Although I might walk down the streets often, I’m still surprised by the depths of history that surround me in this country. I noticed this door and signs just off the high street in central gloucester. The words “old crypt schoolroom” are striking and uncomfortable, and from an age when a crypt was not a thing of horror movies but part of life and people lucky enough to be buried in a church crypt were though to be closer to their God.
And the door is so worn, and painted, and lowered, and small, because it is so old. Five hundred years ago, people were smaller and the road was likely to be much lower. Something to think about and remember from days gone by. I walk in the paths of those who have been this way before, and not just because it’s a high street.
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