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Cathedral Cats. Richard Surman
Читать онлайн.Название Cathedral Cats
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9780008140656
Автор произведения Richard Surman
Жанр Домашние Животные
Издательство HarperCollins
Adjacent to the Great Cloisters, in a house that forms part of a medieval gateway, live two cats, Rhubarb and Fungus – mother and daughter. The household in which they live is best described as an ecclesiastical ark, and is presided over by Canon Edward Condry, Canon Treasurer at the cathedral, his wife Sarah and their four children, Fran, Felix, Jerome and Hannah, who are nominally responsible for regulating the animal affairs of the household.
Fungus and Rhubarb are members of a varied household – both cats have had to make major adjustments to their natural inclinations; Fungus, when really pressed for somewhere peaceful quiet and warm to lay her head, pulls up the lid on Little Nell’s cage, clambers in and snuggles up to her (Little Nell is a guinea pig). As for the dogs of the house – Jumble, Tigger and Jim – the cats will sometimes use them as scratching posts, but for the most part, they are ignored. This approach has not been entirely successful: cats can cope with being ignored, but an ignored dog just tries harder and harder to attract attention. For an intent cat, there is nothing worse than a dog nosing in, butting the cat for attention and whacking its tail loudly against a nearby dustbin. If life gets a bit hectic they wander together over to the cloisters, where they charm the occasional edible treat from cathedral visitors.
Occasionally their timing is out, and they come nose to nose with Magic, another cathedral cat at Canterbury.
Rhubarb keeps a wary eye on the cloisters
Magic also likes the cloisters. She goes there regularly and when she finds Fungus and Rhubarb there as well, the cloisters echo to distinctly unholy sounds: it’s a bit like buskers competing for space. Magic lived in the Condry’s old house before moving to another part of the cathedral precincts with her family, the Rev. Dr Canon Richard Marsh, his wife Elizabeth, and their daughter Phoebe. She loves her new house at the cathedral. At the end of a large private garden are the old city walls, on which she sits, watching the outside world scurry by. At the other end, the Bell Harry Tower rises majestically over the cathedral nave, in front of which can be seen the Corona chapel, the original home of St Thomas à Becket’s relics.
Not even the dogs can follow Fungus out of the window
Visits to the deanery are a regular item in her diary, although one day she had to explain indignantly – and ultimately unconvincingly – that she was only looking at the whole salmon laid out for lunch. And unlike Rhubarb and Fungus, Magic has found her way into the cathedral, another regular part of her perambulations around her precinct. The Good Friday services perplexed her a little: they are very long, so she distracted herself (and much of the congregation) by hopping on and off the canons’ stalls, eventually settling with a sigh of resignation to an extended grooming session. She enjoys being with the choir too: this seems to be a favourite pastime for cathedral cats, and Magic has stolen the show more than once! But on a quiet summer’s evening, with the cathedral almost entirely to herself, Magic likes nothing more than to stretch out on the throne of St Augustine, having a good wash while she plans the next day’s itinerary.
Magic’s magical view of the cathedral
Rhubarb and Fungus, trying unsuccessfully to ignore Tigger the dog
‘Most of us rather like our cats to have a streak of wickedness. I should not feel quite easy in the company of any cat that walked about the house with a saintly expression’
Beverley Nichols
THE CATHEDRAL
One of the smallest cathedrals in England, Chelmsford Cathedral serves the second largest diocese, with a population of over two and half million, covering some 600 parishes, as well as the suburban boroughs of East London.
Bishop Maurice – Lord of the Manor of Chelmsford – inspired the bridging of the river Chelmer, and as a result of the regular flow of traffic between London and Colchester, a thriving settlement sprang up, and with it the parish church of St Mary. Rebuilt in the 15th century, the church finally became a cathedral in 1914.
An important part of the welcome given to visitors of the new Cathedral Centre of Chelmsford Cathedral is provided by Tomkins, a splendid, portly black and white cat named after the Elizabethan composer Thomas Tomkins, and owned by Peter Nardone, organist and Director of Music at Chelmsford Cathedral.
Tomkins is a rescue cat in every sense. When first found, he was in the garden of a derelict house in South London, frantically struggling to rid himself of a kitten collar, not because he disliked collars on principle, but because he was two years old, and the collar around his neck was for a six-month kitten: it was slowly strangling him. The fact that Tomkins had survived at all was a tribute to his strength and determination. Relieved of the collar, Tomkins was transformed into a character brimming over with gratitude and confidence, and through the efforts of the Cats Protection League, was introduced to Peter Nardone. Tomkins was Peter’s first cat (and Peter probably Tomkins’ first consistent human contact) and he rewarded Peter’s kindness with the kind of devotion more commonly expected of dogs. When Peter moved to his current position at Chelmsford Cathedral, he and Tomkins took up residence in a secluded house on the edge of the cathedral gardens, separated from the cathedral by the recently built Cathedral Centre, and a busy road – which Tomkins has the good sense not to cross. The cathedral is a modest, but airy and pleasing, gothic building and it is noted for its vibrant parish life and music, as well as being the venue for a renowned annual music and arts festival.
There’s a softer side to Tomkins, not often seen by the neighbourhood cats
Tomkins and Saint Francis of Assissi – an act of phoney contrition
In a secluded grotto in the gardens stands a statue of St Francis of Assissi (patron saint of all animals), to which Tomkins started to pay regular visits. Some have speculated that in the cause of good public relations, Tomkins had decided that devout postures might serve as a diversion from his enthusiastic policing of other cats in the gardens. Whatever the explanation, Peter worries that over time the expression on the saint’s face seems to have become slightly less benign, more exasperated, almost disapproving; but maybe it’s just a trick of the light.
Around the time of the lively annual festival, Tomkins entertains and is entertained by the artists, performers, international musicians and groups who pass through here. Tomkins also diverts the many visitors from North America who come to Chelmsford; the South Porch was enhanced in the 1950s as a tribute to the endeavours and sacrifices of USAF air crews based in the area during the Second World War. George Washington’s arms are also on display in the South Porch (his great-great-grandfather was a rector in Essex.) And if the choristers happen to be en route from the cathedral, he happily brings up the rear, rather like a sheep cat.
But for all his adventurings outside the home, inside it Tomkins leads a tranquil existence: every day he goes, tail lifted in greeting, to meet the postman. He always calls when the newspapers come through the