Church muddle

Last week, my thoughts turned to what I thought was a fine example of gothic revival somewhere in Kensington. I turned to Bing, as one does, and turned up what seemed to be a group of three churches in Kensington, all managed under the one website, which I can no longer find. Eventually, I resort to Edge history and track the three (actually four) churches down to the HTB organisation, to be found at reference 1. HTB for Holy Trinity Brompton, the Anglican church tucked behind the rather larger Catholic Oratory, but which manages the three other churches and which describes itself as the centre of the church planting movement, which seems to mean parachuting teams into splendid but decaying churches in an attempt to revive them. One of these plants is St. Augustine's in Queen's Gate and (I quote), 'unusually, given that HTB is a charismatic evangelical Anglican church, St Augustine's has kept its Sung Eucharist, vestments and incense. It stands within the Modern Catholic tradition of the Church of England'. All very complicated, but I shall return to this church later.

Started off well, finding an entire Daily Telegraph on the train for that very same day, my perusal of which was slightly marred by the loud and self-important conversation of a couple of young men a couple of seats away. Off at Clapham Junction, to pull a Bullingdon at Grant Road, the first time I have been there for a while, but where the eastern stand seemed to have got somewhat shorter. Made my way north to Kensington Church Street, which I learn this afternoon broke the 30 minute barrier, again the first time for a while. Most irritating.

On into the rather grand church of St. Mary Abbots, a presence and engagement parish (a designation which recognises the presence in the area of many infidels), which was built in 1872 under the supervision of Sir Gilbert Scott, on a site which has seen worship for 800 years or more, and being named in connection with the Abbey of St. Mary at Abingdon. A handsome church, not particularly ornate. Also famous for having hosted the marriage of Beatrix Potter, for the occasional appearance of David Cameron and his lady and the baptism of the children of Michael Jagger. Home most Friday lunchtimes to concerts given by the students of the nearby Royal College of Music. On this day there was to be a trio, but I had to give my excuses.

Pulled a second Bullingdon from the stand that I had not long left and pedalled off to South Kensington, discovering on the way that I did not know the area anything like as well as I had thought, and managed to get off at the wrong stop, as it were, Gloucester Road (North). At least there was no problem with the 30 minute barrier.

And so to lunch at the legendary Daquise, a place I had visited once or twice before - and today, rather to my surprise, I learn that the last time was probably the visit noticed at reference 3, in the margins of a visit to a rather different kind of church, a little over two years ago. For me, mixed pierogi. Then pork tenderloin with Silesian gnocchi with a yellow sauce, from which I associated to fish. It looked rather odd to me, and the gnocchi were nothing like their Italian cousins (from the Neapolitan Kitchen in Ewell), but it was all rather good just the same. Apple fritter, also rather good once I had removed the warfarin hating cranberry jam. A glass of house Chardonney. A glass of Armagnac. Altogether an excellent lunch. Good atmosphere and pleasantly busy, including some regular trade as well as tourists.

Next stop, the French colony at Bute Street to investigate the possibility of a new, bigger and probably expensive Littré dictionary, but it seems that the colony has collapsed and Bute Street is only a shadow of its former self. Nothing suitable in the dictionary line at all.

Next stop, the church of St. Augustine's with which I started this post. A quite extraordinary place, with some very unusual decorations, including stations of the cross and very florid, golden altar. Suggestions of their doing something for the homeless although I did not see any such on this occasion. But I must go back for a more serious visit.

Pulled the third and last Bullingdon from Queen's Gate and pedalled off back to Clapham Junction. I would not say that I got lost, but I did arrive on the north bank of the Thames unexpectedly. Luckily I chose the right bridge and I even managed the one way system leading from the south western corner of Battersea Park, to get me back to Clapham Junction without any trouble.

Into Battersea Food & Wine for my usual figs from Bodrum. Neither of the people there understood what I meant by figs, trying all sorts of possibilities until I found some dates and pointed at them while saying figs some more. Then one of the chaps remembered me and got very cheerful, explaining to me how I used to visit about once a year to buy these particular figs from Bodrum, in little shrink wrapped wooden boxes, forgetting that I also, occasionally, bought some of his fine flatbread and Turkish Delight (lots of varieties, quite cheap and which BH had been very happy with). Sadly, no figs from Bodrum and I had to settle for another variety, on which I shall report in due course.

Onto the platform to get a quick three at the aeroplane game before my train came in. The sky was good and I had managed, in the short time available, to find just the right spot to stand, towards the town end of the platform.

PS: I am not very keen on Michael Jagger at the best of times, but I thought even less of him for getting his children baptised, which struck me as hypocritical and wrong.

Reference 1: https://www.htb.org/.

Reference 2: http://daquise.co.uk/.

Reference 3: http://psmv2.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/kensington-1.html.

Group search key: tcb.