Boothby Chapel, St. Oswald's, Ashbourne, Derbyshire.
In glorious VR.
Each Friday I post out a digest recording my discoveries in my time-travelling camper van. Subscribe for free.
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In glorious VR.
This is why places like Catherine Hill matter - not because they contain answers, but because they hold a way of arriving at them that seems to accommodate the flaws of the present.
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I lost my dad in 2008 and I think that’s when it all started - I took his spirit out with me on my first forays into deep time; sharing with him my findings - as if he was taking part in an evolving life, a new man emerging from the chrysalis of breakdown and depression.
The service is coming to an end. I can tell by the rhythm and the tone of the minister’s voice rather than the words. I look at the strangers sat around me and ask myself, ‘where do I fit in with all of this?’
Holiness is in the the earth-song of the peeling paint and the arborescent echo from the fissured faces, and sanctity is in the rhythm of the truss, the pattern in the bracing and the un-mappable outpourings of human endeavour held within these walls.
Creating a membership scheme is probably the hardest thing I've ever done..
So here, in one place, we find layers of meaning and layers of firsts: movement, industry, politics, science, architecture and belief, all tied, in some way, to this ground. There’s no city like this - every layer of soil put down here is the first in the journey towards the modern world.
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