The Shrine Of Thomas A Becket Canterbury Cathedral

Upon having performed a fair amount of research into the history of London, tracing the city’s past back to both it’s usage as a tidal port by Danish sailors during the early tenth century and through the Abbey System established along the banks of the Thames by Norman builders throughout the course of the following two hundred years, I have, as may well be imagined with regards to such matters, inevitably found myself drawn to attend the details of the Archbishop “Thomas a Becket’s” accidental murder by the cohorts of the English King “Henry The Second” beneath the eves of Canterbury Cathedral during the mid twelfth century, an event that, in formalizing the beginning of the Plantagenet reign upon English soil, may, in keeping with the conventions of record keeping that pertain to such things, correspondingly be observed to represent something of a standard without which any appraisal of London’s medieval heritage would appear strangely incomplete…

Standing as perhaps one of the best recorded event of it’s era, being furnished with numerous first hand accounts of the chain of incidents which were observed to have finalized it’s edict, the brutal slaughter of the archbishop within the precinct of his own church, was further witnessed to have served as the axis for a pilgrim convention that, in extending it’s invitation forth across both Britain and Europe through until it’s repudiation by “Henry the Eighth” during the mid sixteenth century, was perceived to enjoin all comers to visit Canterbury in efforts to receive trinkets from it’s community of monks and partake in something of the miracle to which the spirit of “Thomas A Becket” was then believed to ascribe.

Legendarily conducted in public upon the flagstones of what is now the Cathedral’s Trinity Chapel by five men respectively named “Reginald Fitzurse”, “Hugh De Morville”, “Richard Britto”, “William De Tracy” and “Hugh of Horsea”, “Thomas A Becket’s” murder, was observed to have occurred during an insurrection in which the city of Canterbury, having been stormed by a multitude of armed men, bore witness to the deaths of many members of the innocent clerical community that then occupied it’s churches, an instance in which that of “Thomas a Becket”, was ultimately to earn distinction from the due process of law subsequently enforced by the Plantagenet monarchy, becoming synonymous with the notion of religious martyrdom.


Nero

Some months ago, I found occasion to investigate the series of accounts devoted to the clerical agenda of the early first millennium which appeared in the “Anglo Saxon Chronicle”, a body of work that, in placing many of the occurrences that were observed to distinguish the first years of Britain’s occupation by the Roman Empire into perspective, gave me cause to reflect upon the anomaly that the period seemed to represent in retrospective terms, an instance in which Rome paradoxically appeared to both extend province across the breadth of Europe yet remain relatively local with regards to the archaeological evidence that had been employed in it’s specification…

It immediately seemed to me, as I pored through the Chronicle, that there was, in effect, not a city built during the period placed beneath my investigation that remained untouched by some evidence of Roman occupation within it’s scheme, and yet that the Empire’s axis was, nonetheless, perversely observed to rest uniquely within a relatively unexceptional Italian province upon the coast of the Mediterranean sea, a city which seemed to arise instantaneously miles away from it’s satellites as the well spring from which all classical architecture and Latin may once be presumed to have spawned…

Examining the various accounts which presently constitute the modern conception of medieval history, I would, in fact, have been inclined to imagine, with regards to such issues, that an event like the “Black Death” in the mid fourteenth century, may instead have been survived in Rome and served, by default, to reinterpret it’s Empire’s diverse and extensive character as a single Italian state at a much later date then would otherwise be supposed…

“What was the Roman Empire ?” “Was it already established in Europe before it was cited to have been founded ?” “Was it a Federal body ?”…


PART 3… THE GYRE PATCH

CHAPTER 20 CHANNEL SKIPPING

CHAPTER 21 SHALLOW GRAVE

CHAPTER 22 THE GUNPOWDER PLOT

CHAPTER 23 DREAM TIME

CHAPTER 24 FIRE IN THE HOLD

CHAPTER 25 FLYING

CHAPTER 26 RESUMPTION

CHAPTER 27 LATE IN THE DAY

CHAPTER 20

CHANNEL SKIPPING…

In covering seventy one percent of the earth’s surface and descending to depths of up to thirty five thousand feet, it may come as no surprise to those acquainted with oceanic matters, that the sea harbors secrets among it’s depths, imponderables which, despite serving as the pretext for extensive research through association with large scale naval exploration, yet succeed in resisting categorization, loitering in the…


PART 2… HAMILTON

CHAPTER 9 THE NOBLE SAVAGE

CHAPTER 10 GHOST TOWN

CHAPTER 11 ROSALIA

CHAPTER 12 THE WRITING ON THE WALL

CHAPTER 13 KNOW TRAIN TO PORTER

CHAPTER 14 A FLY IN AMBER

CHAPTER 15 SAUL

CHAPTER 16 INQUISITION

CHAPTER 17 THE ESCAPE PLAN

CHAPTER 18 THE FISHER KING

CHAPTER 19 HALLOWED GROUND

CHAPTER 9

THE NOBLE SAVAGE…

The first capital of Bermuda was, in accordance with historic references pertaining to the topic, thought to have been founded in 1612 on ‘St. Georges’ upon the isthmus of land that may be observed to project precariously forth into the Sargasso sea from the island’s Northern aspect, a location…


