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The Luxury of Calm

The Luxury of Calm

Author: Jo Rushby
Date: 2025-04-25

Oh, to be in London. This city that tantalised me. I lived here in the late 1990s. And now, over three decades later, I was back. My heart skipped a beat as I strolled down Charing Cross. Old London was hanging on. A detour into Mayfair, and the stench of extravagance was overwhelming. Chanel. Givenchy. Gucci. Louis Vuitton. My Mr. Price backpack seemed as out of place as a Protestant at the Vatican. Here, the pavements are literally lined with gold and a few Lamborghinis to boot. Where Handel, later Hendrix lived in the same flat, the buildings Georgian, Victorian, arcades steeped in time and feeding a desire for luxury which remains unsated.

But I had learnt the art of walking, by straying. The labyrinths of times past were everywhere. I snuck down an alleyway, and suddenly Phoenix like, rising before me, was All Saints Church in Margaret Street. It seemed closed. Heavy wooden doors. Open me. I was drawn in. It felt as if somebody had sneaked up behind me and inserted earplugs. Silence. No-one.

Pillars stood at oblique angles, light pouring in. An angel flapped its' wings on a marble plinth. And in the distance, a vast stained-glass window shimmered kaleidoscopic light onto the prophets Enoch, Isaiah, and Malachi. The words of Genesis seemed so apt: 'How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven'.

In a city overwhelmed by the new, there is something so restorative about these sanctuaries of old. This is not the restoration of Estée Lauder moisturisers or Harley Street Botox. Places like All Saints are where you can dig deep into the interior of one's life as you are trying to flee it. They offer peace from turmoil, a time to reflect, those who have passed, a chance to take a breath.

Oxford Street could well be another country. First occupied in the 18th century, architect William Butterfield began work on All Saints in the mid-19th century. The Organ was built in 1910 and today, the Church stands in all its glory after a 25-year revamp. It is a building of supreme beauty.

Samuel Johnson once rebuked his friend and biographer Boswell with the words; 'When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life'. London can tire you out, but it can also give you light.

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