I don't have much time to write this, but that will be true, I think, so long as interesting and important things are happening. If you aren't careful, interesting and important things happen all the time. You have to make the time to write them down, right?
Truth is, I have ample time to write, but not ample internet time. (Silly Heathrow.) I am laying over, without much laying, in London's Heathrow Airport, and like the supreme chicken of the universe, I did not go out into the city like I had planned. Manchester left me a bit knackered, and also lonely. But not sad. Very excited, really, to land in Warsaw, sleep in a bed, and be some where, for real.
Layovers always feel a bit like lost time.
Took the train from Manchester Airport to Manchester Piccadilly, their train station, which is very big. It's a big deal kind of station, like Termini but without the cats and the weird smells. It was such a big deal, actually, that coming off my train I walked RIGHT past a BBC actor whom I do, in fact, love.
I didn't say hi. He was carrying balloons. Balloons are the most efficient entourage ever. But it was AWESOME.
First stop was the Hidden Gem, St. Mary's Church. It's called the Hidden Gem because it's tucked away on a side street. In fact, I got quite a bit turned around trying to find it. I kept crossing Kings Street, and Cross Street, for that matter, and gosh darnit if I don't know St. Albert's Square like the back of my hand. But when I did find, it was just... there. Tucked away, jewel like in its plainness and its mystery. I think it's also appropriately called the Hidden Gem because photographs are not allowed inside. It is beautiful.
Before Mass began the sacristan carried a large arrangement of yellow flowers (and what looked alarmingly like green carnations--- unholy decadence, Chesterton!) to the simple, marble altar that wasn't much bigger than a card table. It stands before a beautiful Gothic altarpiece, decked out with angels and spires. He placed the flowers before the altar, stepped down to examine, then adjusted them, barely a quarter of an inch. He did that eight times that I counted. Kneel, adjust, stand up, step down, examine, kneel, adjust.
It seemed a little stuffy to be so particular about flowers in the wake of that beautiful altar, but that is a trap I fall into. What are little details in the wake of infinite majesty? But the details are the majesty. The details are the careful laying of stones, carving of marble, arrangement of flowers. In the forest of Divine Mystery, I tend to take the trees for granted.
After Mass I got lost, cold, and wet, so I went back to the airport and waited the five and a half hours for my flight at the bar. I think I alarmed the barkeep a little, completely oblivious to the World Cup and a little too keen on the concept of pints.
Yes, Merry. It comes in pints. And it's glorious.
What I need now is a strong tea and a good nap. Then straight on til Warsaw!
