St Peter upon Cornhill, City of London
Last autumn, we felt confident enough to start arranging things in the new year. One of these was a show by Chinese acrobats that Jools wanted to see. She got Jen, Sylv and a friend to go. And yesterday was the day of the show. I made it clear it wasn't for me, but I would go up to rephotograph some City churches and we would meet up afterwards for a meal before coming home.
When we arrange things, we don't know what slings and arrows fate might throw at us. In Tuesday's case, it was a Tube drivers strike, and no last minute talks fixed that. I could arrange my trip to avoind using public transport other than the train up and back home, which were unaffected. Jools thought they would be OK, as their tickets were for the Odeon, which she thought was in Leicester Square, but it turned out was the old Hammersmith Apollo. Now, usually this would not have been a problem, but on Tuesday it was.
They arranged to leave an hour earlier than planned and try to get a taxi, which they did after waiting in line for an hour, getting to the theatre just half an hour before showtime, leaving them only time to get a snack.
Their journey up was done outside rush hour, the show ened at five, and they had to get back to St Pancras. Which would prove to be an adventure.
For me, however, it was a walk in the park. And to add to the pleasure of the day, I would meet up with my good friend, Simon, owner of the Churches of East Anglia website, just about every word and picture done by his own hand. His website also covers the City of LOndon churches, so I asked if he wanted to meet up; he did, so a plan was hatched to meet and visit a few churches, one of which, King Edmund, he had not been inside. He wouldn't arrive until jsut after ten to get the offpeak ticket prices, I would get up early as a couple of the churches would be open before nine.
A plan was made, and I had a list of chuches and a rough order in which to visit them.
The alarm went off at five, and we were both up. I having a coffee after getting dressed and Jools was to drop me off at the station, and as we drove in the heavy fog that had settled, I realised there was a direct train to Cannon Street just after seven, could I make it to avoid a half hour layover at Ashford?
Yes I could.
Jools dropped me off outside Priory station, I went in and got my ticket, and was on the train settled into a forward facing seat with three whole minutes to spare.
The train rattled it's way out of the station and through the tunnel under Western Heights, outside it was still dark. So I put my mask on and rested my eyes as we went through Folkestone to Ashford, an towards Pluckley, Headcorn, Marden to Tonbridge, Sevenoaks and so onto south east London. The train filled up slowly, until we got to Tonbridge which left few seats remaining, and at Sevenoaks, it was standing room only, but by then its a twenty minute run to London Bridge.
After leaving London Bridge station, the train took the sharp turn above Borough Market and over the river into Cannon Street. I was in no hurry, so enoyed the peace and space of an empty carriage before making my way off the train then along the platform and out onto the street in front. A heavy drizzle was falling, so I decided to get some breakfast and another coffee. Just up Walbrook there was an independent sandwich place, so I went in and asked what I wanted: faced with dozens of choices, all made to order, I had no idea.
I decided on a simple sausage sandwich and a coffee and watched people hurrying to work outside. I had all the time I wanted.
I check my phone and find that opening times were a little different, but St Mary Aldermary was open from half eight, so I check the directions and head there.
It was open, mainly because there is a small cafe inside. I ask if I could go in, they say yes, so I snap it well with the 50mm lens fitted, and decide that something sweet was called for. They recommended the carrot cake, so I had a slice of that and a pot of breakfast tea sitting and admiring the details of the church. Once I had finished, I put on the wide angle lens and finished the job.
Just up the lane outside was St Mary-le-Bow, which should also be open.
It was. Also because they had a cafe. I skipped another brew, and photographed that too, and saw that the crypt was open too, so went down the steps to that. Simon tells me that the church got it's name because of the brick arched crypt: bowed roof.
A five minute walk past The Bank of England was St Mary Woolnorth and St Mary Abchurch: both open, and both recorded by my camera and keen eye.
It was now near to ten, so I texted Simon to let him know to meet me at St Edmund, and I set off in the wrong direction. I only realised this when I was the other side of The Bank, so checked my map and retraced my steps and went down Lombard Street.
The rain was still falling gently, and I was damp, so found shelter under a balcony, as the church was not unlocked. The smell of tale piss rose from the pavement, it wasn't pleasant.
Simon arrived, we shook hands and reviewed the plans, and with it being nearly half ten, thought we would give Stephen Walbrook another go. And wonder of wonders, it was open! The church has been reordered, which isn't to everyone's taste, but the doughnut in the centre can be removed if needed, and Wren's church is still there, including the wonderful painted ceiling.
