Vonny wrote:
We had a look inside Exeter Cathedral last summer and definitely didn't pay for entrance.
I really enjoyed my Exeter Cathedral summer. I was told that the entry fee system had been going for just over a year, Vonny, after endless debate/agonising by the Dean ("call me Jonathan") and Chapter. On the whole people were willing to pay an admission charge - which I made a concession whenever possible - when they saw what incredibly specialist maintenance and restoration is needed. I was allowed to charge at my own discretion, however! When visitors objected, I really tried to smooth things over and listen to their perfectly valid point of view. Sometimes I could see that the entry charge debate would ruin their visit and refused to charge them when they felt strongly about the issue - why be confrontational? That visitor would have an wonderful time and as often as not come back and give a generous donation.
The lovely newly-weds who ran in to light a candle after their civil ceremony!
The breaved couple who tearfully came in to pray after the death in action of their soldier nephew.
The soprano who arrived late for the African Sanctus rehearsal, who I smuggled into St Edmund's Chapel to change into her choral outfit!
Sometimes, visitors would ask me my own favourite things to see. Of course, I always spoke of the cat entry hole beneath the 1484 clock - cat in charge of mice and rats! - it's charming. And then there's the painting on the St Gabriel Chapel door of St Apollonia, Middle Ages Patron Saint of dentists. The Saint is holding long pincers with an extracted tooth...
I enthused over St Apollonia, and have every reason to believe that the Saint was looking out for me recently. Over a week ago I slipped and fell on the wet paving stones outside my back door. I fell t over a, injuring my face and smashing four front teeth. The horrendous cost of veneers, implants, crowns, cappings etc filled me with fear. I found a dentist who would do trauma assessments quickly, just to know the sheer horrible expense of a repair job. The assessment was a basic £16.50, but as Emily, the lovely girl dentist, began X-raying, my mind began reckoning up -
ker-ching! ker-ching! Incredibly. the teeth were still alive, and if I could wait an hour, she would do what she could. "I'm going to be a toothless hag!" I wailed. "Like a Blackadder Crone!"
I went back to the waiting room, fortified myself with water from the cooler and read Psychologies magazine, hoping that I would find advice on adjusting to the status of a toothless crone. Back in the chair, wearing the wraparound sunglasses I tried to make out what the dentist was doing... difficult! Three quarters of an hour later she handed me a mirror. It was like a scene from 10 Years Younger. She had restored my teeth - but how? Miraculous! Incredible! Shrieks, ecstatic hugs!
Total cost - £16.50. I absolutely couldn't believe this. The Saint and her pincers must have inspired Emily the dentist ! If anything, my front teeth looked a bit nicer.
Sorry, rather off-topicky, but I'm so, so grateful. A Saint in action.
