I’m feeling much better, so I decided that I’d take the short walk down to spend some time at the Cathedral and environs.

Being less than a five minute walk from “home” seemed attractive with the temp around 32°F. I wore corduroy pants, a long sleeve thermal shirt, two giant scarves, a jacket, my heated shoes, and once I got outside, I went back up into the hotel to get my headband! Icy too — there was a little bit of slipping and sliding on those cobblestones.

There’s a ton of history in this five minute walk, so I fear this is going to read like a textbook. Fortunately/unfortunately I know a lot about the history of this area. My ancestors owned land here and had an interest in Shakespeare’s Globe. So, if this post reads like a textbook, I hope it’s an interesting one.

Out the front door, and through the Clink Street Tunnel! It’s called Clink Street because the local lock-up was here. There’s a corny/gory “museum” on the site now. I’ve been there before, but I couldn’t bring myself to go another time. And this is where we get the slang term “the clink.” This was the local jail belonging to the Bishop of Winchester. More on him later.

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Just past The Clink, you’ll find remains of the Bishop’s Palace. All we’re really seeing here are the remains of the Great Hall, where said Bishop would have his big bishopy feasts and such. “Look how rich and Bishopy I am!” The rest of the remains were yanked down. Thanks, Victorians.

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At this point in history, the Bishop was the ruler of this area, which was called The Liberty of the Clink. A “liberty” was an area outside the jurisdiction of the City of London, and therefore, it did not have to abide by the same laws.

The theaters (considered dicey in the Elizabethan era), the animal-baiting arenas, and the brothels were located here. The bishops were totally in on it. They licensed the brothels and were often landlord of their premesis. (I’m not kidding.)

The Clink existed to lock up unruly customers or disagreeable licensees. The Queen & Council’s attitude was, “We’re going to have brothels anyway. Might as well keep them all in one place over there on the other side of the river; along with Shakespeare, Burbage, and the rest of those reprobates.” (BTW — Queen Elizabeth I actually loved theatre!) More about all this on Globe day.

You’ll pass the replica of Sir Francis Drake’s The Golden Hinde on your left. Choose your own admission price and go on board to look around, but it’s shockingly small. Not much to see. How they fit a crew plus that stolen Spanish treasure on this thing, I have no idea. I believe the replica has sailed around the world and stuff, just like the original. It was a lot easier to take a photo of it before that thing was being built behind it.

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Take a super quick right and a super quick left, and you’re on Winchester Walk, facing Southwark Cathedral, formerly the Church of St Mary Overie (overie meaning “over the river”). My ancestors’ parish, once upon a time.

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Today ended up being one of those days in the life of a church when a thing is going on, and they had all the gates locked. The signs said there was a door open … somewhere. I walked around the entire thing up and down the hill and icy steps twice before I saw somebody on the other side of a window and finally figured it out. It was through the gift shop, which was odd, because I tried that door the first time around and it was locked at 10am (and the people on the other side of the door just stared at me).

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And now, a bunch of cathedral photos. I’ll explain in each caption.

I’m going to the service at the cathedral tomorrow morning at 11, and we’ll see if I feel like doing much else afterwards, especially if I end up being there a while. Of course, I have absolutely no problem sneaking a video so you can hear the organ during a hymn or prelude. LOL

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Their grave markers are the paving stones. Now. They are under their somewhere, probably near-ish the stone; in the crypt. Or they could’ve been moved a few feet this way or that to fit more people. (Also very common.) Shakespeare’s brother Edmund (also an actor) is under there. I’d seen his marker before — I think it’s in the choir. I didn’t go looking because all it says is “Edmund Shakespeare.” Will paid for it, of course. Parting thought — If you were allowed and you knew how to get down into the crypt, there are indeed a bunch of centuries-old dead people down there in disintegrating coffins.

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I was going to play the pipe organ at London Bridge Station today (I was right there), but my hands were just way too cold even with gloves on, and it’s only sort of indoors. (Hard to explain.)

We’ll see what tomorrow brings!

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