I recently attended the stables at Lichfield Cathedral for an event run by Writing West Midlands. It’s a terrific venue, especially on a lovely summer’s day. It reminded me of previous visits to the cathedral.
As a schoolboy I sprinted round the tombs, up and down stairs, skidding and sliding on stone floors polished by millions of visitors.
Many years later I returned. Carved in the front of the cathedral are the kings of England. My Glaswegian father-in-law was fascinated and stared up at the stonework while he smoked. Jim loves his history and he likes it real. His eyes narrowed and he gave a wry smile when he clapped eyes on Edward I.
‘Longshanks,’ he said. ‘I ken you alright.’
His partner asked who it was Jim was staring at.
‘Him. That bastard that killed our weans.’
He was out of earshot of the Lichfield WI thankfully.