Cathedrals and the Divine

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My friend, Cristy, her husband, and her brother made their way over to England this past week and we were lucky enough to meet up with them in Bristol for a whirlwind tour of towns and cathedrals along the Welsh/English border.

We all tumbled into the car, fastened our seat belts, and away we went, thanks to AP, who did all the driving. 

First stop… Tintern Abbey, near Chepstow, Wales.  It’s a breath-taking abbey ruin that will not disappoint.

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Second stop… a tour of Hereford Cathedral, where we saw the Mappa Mundi and a chained library.

Information is precious.  Books had to be chained to the shelves so that people couldn’t steal them.  Also, stealing books could have a penalty of death!  (The docent nodded knowingly when he saw my eyes open wide as he passed on that fact during the presentation.)

We ended our tour in the Cotswolds where we viewed Tewkesbury Abbey.  The abbey’s construction began in the 12th century and escaped King Henry VIII’s Dissolution of  the Monasteries  in 1539 when the locals paid him off to spare their place of worship and so there is an intact, medieval cathedral in Tewkesbury, which should not be missed.

The organist practiced while we sat in the pew and shared some long-lost wish or a secret pain to one another.  Sometimes the music stopped abruptly and our wish or secret was blurted right out loud in the nave and we covered our mouths in shock.  Then we whispered.  Then the loud music stared again and the cycle was repeated.  I think we got all of our secrets, grievances and dreams out of the way before we left which seems fitting, somehow.

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 Finally, I met and loved up this little spaniel in a local pub. 


And that was the end to a perfect day.  


11 thoughts on “Cathedrals and the Divine

  1. Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
    That on a wild secluded scene impress
    Thoughts of more deep seclusion

    Tintern Abbey, Wordsworth

    1. Oh well done! Doug, the English teacher, spoke of that poem while we were there and I had no idea — All I know of Wordsworth is something, something daffodils.

  2. Something, something daffodils – Yes! I found that poem for my mom the other day so she could read it to her weekly poetry group:)

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