Thursday 23 April 2020

AFTER THE TRIDUUM

Triduum

As it turned out, the Triduum went pretty well in my dining room. We didn't do anything that involved movement, other than carrying the paschal candle from one side of the altar to the other, and bringing forward the crucifix, which really could not be avoided. On Maundy Thursday there was obviously no footwashing (it's optional anyway) but nor did we receive the newly consecrated oils, because we had no newly-consecrated oils, as bishops hadn't consecrated them. Nor did we have a procession of the Sacrament at the end, as we do not have an aumbry in the dining room (or permission from the Bishop to reserve the Sacrament in the vicarage). Nor did we strip the altar (which is deprecated in the modern rite, anyway) as the effect would be very limited at that camera angle. On Good Friday I did not prostrate myself before the altar; the effect would have been very comical, but there wasn't enough room anyway.  Obviously only I venerated the cross (though since Fiona is the congregation I cannot think that any new cross-contamination would have occurred that hasn't occurred already, but such are the rules). We did not receive Communion, as we could not reserve the Sacrament there overnight. Instead I preached, which I would not normally do. Then on Holy Saturday we did the Vigil in the traditional way, but simply kindling the new fire, not making a bonfire, and not actually going anywhere. I at least got to sit down for the readings, which was a mercy. Poor Fiona had to listen to me singing the Exsultet, which was a final penitential observance for her before the Easter joy. In fact I sang quite a bit on Saturday night, most of it not quite as badly as that. Lesley had picked some dwarf daffodils from her garden which we used to decorate the altar, having picked them up from her doorstep (I was passing, it wasn't a special journey).

The dark red walls of the dining room worked quite well for Passiontide, but I had to make some sort of  change for Easter, so we brought back from the sacristy the painting of Mary Magdalene meeting the risen Lord outside the tomb. This fits neatly into the space between the bookcases in the dining room, and is a good size for visibility. My friend John painted this as a gift for the church a few years ago, after we had let him have an exhibition of his pictures in the Undercroft, and it is a re-imagining of Rembrandt's painting of the subject (which is in the royal collection) but rather in the style of Van Gogh, who John much admires. In the background, the view of the skyline of Jerusalem includes the profile of St Mary Magdalene's, which is nice.


Blessed are the Cheesemakers

We seem to get lots of fancy cheese in the Felix Project deliveries at the moment, so I have just turned cheesemonger, and cut up a six-pound semi-hard cheese into family-size portions. This was a Witheridge cheese, very fine. Soft cheeses are more difficult to parcel out, and you have to look for big families, or people who just like cheese a lot. The cheese packed for supermarkets usually comes to us at the end of its life, but sometimes the whole cheeses for catering have more life in them, which is a real joy for some of our people. We had a couple of officials from Kensington and Chelsea Council visit us today, as we are feeding people from their territory, so Jacqui was negotiating to get the use of a building in Ladbroke Grove, so that we can distribute food from there as well, to prevent their people coming over here, because at the moment we seem almost to be attracting custom, which is not the idea at all.


On the Road

I was shouted at on my bike the other day, as I didn't stop at a zebra crossing, but what had happened was that I had made eye contact with the person who was actually going to cross, and so we understood what we were doing and both proceeded perfectly safely.  The observer at the roadside just saw me failing to stop and so shouted self-righteously. Never mind. I was hooted by a van when I was passing a group of cyclists (a family, I have to assume) presumably because he thought I was part of a big group, or possibly just because I had to go quite wide to get round them. No problem. Why exactly was he on the road? I was getting my exercise.

The Harrow Road is not a lot less busy than normal, with long queues outside Co-Op and Iceland, not terribly well distanced, and making the pavement rather congested. Most of the shops seem to be open. Some of the usual drunks are still around. People are parked just as randomly as ever.

The drugs industry seems to be continuing to operate, as the couriers on their mopeds continue to come and go. One had taken to parking his moped on my forecourt, so I have started to close the gates; We are content to allow parking for Grand Junction, and occasionally let other residents park, but I'm not inclined to support this particular enterprise.    

One of the more curious parked vehicles is outside Lord's Cricket Ground, on a loading bay. This is a medium-sized dark green horsebox, which has been there for three weeks or so. I observed a couple of parking wardens on St John's Wood Road today, so perhaps they may have booked it.


