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Keiki and I had a day out together in Worcester this week.
[Photo of us at lunch. Me after I had my makeup done and then spent too much money on makeup, with Keiki looking worried that I’m going to drop him in my risotto.]
We started off with a tour of the high street, poking into various shops for long-overdue purchases of important items like new tights to replace all my raggedy old ones, and stamps for sending postcards.
[Fish Street, with graffiti and bicycles. No fish, though.]
[They like a good cupola in Worcester.]
After a coffee and a feed, we went to Worcester Cathedral. Keiki was, I think, glad to doff his cap for the occasion.
[Keiki with his baseball cap at a jaunty angle.]
I’d been to the cathedral previously, but never when it was so quiet. As I strolled around and Keiki fell asleep to the soothing tones of the High Communion sermon, we saw a harried-looking man set down a tea light and scrawl a short message in the book on the stand next to the candle-holders. We waited a short interval and then padded over to have a look.
“Another day without you but a day closer to you, Mum and Dad. I love you.” And then we had to work very hard not to burst into tears.
We descended the stairs into the cool silence of the crypt.
[Crypt pillars.]
We looked at the rotting boots of the Worcester Pilgrim, and admired the medieval stone tiles that had been unearthed in the corner opposite his grave.
[Painted tiles.]
We came back up and went to the courtyard and the Chapter House.
[The old cathedral bells.]
[Chapter House ceiling.]
[Courtyard garden and graveyard.]
The windows surrounding the courtyard have stained glass memorial plaques embedded in them.
[This one reads: “In memory of David Charles Lennard Sheppard M.C. Major Royal Artillery
Died of wounds in Italy
December 25, 1944”]
[And this one: “In memory of Lawrence Barnard Carlton R.A.M.C.
He gave his life for his comrades Aug 10 1915”]
Feeling melancholy, we went for lunch at the Ginger Pig on Copenhagen Street, which we recommend highly for delicious food, generous portions and friendly staff.
[Keiki and me, lunchtime.]
Our last stop before hopping on the train home was the Worcester City Art Gallery and Museum, a small but wide-ranging compendium of disparate displays that I didn’t get to investigate properly but which intrigued me enough to want to go back.
[Can’t claim to be a museum about Worcestershire if it doesn’t include the sauce.]
[Stuffed bat has its back to the visitors.]
[Probably because it figures weasel is a sufficient deterrent from prodding.]
[Photo of us at lunch. Me after I had my makeup done and then spent too much money on makeup, with Keiki looking worried that I’m going to drop him in my risotto.]
We started off with a tour of the high street, poking into various shops for long-overdue purchases of important items like new tights to replace all my raggedy old ones, and stamps for sending postcards.
[Fish Street, with graffiti and bicycles. No fish, though.]
[They like a good cupola in Worcester.]
After a coffee and a feed, we went to Worcester Cathedral. Keiki was, I think, glad to doff his cap for the occasion.
[Keiki with his baseball cap at a jaunty angle.]
I’d been to the cathedral previously, but never when it was so quiet. As I strolled around and Keiki fell asleep to the soothing tones of the High Communion sermon, we saw a harried-looking man set down a tea light and scrawl a short message in the book on the stand next to the candle-holders. We waited a short interval and then padded over to have a look.
“Another day without you but a day closer to you, Mum and Dad. I love you.” And then we had to work very hard not to burst into tears.
We descended the stairs into the cool silence of the crypt.
[Crypt pillars.]
We looked at the rotting boots of the Worcester Pilgrim, and admired the medieval stone tiles that had been unearthed in the corner opposite his grave.
[Painted tiles.]
We came back up and went to the courtyard and the Chapter House.
[The old cathedral bells.]
[Chapter House ceiling.]
[Courtyard garden and graveyard.]
The windows surrounding the courtyard have stained glass memorial plaques embedded in them.
[This one reads: “In memory of David Charles Lennard Sheppard M.C. Major Royal Artillery
Died of wounds in Italy
December 25, 1944”]
[And this one: “In memory of Lawrence Barnard Carlton R.A.M.C.
He gave his life for his comrades Aug 10 1915”]
Feeling melancholy, we went for lunch at the Ginger Pig on Copenhagen Street, which we recommend highly for delicious food, generous portions and friendly staff.
[Keiki and me, lunchtime.]
Our last stop before hopping on the train home was the Worcester City Art Gallery and Museum, a small but wide-ranging compendium of disparate displays that I didn’t get to investigate properly but which intrigued me enough to want to go back.
[Can’t claim to be a museum about Worcestershire if it doesn’t include the sauce.]
[Stuffed bat has its back to the visitors.]
[Probably because it figures weasel is a sufficient deterrent from prodding.]
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