This evening, before attempting to write something clever about my morning at and in St. Paul’s, I used my phone to check the Wikipedia article on the Cathedral. Despite all my previous study of Wren, Hawksmoor, and rest of the go-for-Baroque gang in the post-Fire Restoration period, I felt compelled to make sure that I had my dates and place-names “down pat”.

Come now, you would do it too. There’s no excuse for petty historical errors when you have a pocket supercomputer.

I happened to notice the Wiki-article’s photograph of Wren’s great dome, and for whatever reason I decided to “pinch-to-zoom” in on the so-called “Golden Gallery” just below the Lantern at the top, as I visited today.

And I found myself confronted by my own unmistakable likeness within that enlarged photo — Lennon-esque round-lens sunglasses, pasty-cadaverous complexion, buzz-cut thinning-gray, resting-grim-face and all — nearly dead middle, standing behind the shiny railing and glaring straight into whatever distant high-resolution camera captured that public domain image. Slightly pixelated, but there I am.

Now this would be an amusing coincidence, something to simply laugh about. But there is a problem here: the photo in question was made in January 2015, according to the accompanying caption.

And today was my first visit to the Gallery, as well as to St. Paul’s. Ever. Tarrying briefly two or three times previously in the capital, I was either too busy or too impoverished-student-poor to drop-in on Sir Chris and the other worthies. Furthermore, I know where I was in most of 2015, and it was never near London.

So. . . .

So does this mean anything? Or is it just another one of those pointless “uncannities” that seem to have punctuated my long life? Ugh. You would think that it would mean something, that it was some sort of significant omen or portent. But I am relatively sure that it’s just another piece of random weirdness, for the sake-of-weirdness.

I’m not going to look at that Wikipedia article or photo again. I am being toyed with to no purpose by no-one.

There’s a copy of Mother London sitting on my desk back home. I suppose I should get around to reading it. 

(A/N:  My hotel in London was nearby, just where Ludgate Hill becomes the Churchyard, so I when I stepped out I usually found myself regarding the Cathedral from new vantages and during different lighting conditions. I’ve added a few other favorite photos of the great pile that I took at other times during my eight-day sojourn in the city, just for the sake of completeness. Also, I miss hearing the Bells. RESVRGAM!)