A pleasant surprise

At lunchtime I like to walk. I walk away from the office and through the bustling streets of the City of London. I find my thoughts are clearer with the body in motion – physical movement adds impetus to the mental journey. Unlike a stationary quandary ponder, where you can find yourself repeatedly circling a topic and harassing it like a snarling hyena, on a hearty march the sense of purpose in one’s stride translates to development in your understanding of a situation, ultimately leading to decisions which spawn action to implement positive change in your life.

I also like to look at stuff. There are many beautiful buildings to enjoy and amusing situations to witness. Things like the rushing man tripping on his way out of a coffee shop and dousing himself with hot cappuccino. Or the burly construction worker flexing his charm on the preened executive who strides passed on spiked heels like a prize pony and acknowledges his gruff compliment with a smile and flick of her lustrous locks.

And churches. There are many old and beautiful churches tucked into corners of London that are often overlooked in our evermore-secular society. So many were destroyed in the Great Fire of London and lots that were rebuilt then perished during the hellish days of the Blitz. But a good few survived the onslaught of explosive death from above, or were restored once the war was over, and now they sit between office blocks and designer shops, still proud, but with dwindling congregations and struggling for funding, paint flaking from their vaulted ceilings. I don’t subscribe to one denomination of organised religion but I do enjoy the peace and tranquillity of a grand old House of God. To sit on an honest wooden pew and be still for just a few minutes is a rare pleasure in this life that moves at the speed of fibre optic broadband.

It was on one of my meandering postprandial strolls that I came across St. Sepulchre, also known as the Musicians’ Church, on Holborn Viaduct. I paused at the door for a moment before stepping inside for brief respite from the whirligig of life. And I am glad I did because I then experienced the most pleasant surprise. There was a performance of classical music taking place. I took one of the many empty seats among the sparse audience of elderly and fingerless glove wearing types and happily received the pleasure of a hauntingly beautiful violin recital with piano accompaniment.  It was an unexpected joy for a weekday lunchtime. As the graceful melodies filled the imposing space, sunlight filtered in from the stained glass windows and through the bare patches in the aged union jack flags mounted on the columns of the nave. I noticed the metal plaques fixed to the chairs ‘in memory of fallen comrades’ and the poignancy of the scene actually brought a tear to my eye.

I was deeply moved and thankful for the chance encounter with this rich experience but one’s daily obligations don’t disappear just because you've heard some nice music so I composed myself, placed a donation on the collection plate, and headed back to virtual reality.

London is a bewitching lagoon of full of opportunities and mystery. I've got my Speedos on and I'm diving in. 

Lunchtime surprises - brought to you by the ever-popular Anglo-Japanese Society of Wessex