Today I was what the Brits call a “day tripper” (remember that old Beatles song? Although, upon reflection, that might have been about some other sort of “tripper”). Anyway, my own trip to Canterbury today could not have been more innocent. I was, in time-honored manner, making a pilgrimage to the great cathedral and shrine of Saint Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, that holy blissful martyr I spoke of in yesterday’s post, murdered in his own cathedral by a bunch of knightly thugs in 1170.
Thanks to a total upgrade in what used to be British Rail,