Yesterday morning, we travelled some distance to an Extraordinary Form Mass, in the very beautiful setting of Our Lady and St Wilfrid's Church, Warwick Bridge. It is a very small church, and very beautiful in a Victorian way: an intact Pugin design including rood screen and other beautiful details.
The Mass was a Low Mass: very quiet and prayerful.
Perhaps it was the combination: the travel, the Saturday morning, the quiet Low Mass, and the beautiful setting, along with the fact that I have recently been musing on my Father's relationship with the liturgical changes, that made me remember with new clarity, and possibly new insight, the Saturday mornings of my early teens.
Because back then, in the 1970s, we used to travel into London on a Saturday morning, taking the tube to South Kensington. Then we would go to the Oratory, make our way to the Lady Chapel, and then push through heavy curtains into St Wilfrid's Chapel.
Plutarch on post truth - And why should any one be astonished that men of wanton life lose no occasion for offering up sacrifices, as it were, of contumelious abuse ...
2 hours ago