Abbotsbury 2016

I've just had a few days in Dorset, its customary loveliness only partly mitigated by the prevalence of nationalist flags. The Union Jacks lining the streets of Blandford, Dorchester and Wimborne can perhaps be blamed on the Queen's birthday, and perhaps some of the St George's Crosses in back gardens on the recent glorious progress of our national soccer team, but somehow I suspect that's not the whole story, and it makes me feel slightly uncomfortable. 

But I found my way to Abbotsbury on a grey and misty day to make my pilgrimage to the chapel of St Catherine, where I seem not to have been for some time. The mist invested the hills on the way from Winterborne Abbas, but cleared as soon as the road dropped down to Portesham. I was eyed by cattle all the way up Chapel Hill ...

and found the chapel full of birds, nesting on the statue-pedestals. The building rather whiffs a bit as a result. They were keeping up a heavy sussuration amplified by the chapel's deep acoustic, but shut up reverently as I sang the office hymn to the holy Martyr.

The upsurge in interest in the chapel and in St Catherine which affected Abbotsbury around Millennium time seems now completely to have died down. The 'votive deposit' in the little niche on the south side which used to be full of scribbled prayers and other offerings now has just a couple of dried flowers, shells, and remains of a candle or two (of course I left a prayer there). I can't remember whether the west window used to be blocked up - it now has an exceptionally ugly bit of board blocking it off. However there is still an angel in residence at the moment, just by the door.