Mission Impossible, Christ Church Style.

I finally learned how I can gain access to Christ Church College without surrendering five of my finest royal pounds, and that is to masquerade as a pious Catholic intent on going to mass. Last night I wandered up to the gates, which were open just enough to admit one person at a time, in single file. A few old pilgrims filed in ahead of me, nodding to the warden, who stood there with an umbrella. "Going to the six o'clock evensong service?" he confirmed as I passed. I told him yes, and he pointed straight across the courtyard at an open door, telling me that this was my destination. It seemed as though he did this to make absolutely sure I knew where I was going and no excuse to wander and "become lost", although of course he didn't say that outright. I walked slowly across the dark courtyard. There are no light inside, but the moon was shinning down through gaps in the rain clouds. There was a big fountain in the middle of the yard, and lights in the highest windows.  I can't believe some people actually go to school here. I walked close to the wall rather than cut across the middle, and the warden watched me suspiciously as I went. I had no intention of trying anything funny while he was on the lookout. So I eventually came to the cathedral on the other side of the green. It was beautiful, even though I had come in by the back door, or so it seemed. The seats were like school desks and had a candle at each place, and about five different prayer and hymn books. Instead of facing the alter, like you would expect, they were arranged longitudally, so you had to look all the way to your left to see the gaudy alter way at the end of the nave. I sat at the very back for some very specific purposes, and this turned out to be a good thing, because soon the choir boys came in, and sat right next to me on my left, and also across from me. Half were tiny boys between six and nine, I'd say, and the rest all looked like college students. They sounded amazing, even though I knew they'd been doing services all day, I couldn't believe their stamina. This praise cannot be applied universally, however, since I saw one naughty little choir boy in towards the back with what was unmistakably a Harry Potter book in his lap. I couldn't believe it! He stood and sang diligently, but when the prayers were being said, he would look down his nose into his lap. I think it must be a reoccurring problem, because the choir master (who looked like he'd just been plucked out of a nice Lutheran setting in Minnesota, so kindly and wholesome was his way of conducting when he wasn't reprimanding this choir boy) kept looking at him and frowning pointedly. Another little boy was so tiny that when they knelt at various parts of the service his head did not rise above the banister, and he appeared headless as you looked down the row. One of the older boys sitting next to me said the Apostle's Creed with such enthusiasm that he spat all over his psalter (accidentally, I'm sure) and clasped his hands until his knuckles turned white. The despair with which he prayed and the joy with which he sang were so contrasting that I was more interested in guessing his story than listening to the mass, and soon they were singing the final hymn, and I had almost forgotten my true purpose in coming to the evening service....

I slipped out towards the very end, completely unnoticed by either of the ancient ushers who had been standing against the wall throughout. They seemed a little dazed as I walked past, like two sphinxes rendered comical by their negligence. As soon as I had cleared the cathedral steps and checked that the warden across the green had gone back in his little hut, I walked quickly south, as if I knew where I was going. Actually, I did have a destination in mind, but only a vague idea of how to get there- the Great Hall, that is, the Harry Potter Great Hall. I passed a few stone archways leading into a semi-open-air entries... some with stairwells, some comptely unlit, some were chained off. And then I saw, as I went flashing by, what was ummistakably the Grand Staircase. The steps were huge and the scrolls on the banisters were richly carved, and a yellow light hung over it all, making the white marble look really old. I looked up and could picture Professor McGonagall standing there sternly, but in reality I was perfectly alone. I obviously ignored the large sign that said "no visitors beyond this point" in five different languages, and climbed the famous stairs. The doors to the dining hall were pulled shut, but I knew exactly where they led. I could even hear the hum of student's voices inside, and clatter of plates as they ate dinner. Imagine eating dinner in there every single night. I walked up slowly and put my eye to the rather substantial crack in the doors, but could see nothing.


"Oy! What are you doing there?" UGH! He came out of nowhere! but he looked entirely mean spirited and more than capable of arresting me for trespassing. He was about three feet away from me, and after standing stammering on the spot for a moment I turned and ran as fast as I could, without even answering him! It was thrilling, even though he didn't follow me. I ran all the way to the front gates, past the warden house, jumping over the little chain blocking it off and through the single-file crack in the front doors. I didn't stop until I got back to the corner of Queen Street and St. Aldates- phew, the thrill was totally worth the fear, and I hope you won't judge me too harshly if I congratulate myself on my daring (though, ultimately doomed) mission.


Off now to read Chretien de Troyes, the original creator of the "Bromance" phenomena, as well as the Medieval Romantic Epic.