PART 1… THE GYRE PATCH

CHAPTER 1 HARVESTING THE SEA

CHAPTER 2 THE HOUSE IN THE TIDE

CHAPTER 3 THE SHIT BOYS

CHAPTER 4 THE SLEEP OF THE JUST

CHAPTER 5 THE ISLAND OF THE LOST

CHAPTER 6 GYROSCOPE

CHAPTER 7 THE LIGHTNING IN THE GROUND

CHAPTER 8 HEAVY HAULAGE

CHAPTER 1

A CLOSE EXCHANGE…

Limes had been grown on Bermuda since the era of the island’s first occupation by mankind in efforts to ply mariners with the Vitamin C that they were observed to deem necessary in efforts to combat the effects of Scurvy.

Perhaps through association with such usage the fruit was observed to share a perennial association…


“Says two thousand pounds will do, that he doubts not we can contract for our passage over four hundred pounds, that we shall buy the land a great deal cheaper when we arrive in America than we can do in England”.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge….

It was in the Spring of 1860 as the drowsy sweep of the Sugar Cane plantations which had, through association with the settlement of what had become a notable Irish presence along the extent of the American West coast, was recovering from the onslaught of a particularly harsh winter, that “Jeremiah Sedgewick” was assigned to commune with a friend named “Tobias Feeney“ upon the premises of the newly constructed “Evergreen Library” in Baltimore.

Jeremiah had, as he recalled, only met the individual in question once before, a meeting that, upon being entertained through collaboration with a gathering of local eminences within the restricted confines of a Pennsylvanian town house to discuss issues of religious significance had, in rallying a manner of camaraderie from those there assembled, successfully encouraged the furtive exchange of addresses which conventionally accompany such matters, a forward that, upon being presented in an amicable fashion, Jeremiah had thenceforth been compelled to oblige, duly sending correspondence towards Baltimore in efforts to preserve faith.

As Jeremiah sat prospecting the details of his forthcoming engagement within the sparse austerity of the old stock car which then rolled tirelessly across the open plains of Southern Pennsylvania, he remembered that the scheme of such correspondence, had, in countenancing the issue of religious difference which typified the term of their meeting in Pennsylvania, subsequently found occasion to diversify from it’s premium, extending to encompass the wide ranging affairs of an intellectual fraternity that his acquaintance had decided to join upon settling in Baltimore.

As Jeremiah recalled, he had, in this instance, found occasion to confide with his friend upon an assortment of conclusions drawn by his own research into the interests of such brotherhoods, citing a number of observations made by the celebrated philosopher “Francis Galton” to be of invaluable assistance with regards to such matters, an instance in…


It is something of a mystery that young children, when incapable of lending voice to their will can, in dreams, yet realize the essence of it’s initiative, achieving given objectives in defiance their fact for no other reason than that it seems possible to do so.

Children can, in this sense, be drawn to believe that they may achieve the impossible when they cannot, transgressing the conventional boundaries of reality to make sense of the world, an illusion which, in many instances, may be substantiated with such conviction that it frequently proves impossible to distinguish it’s myth from it’s toll.

In efforts to achieve goals which, in being sanctioned by erstwhile attainability, are limited by a gauntlet of unrecognized parameters, some children even see fit to bend the boundaries which govern space to suit their own purposes, inventing imaginary recourse where there is none to be had.

Whether or not explorations conducted in this manner are true, a child may be compelled to testify with great conviction that he or she has visited locations that, to all intents and purposes, do not exist and thereupon seen things which have never occurred.

Tom’s first recollections of youth related to early infancy in a small terraced maisonette built upon the flank of a vertiginous rise in the suburbs of South West London, a location which, upon occasionally serving as a sun trap, appeared in it’s manner to bless what little time he subsequently found to reflect upon such matters with a languor that he had seldom experienced since.

He could remember that his house stood not one hundred yards from a doctor’s surgery, a practice which, in having been established upon the premises of a converted town house, was haunted by an old practitioner who, in being labored beneath the weight of both his years and the amplitude of a heavy lead stethoscope, had achieved acclaim among the local community for instituting an assortment of Samaritan acts, public services which, in including, the ministration of orange juice laced with emetics and the inoculation of children against both measles and chicken pox within their compass, had earned him something of following in the surrounding region.

There was, in this instance, also a police constabulary marked with a blue light at the end of Tom’s street at the time of his birth, an establishment which, in having been transformed into a dental surgery of a similar variety to the medical practice, notably preserved the curious lantern housing through which it had once achieved distinction within the enclave of it’s portico.

He recalled dimly that police interests had, in this instance, also convincingly extended province to the North of his house with estates of squat clay colored bungalows built merrily in a residential style radiating forth from the perimeter of the region’s indigenous penitentiary.

Cast in an affectation of parochial benignity with gentle bay windows and softened cornices, these estates appeared, in their distinction, to retain the peculiar propensity to absorb noise within their proximity, an ability which served to lend them an ominous potential that quite belied the genial impression proposed by their bearing

He could, through association with such observations, also remember clearly, that the vertex of a testing tower devoted to the tutelage of firemen was plainly visible through the trees that then grew behind his house, an establishment which in being equipped with holding cells to detain those implicated in affairs of an infernal persuasion served, in it’s fashion, to preserve the general aspect of decorum that subtly bled through every pore of the area’s character.

