Canterbury, gaining its name from the Celtic Cantai tribe that once settled by the river Stour many aeons ago, was a historic city. Interestingly enough it was only a city due to its majestic Cathedral that dominated the horizon for many miles around. In fact, the city had made it a law that no building could in any way obstruct the view of the Cathedral’s towers and hence aided its domination. To those who lived there, they only saw the church of England, who used the cathedral as their capital, the archbishop being the head honcho, as greedy landlords. The sheer quantity of tourists who visited this city to stomp the stone paved streets lent to a healthy local economy, and as the city was on the road between London and Dover, made for an excellent midway stop for cyclists and motorists alike.
Joe walked out of Canterbury East, one of two train stations that served the city. He found himself atop a great flint wall that wrapped the eastern city in its protective embrace. He strolled along the top of the wall taking in the sites of the garden’s below, checking his phone occasionally to maintain direction. It didn’t take him long until he found himself on the high street, a bustling thoroughfare, with buskers, touters, fruit sellers and pickpockets alike. Finding the place reminiscent slightly of the old Woolwich gunnery, he continued down the cobbled street, passing tudor buildings, who sat like old bulldogs facing the much uglier 60’s buildings that held host to the usual array of high street shops. The juxtaposition of eras was common to Kent, seeing most of their towns bombed during the second world war.
Delving down a narrow alleyway that was made up mostly of pubs and restaurants, Joe finally exited into a square that faced the entrance to the cathedral. The hubbub of the crowd was greater here, especially due to the various pubs outside seating that sat lining the square. Feeling his throat somewhat parched, Joe ordered himself a pint from the Buttermarket Inn, and then sat outside in the square to observe the passers by. He felt oddly content as he sat there, people watching, seeing the various nations gawk at statues and ancient buildings. He was proud of his country, but the philosopher in him punished him for this sentiment. Built on lies and the entrenchment of the peasants he thought. Then again, he considered, the peasants are long dead and we might as well enjoy what is left, despite its questionable origins.
He shook his head at his foolishness, what does it matter anyway? From ashes to ashes, dust to dust. What matters is the now, the present. He took a sip of his cool beer and nodded his head sagely. ‘Mmm, and the present is very good. I am alive when recently I was almost dead. I feel like I can never view the world the same way’. He began to feel a strong anticipation rise in his chest, fondling the amphora that was nestled in his pocket. ‘What will the future bring?’ he mused.
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Two o'clock soon came round and the great bells of Canterbury Cathedral chimed twice. Before Joe stood a figure from his past, an elegant figure, a figure which would not be amiss if it were to be the lead actress in a major Hollywood romance. Joe stood up politely to welcome the figure “Julia. It’s good to see you” he crossed the table to give her a hug. “Can I get you a drink?”. Julia, on the other hand, was stunned when she saw Joe. He did not look like the hulking rugby player that she remembered. In fact she was so shocked by his diminutive appearance she forgot to answer his question and left them standing awkwardly.
“Drink?” he asked again.
“Er, whatever you’re having please Joe”
“Coming right up” he smiled, glad that she hadn’t changed that much, on the surface at least.
After Joe had returned with her beer, they sat in contemplative silence for a while until Julia broke it. “So what is it that you need my help with Joe, professionally?” She brushed her hair behind her ear as she spoke, exposing the scintillating array of earrings that bejewelled the curve of her ear. “I actually would like your help in analysing a substance” he said, revealing the amphora. “This substance is extremely mysterious to me, and I picked it up by chance. There are only two drops in here, and I would love to know their chemical makeup with the goal of possibly reproducing it” he passed the amphora to Julia.
“Seems like quite a simple request Joe. Surely you could have rented your own lab to do this, no?” she asked with her eyebrows raised, studying the clay amphora.
“Mmm, maybe I could have, or could do, if you don’t want to help, but honestly, you are the better chemist out of the pair of us, especially as I didn’t even make it past first year” a glimmer of regret passed over Joe’s face as he spoke. Julia noticed this and felt her heart tremble slightly, she knew of the pain and regret Joe felt after his accident and assumed he still had the same difficulties as before. It should be noted that Joe had expressly not used his right arm in front of Julia, in the want to save time on an explanation. Explaining things to one’s brother is easier than in the face of a highly intelligent woman such as Julia, who would surely nitpick at his every white lie.
Julia weighed the amphora in her hand and then looked at Joe. “I can do this for you, but” she raised her delicate hand as Joe’s expression brightened “ you have to tell me where you have been and why you now look like a character out of The Nightmare before Christmas?”
Joe chuckled, “this I can do, although a bit harsh on the reference no?” Julia smiled coyly but remained silent as Joe settled down to begin his tale.