to the level of a.n. other attraction. As a heritage loving atheist, I want a bit more decorum in my churches. Perhaps further evidence - after the squatter performance last year - of the lack of judgement of the management of the place.
I had forgotten what a big place it is, with the central space seeming much larger than that in a more old-fashioned cathedral, although this might be as much to do with the absence of rood screen as with size of nave. Choir not shut off from the customers, although there might be a price in the form of more drafts for the choir boys - and girls - there was a lady assistant at Communion, so I dare say there are choir ladies too.
First item of interest was the very large font, which, rather irreverently, made me think of ducks in the bath.
Second item of interest was the collection of rather louche statues of naval heroes. A rather hard life, with two or three that I noticed having joined up at 13 or 14 and served until they found glory as captains (or post-captains for those that remember their Hornblower) at 45 or 46, quite possibly without all that much time ashore in their 30 years or so of naval life. One of the monuments, in addition to a lightly clad hero, included what looked like a frieze of Lemuel Gulliver being tied up by the natives. Another with one which reminded me of Noah's Ark.
Up to the high altar to admire the elaborate canopy. If one sat in the right place one had an elaborately gilded vista, rather impressive if rather Romish in flavour, despite the absence of statues of the Virgin. Not sure if the canopy counted as a ciborium.
As a round off to the Pre-Raphaelites, admired the large version of 'The Light of the World', which here did not seem to be such a silly picture as it did in the exhibition at the Tate; there is still some point in what Hunt is saying. A pity that it was so badly lit, which meant that one only got a decent view from one spot to the right.
Walking west back from behind the altar, I was impressed by the unfolding vistas of the crossing, effects which one did not get when stationary. And further impressed by the trompe-l'œil painting on the inside of the dome: Wren (or one of his chaps) was confident enough to mix the real with the fake in this in-your-face way. Not sure if a modern architect would get away with it.
Down to the basement where the tablets for various arty types had been confined. And while Wellington had pride up place upstairs, Nelson had the grander monument downstairs. Perhaps because he got there first, he was able to snaffle the best spot.
Rather cold and wet we bused it back to Waterloo, where we paid a visit to the headquarters of Konditor & Cook which, despite being a fancy baker, appeared to be doing as much business in lunch time sandwiches as in cakes. And fancy enough that we had to settle for one loaf of rosemary & potato and another of rye. The first turned out to be rather good, even if I would never have known about the potato had it not said on the label. Of a texture and appearance which I cannot get near in my own efforts. The second remains to be opened but I suspect it will be rather dark and heavy, best consumed in thin slices with cheese.
Pulling into Epsom we kept an eye out for the horselet (see 7th January) but could see him (or her). Checked this morning to find that he had been rescued (see illustration). I wondered when a rescue counted as a theft.
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