We went to Cornhill, as Somon had never visited St Peer there, or rather never found it open. I had a feeling that Friends of the City Churches were watching it on Tuesday, so should be open. And it was, although a workshop was going on, we went round not getting in anyone's way getting shots, and then chatting with the watcher, who didn't quite match Simon's knowledge, but the watcher had his book for reference.
-------------------------------------------
An early foundation, probably a Saxon church set in the former forum of the Roman Londinium. The medieval church was larger than today's, an important church with charitable foundations including a library and a school by the 15th Century. As Wayland Young observes, chantries were many and rich. All were dispersed at the Reformation. The church was destroyed in the Great Fire, and rebuilt by Wren in the early 1680s. This is a church worth viewing from different aspects. From Cornhill it is a reminder of what many City churches were once like, with buildings crowding all around and shopfronts flanking the porch. Everybody loves the devil perched on an adjacent gable. The story goes that the owner was forced to pull down an earlier building because he had unwittingly encroached on church land. From Gracechurch Street the tower and spire can be seen, while from the south the aspect is much more intimate across a small garden.
As with its near neighbour St Michael Cornhill, a surprising amount of the 19th Century restoration survives here thanks to these tightly-packed buildings at the east end of Cornhill surviving the Blitz. However, the nave glass by Hugh Easton and the AK Nicholson studio is all 20th Century and variable according to taste. Most moving is a small memorial to seven children killed in a house fire in 1782. It remembers James, Mary, Charles, Harriet, George, John, Elizabeth, the whole offspring of James and Mary Woodmason, in the same awful moment on the 18 Jan 1782 translated by sudden and irresistible flames in the late mansion of their sorrowing parents from the sleep of innocence to eternal bliss. Their remains collected from the ruins are here combined. A sympathysing friend of the bereaved parents, their comanion through the night of 18 of Jan in a scene of distress beyond the powers of language, perhaps of imagination, devotes this spontaneous tribute of the feeling's of his mind to the memory of innocence. JHC. The children appear as a range of cherubs above the inscription.
Simon Knott, March 2022
St Peter upon Cornhill, City of London
Last autumn, we felt confident enough to start arranging things in the new year. One of these was a show by Chinese acrobats that Jools wanted to see. She got Jen, Sylv and a friend to go. And yesterday was the day of the show. I made it clear it wasn't for me, but I would go up to rephotograph some City churches and we would meet up afterwards for a meal before coming home.
When we arrange things, we don't know what slings and arrows fate might throw at us. In Tuesday's case, it was a Tube drivers strike, and no last minute talks fixed that. I could arrange my trip to avoind using public transport other than the train up and back home, which were unaffected. Jools thought they would be OK, as their tickets were for the Odeon, which she thought was in Leicester Square, but it turned out was the old Hammersmith Apollo. Now, usually this would not have been a problem, but on Tuesday it was.
They arranged to leave an hour earlier than planned and try to get a taxi, which they did after waiting in line for an hour, getting to the theatre just half an hour before showtime, leaving them only time to get a snack.
Their journey up was done outside rush hour, the show ened at five, and they had to get back to St Pancras. Which would prove to be an adventure.
For me, however, it was a walk in the park. And to add to the pleasure of the day, I would meet up with my good friend, Simon, owner of the Churches of East Anglia website, just about every word and picture done by his own hand. His website also covers the City of LOndon churches, so I asked if he wanted to meet up; he did, so a plan was hatched to meet and visit a few churches, one of which, King Edmund, he had not been inside. He wouldn't arrive until jsut after ten to get the offpeak ticket prices, I would get up early as a couple of the churches would be open before nine.
A plan was made, and I had a list of chuches and a rough order in which to visit them.
The alarm went off at five, and we were both up. I having a coffee after getting dressed and Jools was to drop me off at the station, and as we drove in the heavy fog that had settled, I realised there was a direct train to Cannon Street just after seven, could I make it to avoid a half hour layover at Ashford?
Yes I could.
Jools dropped me off outside Priory station, I went in and got my ticket, and was on the train settled into a forward facing seat with three whole minutes to spare.
