Yesterday at the War Memorial outside the Cathedral on Rochester High Street I noticed a small white ‘package’ sitting on the plinth.
I waked around to the other side and there was another – consisting of a small sheet of cotton wool held in place by stones and sticks.
No suggestion of what this might have meant – an art-school installation, a meditation on Joseph Beuys with cotton wool standing in for Tartar felt, or some cryptic ritual? Or perhaps the cotton wool represents the approach of the heritage industry in a town like Rochester. Small scraps are wrapped in cotton wool while the rest is left to the market place.
I walked around the Cathedral in an anticlockwise direction and found myself in front of the ancient catalpa (Indian Bean Tree) where a further votive offering had been left on the railing protecting the tree from ‘vandals’.
Delightful as it is to come across such eldritch communications, I am left with a small disappointment because my hunger for meaning hasn’t been assuaged.