St George's Day

Happy St George's Day, especially to all Syrians and Palestinians, whose patron he is too. We use a prayer calendar provided by USPG (Anglican mission agency) and find that it marks extraordinarily obscure secular observances. We had Earth Day, and a day for people with autism, and any number of observances to do with slavery, but we find that St George's Day is not marked. Curious. Anyway, we commemorated him at Mass today, and I shall be ringing the bell this evening and will think of the soldier-martyr as I do.

Wednesday 8 April 2020

PASCHAL FULL MOON

We'll Meet Again

As Her Majesty said on Sunday, we will meet again. Her generation display remarkable stoicism, as witness my hundred-year-old aunt. We received our first delivery of mail for a fortnight yesterday, and on top of the pile was an Easter card from Aunt June. I suspect that this may be the only one we shall receive, from the only centenarian I know. Extraordinary that she is sufficiently organised to have bought Easter cards and sent them to her dozy nephews. She included a note apologising for not having had us over for lunch, but she had had a couple of problems, "AND NOW THIS!" So, hats off to Aunt June, and her generation.


Chapeau

And hats off as well to the caterers ("chapeau" is what bike racers say). I had worried that our efforts to feed people would be starved of supplies, but I was wrong. Last week the Felix Project asked if we could take more than usual, and when the delivery arrived it was full  of useful stuff, like ready meals and roasting chickens. Much of this came from the restaurant empire of Richard Caring, so our clients were eating The Ivy's famous shepherd's pie (complete with beautifully-piped potato on top), and chili from Sexy Fish (in Berkeley Square) and pea and watercress soup from Bill's. The chickens, and kale and asparagus, were not branded, but I suspect they had come from Caring's suppliers, as they seemed very good quality. There was also a mountain of little chocolate things from "Deliciously Ella". I see that Richard Caring has a charitable foundation, and clearly he is keeping some of his catering staff busy with producing these excellent ready meals for charitable purposes in this crisis, which seems to me to be a brilliant example for people to follow. I notice that Urban Caprice, the outside catering arm of Le Caprice, are working in their kitchen (just round the corner) again, so I imagine they are part of the effort, because they too are part of his empire. So, credit where it's due. It is very pleasing to think of some of our vulnerable, troubled, and damaged denizens of the Harrow Road dining on The Ivy shepherd's pie.


No More Rebellion

I have bowed the knee. We have been specifically instructed by the Bishop of London not to stream from church, as apparently some people have interpreted that as encouraging people to want to be in church, and to travel in spite of regulations. It is said that some people are using the streaming of services as an argument that churches should be reopened. We are accused of cynically ignoring the archbishops' guidelines or of pushing their boundaries, which doesn't seem entirely fair. I don't think anyone is acting cynically in this, but I do think the leadership of the Church of England have a very inflated idea of how much notice everybody else pays to what we do. So, I am currently trying to make my dining room look as churchy as possible (which does involve moving a lot of bottles). Ironically, while the conservation works were going on in church, and the whole building was technically a building site, most of the more fragile contents of the building migrated to my house, and most of them were in the dining room, but it didn't look like a church, more like an antique shop. So yesterday's Mass came from the Vicarage, and I am now working out how to do the Triduum Sacrum without moving from one spot so as to remain in camera shot.


Resurrection

When we came across from church with arms full of the necessities for the service yesterday teatime we were astonished to find a parakeet lying on its back in our drive. The more astonished since we had only been in church for about three minutes, and it hadn't been there when we set out. It looked dead, but we noticed its little chest was heaving, so we assumed it was mortally injured. "Poor thing," we both said, and left it. It made no reaction to our presence. I did another journey back and forth, with vestments, and though it was still alive, I thought its chest was moving more weakly, and its eyes were shut. About ten minutes later, Fiona came with me to get a last load of stuff, and as she came out of the front door the parakeet suddenly rolled over and flew away.

This was immensely cheering, because it was horrible to see a beautiful creature apparently dying outside your own front door, but it was also utterly mystifying. I think it had probably flown into our bathroom window, fooled by reflections, and been stunned, though how it came to fall where it did, in the middle of the drive, rather than on the flat roof under the window, I can't fathom. The added strangeness is that we hardly ever see parakeets on the Green, despite their being very common in the Park and elsewhere locally. If it had remained (apparently unconscious) on the drive much longer it would surely have been found either by the crows who have taken up residence on the Green, or by Bad Cat (Casimir's enemy) and I wouldn't have fancied its chances, but perhaps our comings and goings kept other things away, so it had time to recover, which it emphatically did. After that it seemed right to go out and admire the Paschal full moon later on.