Walsingham water...

... from England's Nazareth.

Recent pilgrims to Walsingham brought back a big bucket of water from the well there. The well was discovered in the early years of the 20th century, and is thought to date back to Saxon times...perhaps to the very foundation of the shrine in the years immediately before the Norman Conquest.

It was a time of fear and uncertainty in the Middle East, with militant Moslem armies asserting control and gaining territory.  And in an English village, six miles from the  North Sea and a world away from the Holy Land, the lady of the manor, who was related to the Saxon royal house that would shortly be overthrown by the Conquest, had a vision...

The Walsingham water  brought back from this summer's pilgrimage has been placed in a covered container in this church which is in the care of the Ordinariate of Our Lady of Walsingham, and we have been urged to take some home...not to drink, but to sprinkle prayerfully, especially if some one is ill and in need of prayer and consolation...

So the other evening, I was travelling home on the Tube with (a) a big basket of jam jars donated so that I can fill them with apple jelly and damson cheese for the Towards Advent Festival and (b) a couple of jars of water but (c) no train ticket as I had left the wretched thing  (OYSTER pass) back at the church. Forunately it was late, and people were kind. Fellow-passengers rallied round - initially amused at my frantic  efforts to search through my backpack for the ticket, and then helpful when these proved hopeless and truth dawned. On the Tube trundling through the southern suburbs, conversation flowed. One chap kindly gave me complementary tickets for a play in which he was performing in Leicester Square this weekend (alas, I am unable to attend). Another, befriending me at a bus-stop, got chatting about books and turned out to be a fellow-writer and saw me safely to my destination. People are kind. No one asked about the water: I hope Our Lady of Walsingham blesses them all...