Tom’s first memories of childhood were, in this sense, devoted to an assortment of fragmentary observations regarding the peculiar decoration of what was then domestic taste, a collage of orange cushions and purple curtains woven respectively from corduroy and velvet, a high cut that, throughout the halcyon era of ecclesiastical intervention in marital affairs, was traditionally draped from the eves of high arched maternity wards to exclude drafts.

Perhaps for the sake of contradiction in this instance, his memory of such matters further extended to encompass the phalanxes of cast iron railings that then found occasion to pike the boundaries…


Some months ago I fell into conversation with a friend about paranormal phenomena, a discussion, that, in being fueled by the intrigue to which confidences upon such matters may quite incidentally ascribe, managed to achieve a manner of momentum generally spared for issues of a far more pressing significance than would ordinarily be devoted to idle fancy…

As I recall the exchange began with an observation made by my friend pertaining to the detail of television documentary that he had found occasion to watch late one Tuesday evening after having set time aside in the interim between work and nocturnal dormancy to which one grows accustomed as one negotiates the obligatory schematic of working life…

“Did you know…” he began glancing up at me with an expression of mischievous apprehension that appeared for some inexplicable reason to illuminate his features with jaundice, “Did you know, that, in America, a number of municipal office building are, beneath certain atmospheric conditions, believed capable of both recording and transmitting radio broadcasts through nothing more than the latent file of their own architecture”.

The question momentarily caught me off guard, forcing me to diverge from the stock pile of pleasantries that I was in the habit of reserving for usage when engaged in token discourse. …


Canterbury Cathedral

Having spent almost a decade poring over the many chapters devoted to the subject of English history presently available on the Internet, a resource which, as with all work of a chronological persuasion, is inclined to defer the greater part of it’s issue in pursuit of information which pertains to occurrences of grave significance, I was left largely confused as to the general scheme of the events witnessed upon the British isles throughout the first millennium, a period that, in being less extensively documented than perhaps any other era since records began, seemed, in a markedly partial sense, to elusively feint back and forth through abstract motes, leaving much of what would be considered to constitute it’s realm of incident to the imagination…

Tracing a laborious path through the stockpile of legends and stories which are fated to accumulate at the periphery of what would ordinarily be considered historical fact in efforts to appreciate something of my subject matter’s flavor, I gradually managed, despite a fretwork of glaring omissions, to devise a scaffold upon which to rest many of the presumptions that conventionally flesh the finer part of academic research, a skeleton which, in preserving the essence of that which I had chosen to investigate, would theoretically, support my sphere of interest through to it’s conclusion…

Including examples of early Greek literature, an account of the Trojan war and an interpretation of the New Testament, alongside a number of Celtic legends extracted from both Irish and Welsh mythology within it’s compass, my study, although cursory, succeeded in extending province with a degree of conviction through to the expansion of York beneath the aegis of the Holy Roman Empire during the eighth century A.D., a vantage from which I discovered that, despite concerted efforts to be comprehensive, I had yet omitted almost three hundred years of intermediary history from my review…

Unsure as to how I should…


The Black Goddess Kali

Having lived among the Indian community of South West London for the last twenty five years and, finding it’s people to be both amicable and well tempered, frequently found occasion to partake in the many annual festivals that circumstance the Asian calendar, visiting local parks to celebrate the firework displays of “Diwali”, attending “Bhangra” concerts staged through association with formal events and sampling the wide variety of exotically spiced delicacies which are prepared by the many food emporiums that festoon much of the capital’s suburban scheme, I have, in some small part, become acquainted with the cultural lexicon to which Indians have, throughout history, traditionally circumscribed, an iconography that, in being distinguished by the pantheon of many armed divinities which were once rumored to have occupied the Indus valley during the intermediary years of the first millennium, yet preserves a novel apparel that may, to all intents and purposes, be found nowhere else on earth…

Having become familiar with the horde of attributes which the multi appendaged Goddesses of the Indus valley avowed throughout this time, an instance in which the images of such divinities found occasion to appear quite incidentally before my attention through association with the purchase of incense, cigarette papers and other smoking related products, I was naturally delighted to learn that Bloomsbury’s British Museum was in the process of staging a major exhibition devoted to the study of the religion which had once proved to be their origin, an holistic faith that, for over half a millennium was perceived to have represented an indigenous way of life for many thousands of people…

Contacting a friend to confirm the details of the event, a correspondence through which, after some minutes of discussion upon matters of an auspicious persuasion, it was ultimately agreed that we should meet at the establishment’s cafeteria before the show commenced, I duly collected myself and made forth across town aboard a Network South East train, in the hope of attending the venue…

Making swift headway across town after having deferred much of the inter-mediation that is inclined to circumstance cosmopolitan transit aboard the Piccadilly line as a result of my decision to use Network South East, a route which…

Thomas Scrow

A Victorian man trapped in the twenty first century

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