heavenly voices

Today I sat next to the tomb of Sarah Nevill, wife of the Earl of Nevill, I think, who died and was buried so long ago that the etching that states the year on her epitaph has been rubbed away after centuries of being walked on in processions and such by devotees at Westminster Abbey. If my chair had been placed 8 inches to the right, I would have been sitting on Sarah Nevill, wife of the Earl of Nevill. I think nowadays her family name would be Neville. As in Longbottom. But she’d be less handy with a wand, probably, which is good considering I had to walk over her to leave the place. We went to the evensong service at Westminster, and it was absolutely heavenly (and not just because of the large number of deceased attendees – in fact it occurs to me there may have been fewer live people at the service than otherwise). The choir was perfect in a way that makes you understand why music has been so central to worship for so many centuries. There was a good assortment of tourists and people who seemed to know what they were doing. We were surrounded by a good assortment of monuments to/tombs of famous Brits who contributed to history in big ways, regardless of whether they knew what they were doing. We said ‘ah-men’ at the end of our prayers. Nobody talked.

I kind of like that about London. People seem to know when to stay quiet. So far, we’ve been in several situations (once on the tube at the height of morning rush hour) where lots of people are together in a small space and nobody is saying anything – not a thing. I’ll report on our first cinema and theatre experiences and let you know if it holds there too. As for the choir, they did an excellent job of not staying quiet. As far as I could tell, not a note was out of place and the entire a cappella service was exactly as the Lord intended. I’ll bet Sarah was pleased – I was.

After the service we walked to Chelsea. For anyone not familiar with London, that’s about an hour of pavement time. Some of us who shall not be named (me) thought of taking the bus. Some of us who shall not be named, but are male, encouraged others not to. It was a pretty walk, through some of London’s most prime real estate, judging by the cars parked along the road. We had dinner in Chelsea (wild boar sausages were on the menu) and made our way home. Suffice it to say we are properly knackered. Note the use of British colloquialisms.

Someday we’ll get pictures up. Goodness knows we take enough of them.