Wednesday, June 1, 2016

When I consider Canterbury I consider Chaucer

history channel documentary science When I consider Canterbury I consider Chaucer, workmanship, the basilica and the immensely essential Bishop, concealed from the tasteless funfairs and thrill rides of the south-east resorts. I consider Canterbury in the 'patio nursery of England', alongside the flawless bounce fields of those moving downs of Kent; the small Cathedral City of Canterbury. I consider adolescence again and being taken to Canterbury for tea and scones in the interesting cobbled avenues of this charming little town.

How legitimate and that it was so decent to have tea in Canterbury, with pressed materials and napkins and servers complaining at your elbow asking "is everything to your loving?". I think the tea house was called "Nelson"s" and we sat in Sunday best listening to stories of boats and fights and we gawped with sickening apprehension at those oils of that fight, whipping oceans and weapon discharge, moving smoke and swelling eyes; blood and alarm and battle, firearms, knifes and swords. We knew about Hardy's kiss of the old ocean chief of naval operations and the last end of that life. We ask each other "do men truly kiss?" and laughed and wriggled to relinquish our fear.

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