Custodial reveries

My weekly custodial rounds are just a tiny fraction of what used to be, of course. Mostly I’m trying to keep a couple of plants alive, and safe-checking against possible damage to the church structure.

Yesterday I headed up to the balcony. It’s an easy place to ignore — with the exception of a funeral for an especially prominent citizen, parishioners haven’t used it in years. It’s a storage space at this point. I checked the windows for cracks or breaks, the various joints for water damage, etc. The building is remarkably sound.

I took a seat in one of the pews and meditated for a few minutes. My eye fixed on the pew’s iron work — intricately moulded patterns of a Victorian bent (the church was built in 1895. These pews would likely be of that vintage).

My mind cast to another local balcony — Sunderland Town Hall, where I have attended many, many Sunderland Lions Music Festivals. Grandparents with mobility concerns typically received pride of place on the main floor, while the more able of us trudged up to the balcony. We swapped places with parents whose progeny had just finished their performance — the stomp of winter boots, the hiss of parkas sliding against each other as we traded places. When our kids finally graduated from all that I was relieved.

I don’t miss it — even the most benign gatherings put me a little on edge. But it was quite a privilege to participate in and be part of this encouragement of local talent. I miss that privilege.

Hopefully after a couple of jabs the privilege returns. Until then the balcony is closed.