On the way back from a fascinating afternoon and early evening of Steve Reich's music at the Royal Festival Hall — "Music for 18 Musicians" in particular was done just fantastically well.

Remembering my great uncle Maurice

The original article that Fr Michael Rear and I wrote for The Catholic Herald is sadly no longer available online, but I summarised my own view of the evidence here: drfrancisyoung.com/2019/07/2…

Today is the feast of Our Lady of Walsingham. Here's a photo (taken in winter) of the remains of her Priory, with the (Anglican) shrine church visible in the background — but also, a photo of a wooden statue kept at the @V_and_A and known as the Langham Madonna which, on the basis of research by Fr Michael Rear and Dr Francis Young, I honestly believe may well have been the image of Our Lady traditionally venerated at Walsingham.

This was the view from the churchyard of St Nicholas, Blakeney earlier this morning

Five hundred years ago, this view would have looked out towards one of the various approaches to the Carmelite Friary at Blakeney

The first talk of the new BAHS season will be by Mark Glaister, about the ever-fascinating Langham Dome. Our meetings are held on the last Tuesday of the month at Cley Village Hall, starting at 7.30 pm. £6 for non members, £3 for members. Hope to see you there!

This is shaping up to be one of those days — several hens with medical issues, a set-back on the Crowland renovation front, other minor frustrations galore. None of it, obviously, is the end of the world — hens are mortal, just as we all are, our renovation team is first-class and the other problems doubtless have solutions. Here, anyway, is one of our more successful rescue hens, Edith, enjoying the sunshine yesterday evening — I could learn from her willingness to look for delight in virtually anything!

It's one of those September evenings here that's simultaneously extremely beautiful and also just a little bit sad, with a strong sense of something slipping away just at the corner of our vision, not to be seen again for so many months

Here, have a grumpy sea bird from Blakeney Quay this afternoon

It's been a rather grey Saturday evening here, so I particularly appreciate David Austin's "Bring Me Sunshine", still adding cheer in mid September

Following on from my post earlier, here's a really good question about how the display of the Bayeux Tapestry works for wheelchair users. Any thoughts / personal experience?

Yesterday I went to see the Bayeux Tapestry. Here are some reflections: - The tapestry is extraordinary, unlike anything I’ve seen before, and unforgettable. Although I spend a lot of time reading about Anglo-Saxons and Anglo-Normans, so was more than familiar with all the images, nothing prepared me for entering into the presence of this age-old, in many ways mysterious, borderline numinous thing. - For reasons I can’t adequately explain, my first glimpse of the tapestry was an intensely emotional experience. Looking around at my fellow visitors, I was clearly not alone in this. - There has been much discourse about “the queue”. I can only speak for myself, but when we arrived for a 10.30 am viewing, there was virtually no queue going into the exhibition. - Once inside the exhibition, yes, there was about 25 minutes of standing about before we were in front of the tapestry. But this was very well handled. Passing through a long, darkened corridor, the time was spent reading beautifully-presented introductory material, looking at a few well-chosen objects - and also (sorry, but this is important for someone with cataracts) becoming accustomed to the (understandably) low-light conditions. - While “the queue” exists for self-evidently practical reasons, the darkness, the (calming, solemn, slightly wistful) music and building sense of anticipation also had the effect of shutting out the outside world, slowing us down, and preparing us for the ultimate revelation of the tapestry. No one had their phones out. Increasingly, our worlds narrowed to what was immediately ahead of us. For me, anyway, the experience would have been less powerful without it. - Yes, I know that for many years the tapestry could be visited in Bayeux with much less fuss. But not everyone travels. Warmest thanks to the French government for this very kind loan. - Were we hurried along in front of the tapestry rather more quickly than I might have liked? Inevitably so. I could have spent hours there. Plenty of people want to see the tapestry, though, and that’s wonderful - we should all spend more time thinking about Anglo-Normans! - so I’m not going to complain about this. - The tapestry itself is indescribably fascinating. My companion didn’t know the tapestry or its context, but was still drawn into the story, the force of the narrative, the sheer skill of presentation - he wanted to see what would happen next. The details are compulsively engaging. The battle scenes are genuinely horrific. The tapestry still “works”. - It is also very beautiful - all the more so for the little tears, mends and missing bits. The coincidence of enormous age with irrepressible vitality is intoxicating. - Seeing the tapestry at full length has the effect of allowing the narrative its natural momentum. Even very good photographs (as in the very admirable exhibition catalogue) cannot do this. Seeing the tapestry in real life is very different from all the alternatives. - Finally, the @britishmuseum is to be praised for the tone of the exhibition. They could, I suppose, have gone with a much more jolly, popular, dumbed-down treatment. Instead - rather unusually at the moment - the approach is one that fosters genuine, non-ironic awe in the face of this unique, peerless object. Indeed, the whole process of standing in the queue, of quiet waiting, culminating in a brief encounter with something ancient yet powerful was extremely reminiscent of an act of (secular) pilgrimage. For whatever reason, people are drawn to this in vast numbers. (Other institutions, custodians of old yet powerful things and places, might wish to take note.)

The light here is rather splendid this morning

Because I have a particular attachment to St Thomas of Canterbury, one very niche thing that fascinates me about the Bayeux Tapestry is the possibility that Thomas encountered it himself. I think it's right that he visited Bayeux in the spring of 1157, when he was still chancellor to Henry II (cf Barlow, Duggan, Staunton etc), and it's well known that Thomas enjoyed "things" — books, jewels, ornaments etc — not least, when they had historical associations. If the tapestry was in Bayeux Cathedral at that point, he might have been interested enough in it to pause before it, admire it and try to puzzle out the meaning of its images. At the very least, it's a pleasing throught.

And while we are talking about JL Carr, here is the link to the Quince Tree Press, still going strong, and here are its County Maps of England — available for anyone to buy quincetreepress.co.uk/catego…

Preparatory reading for later this week. (The photos of the Bayeux Tapestry in the exhibition catalogue are the best I've ever seen, by the way — the texture of the stitches is vividly apparent, but so too are all the little rips, repairs and general defects "consistent with age and use", as the auction catalogues always say.)