Tower and Town, March 2015 (view the full edition)Thomas WolseyFlashback 
I watched a mother wheeling a pushchair past the church. In the opposite direction an elderly couple walked hand in hand. I myself stood facing the pale blue plaque. I read it, over and over, engraving the words into my memory. The words 'Ordained priest in this church' stood out in particular. It struck me that I was standing in an important place, a place valued by history, valued by the man who began his religious journey right here. Slowly my imagination drifted back to the scene of 10 th March 1496. I heard the church bells celebrating the day. Flowers lined the walls surrounding the church. I watched people flowing into the church like a river. Wolsey's family and friends chattered excitedly. A middle-aged man had wrapped his arm around a woman, whom I imagined to be Wolsey's mother. She clutched a handkerchief to her mouth, muttering something inaudible to anyone but the man beside her. The bishop stood aside at the door and upon seeing the woman, took her hand in his and welcomed her warmly. She nodded respectfully to him before proceeding into the church. After a few minutes the flow of people became a dribble before stopping completely. The church fell silent as the service began. I strolled around the church, picturing the brightly coloured bunting, dripping down from the houses, strung across the street. The town market was in full swing. A spring breeze ruffled through the trees. Before long, an excited chatter erupted like a volcano from inside the church. Then he appeared. I did not recognise him by sight but instinctively, I knew who he was. I stood, rooted to the spot as I watched Thomas Wolsey stroll around the church, side by side with the bishop. There was the man that would annul the first marriage of King Henry VIII. Blinking, as if waking up from a deep sleep, I looked around at the modern world. I saw the shops with their calligraphic signs, cars bustling up and down the High Street, late schoolchildren hurrying to lessons. Once more I glanced up at the silent plaque and walked away, leaving its history behind me. Checkie Hamilton |