A cellphone camera at the end of a stick had revealed an archbishop’s mitre on a stack of coffins.
Five archbishops, the great and the good of their time, had lain there for centuries in that dank void in company of rats.
It is an ironic resurrection at Eastertime.
On TV the current incumbent gives the age-old message of hope from Westminster Abbey to the dwindling faithful.
While he preaches my heart fills with gloom as I think of his predecessors immured in their sordid tomb.