I like the tight web of small shopping streets, the spread and noise of the market and the joy of being called ‘me duck’ almost everywhere.
Today Leicester is quiet - I know that even though I am not there. Alone among towns and cities in England it has been hit by an extension in lockdown measures. When everyone else is celebrating what the perennially credulous are calling Super Saturday and the return of, inter alia, pubs and hairdressers, Leicester has yet to be moved off the post-lockdown starting line.
It’s incredibly dispiriting I should imagine. Shops and cafes have recalled staff, re-planned their premises to observe social distancing and prepared themselves for the welcome return of revenue only to be told it’s not happening. Not yet anyway.
Leicester Cathedral is tucked away in the middle of the city’s busy centre. It’s not the biggest or grandest admittedly, but it has a charm and a welcome and, for those who like their history, houses the mortal remains of Richard III since they came to light in a nearby car park.
This morning’s service is another indication of how good the church has become at producing programmes. There are five different contributors in five locations, musical inserts, illustrative shots from inside the cathedral and even a decent cartoon version of the beatitudes.
This being the 72nd anniversary of the founding of the NHS (apparently) there are thanks offered to those in the modern organisation whose efforts are appreciated daily. The prayers and readings are accompanied by a splendid montage of archive shots from the city’s own infirmary down the years.
There are prayers too for the city itself. The cathedral’s plan to reopen to worshippers has been halted by the lockdown extension and the cathedral’s thoughts are with all those in the city who have had to slam the brakes on any chance of immediate moves toward normality. Services, says the Dean, may return in September, but that seems a long way off and the road between now and then filled with obstacles.
On my many country walks I often find myself conscious of time as a measure. I know when I started out, I know roughly how long it will take and I’m always aware of how much further I have before I reach the finish. It doesn’t matter how many twists and turns the path takes, I can be confident that I’ll find myself back at the car at the allotted time. To live in Leicester at the moment must be like returning to find someone has dug up the car park in search of a stray dead monarch and moved your car to a location an unknown distance away. Probably best not to dwell on things too long but keep walking.
