Coventry: City of Larkin, Godiva and Forty-five Types of Potato

Just in case you got the impression from my last post that everyone in Coventry is on a higher celestial plane than the rest of us, this one may correct that idea.

One of Coventry’s most famous sons is the poet Philip Larkin. Hull, which has just ended its year as UK City of Culture claims Larkin too as he worked there for many years and by all accounts loved the place. But Coventry is not going to let Hull steal all the glory. Indeed no. The poet is honoured with a building named after him.

Larkin pub

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Inspirational Coventry

I’ll write more about today and post more pictures I’m sure.

I went back to Coventry, my third visit in ten months. It was a dull day. My first two visits were in bright sunshine. But Coventry on a dull day still shines more brightly than many other venues. My visit confirmed what I learned last year; Coventry is a vibrant city, a friendly city, a city with heart, an inspiring city.

The day after the cathedral was bombed to bits in November 1940, when 500 people lost their lives and over 1,000 were seriously injured, and many more rendered homeless, the dean made a speech among the ruins calling for forgiveness. When the city was rebuilt it became a centre of peace and reconciliation, reaching out to erstwhile enemies, building bridges. Today it continues that work, and is proud of how it welcomes refugees, working to create a culture that crosses boundaries, nurtures respect and understanding and embraces humanity.

That’s all I’m going to say tonight. But I shall upload some pictures of the cathedral. Maybe they’ll speak more clearly.

Baptistry

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Coventry, City of Culture 2021

I went to Coventry again today. It was fab. I knew it would be. I went there for the first time in February. I fully intend to return before long and explore some more.

It’s going to be the City of Culture in 2021. It’s going to be brilliant.

It’s been twinned with more cities than I can remember, mainly I think because its mission to promote peace and reconciliation.

I think it should be twinned with the Elephant and Castle, SE1. The clue is in the coat of arms.

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The Elephant in the Room

Well, not really a room, more a district and a city. Let me explain.

When I visited Coventry last week I was surprised and intrigued to find representations of elephants.

A Line of Balancing Elephants

I live close to the Elephant and Castle in London. I’m used to references to elephants hereabouts. We have a magnificent one with a howdah on his back that adorns the delapidated shopping centre; there’s Elephant Cars based in Elephant Road; the Electric Elephant Café here in Walworth, offices in Hannibal House; Elefest, once our annual beano celebrating all things Elephant connected. But I was unaware of any pachyderm associations with Coventry, usually a city more renowned for its connections with Lady Godiva’s naked horse riding event. However, elephants there definitely were.

 

An Elephant in the Wall

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Send Me to Coventry

It’s book group tonight. I have missed the last two meetings. In January I was at the panto, in February I was in Ireland. Just as well I haven’t doublebooked myself this month as the book was my choice. It’s a novel by Sarah Moss called The Tidal Zone. I believe I wrote about here when I first read it last summer. It was my book of 2016, and it’s definitely in my current top ten of all time favourites.

The novel is written from the viewpoint of Adam, a stay at home dad and part time academic. I’m not going to go into the plot of the whole novel, just say that Adam’s current academic project is researching the rebuilding of Coventry cathedral which was lost in the bombing of the Second World War.

The writing is luminous, the descriptions of how the cathedral came to be rebuilt through the passion and vision of its architect Basil Spence, breathtaking. The project was an act of faith, and finishing the novel I knew I needed to make the long neglected trip to the Midlands to see it.

I went on Tuesday. Somehow I had imagined all of Coventry to have flattened during the war, so the streets and buildings that survived were a welcome surprise. I took my time, made my way across the city, circled the cathedral’s exterior, ate the lunch I had brought with me in sunshine. The glimpses of the jeweled glass I had seen through an open door on the north side were enough to tell me I shouldn’t be disappointed.

Whether I should have loved it so much had I not read The Tidal Zone I don’t know. Certainly passages from the novel echoed in my head as I walked around, the way Spence wanted the cathedral to reveal itself gradually, so that the glass in all its gorgeous glory is only appreciated as you move from west to east.

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