The train rattled it's way out of the station and through the tunnel under Western Heights, outside it was still dark. So I put my mask on and rested my eyes as we went through Folkestone to Ashford, an towards Pluckley, Headcorn, Marden to Tonbridge, Sevenoaks and so onto south east London. The train filled up slowly, until we got to Tonbridge which left few seats remaining, and at Sevenoaks, it was standing room only, but by then its a twenty minute run to London Bridge.
After leaving London Bridge station, the train took the sharp turn above Borough Market and over the river into Cannon Street. I was in no hurry, so enoyed the peace and space of an empty carriage before making my way off the train then along the platform and out onto the street in front. A heavy drizzle was falling, so I decided to get some breakfast and another coffee. Just up Walbrook there was an independent sandwich place, so I went in and asked what I wanted: faced with dozens of choices, all made to order, I had no idea.
I decided on a simple sausage sandwich and a coffee and watched people hurrying to work outside. I had all the time I wanted.
I check my phone and find that opening times were a little different, but St Mary Aldermary was open from half eight, so I check the directions and head there.
It was open, mainly because there is a small cafe inside. I ask if I could go in, they say yes, so I snap it well with the 50mm lens fitted, and decide that something sweet was called for. They recommended the carrot cake, so I had a slice of that and a pot of breakfast tea sitting and admiring the details of the church. Once I had finished, I put on the wide angle lens and finished the job.
Just up the lane outside was St Mary-le-Bow, which should also be open.
It was. Also because they had a cafe. I skipped another brew, and photographed that too, and saw that the crypt was open too, so went down the steps to that. Simon tells me that the church got it's name because of the brick arched crypt: bowed roof.
A five minute walk past The Bank of England was St Mary Woolnorth and St Mary Abchurch: both open, and both recorded by my camera and keen eye.
It was now near to ten, so I texted Simon to let him know to meet me at St Edmund, and I set off in the wrong direction. I only realised this when I was the other side of The Bank, so checked my map and retraced my steps and went down Lombard Street.
The rain was still falling gently, and I was damp, so found shelter under a balcony, as the church was not unlocked. The smell of tale piss rose from the pavement, it wasn't pleasant.
Simon arrived, we shook hands and reviewed the plans, and with it being nearly half ten, thought we would give Stephen Walbrook another go. And wonder of wonders, it was open! The church has been reordered, which isn't to everyone's taste, but the doughnut in the centre can be removed if needed, and Wren's church is still there, including the wonderful painted ceiling.
We went to Cornhill, as Somon had never visited St Peer there, or rather never found it open. I had a feeling that Friends of the City Churches were watching it on Tuesday, so should be open. And it was, although a workshop was going on, we went round not getting in anyone's way getting shots, and then chatting with the watcher, who didn't quite match Simon's knowledge, but the watcher had his book for reference.
-------------------------------------------
An early foundation, probably a Saxon church set in the former forum of the Roman Londinium. The medieval church was larger than today's, an important church with charitable foundations including a library and a school by the 15th Century. As Wayland Young observes, chantries were many and rich. All were dispersed at the Reformation. The church was destroyed in the Great Fire, and rebuilt by Wren in the early 1680s. This is a church worth viewing from different aspects. From Cornhill it is a reminder of what many City churches were once like, with buildings crowding all around and shopfronts flanking the porch. Everybody loves the devil perched on an adjacent gable. The story goes that the owner was forced to pull down an earlier building because he had unwittingly encroached on church land. From Gracechurch Street the tower and spire can be seen, while from the south the aspect is much more intimate across a small garden.
As with its near neighbour St Michael Cornhill, a surprising amount of the 19th Century restoration survives here thanks to these tightly-packed buildings at the east end of Cornhill surviving the Blitz. However, the nave glass by Hugh Easton and the AK Nicholson studio is all 20th Century and variable according to taste. Most moving is a small memorial to seven children killed in a house fire in 1782. It remembers James, Mary, Charles, Harriet, George, John, Elizabeth, the whole offspring of James and Mary Woodmason, in the same awful moment on the 18 Jan 1782 translated by sudden and irresistible flames in the late mansion of their sorrowing parents from the sleep of innocence to eternal bliss. Their remains collected from the ruins are here combined. A sympathysing friend of the bereaved parents, their comanion through the night of 18 of Jan in a scene of distress beyond the powers of language, perhaps of imagination, devotes this spontaneous tribute of the feeling's of his mind to the memory of innocence. JHC. The children appear as a range of cherubs above the inscription.
Simon Knott, March 2022