Sunday, September 14, 2008
Singing on the Balcony
Sunday (if you can call such a dismal outlook a day of the Sun) and pretty much everything is closed.. After my recent investigations I am left with the feeling that there should have been more. I still have the problem of St. Marples’ being pulled down and Harold wanting nothing to do with the building. Where’s the gargoyle going to live if the building is torn down?*
The manor was stifling anyway -- Harold wanted to play Monopoly – so I headed out for a jaunt into Laverstone town. The market was deserted but for a group of politically right-wing town boys putting up posters for the forthcoming by-election** so I remained unaccosted as I hopped over the fencing into St Marples’ yard. Considering this is a prime location right in the middle of the town, I’m surprised someone hasn’t snapped it up. You could make a small fortune here with the right business. Not a church, obviously, as you couldn’t run a jumble sale on the proceeds from a Sunday collection. Something to interest the young, perhaps. They have all the disposable income these days.
I peeled back the boards and went inside. It smelled of must and urine and disuse, but as I made my way up the tower I stopped off at the choir’s balcony and was struck by the space. The acoustics were fantastic in the apse. A simple chorus from that most holy of holies*** sprang from my lips and echoed around the chamber. Utterly perfect pitch was reflected in a harmonious song of stone.
I resolved then and there that we had to stop it being torn down.
*Now if I was clever I’d make this gargoyle travel back in time to live on the roof of Laverstone manor, and be the one that is startled by that chap falling through the roof. Inspector White still hasn’t got back to me on that one.
**We call them Laver-Tories
*** The Sound of Music, naturally.