Just like a piece of antic which keeps increasing its value in the midst of new products around it, does a ruin also becomes more dear and adorable when new establishments emerge surrounding it? Does the contrast become so fascinatingly clear between the new and the old especially when the remnants of the older edifice is allowed to keep standing with its long lost glory in the crowd of glamorous and modern new structures? Pretty much so as we discovered when our last weekend wandering led us to the serene St.Dunstan-in-the-East.
Situated not far from the busy bustling of London City between London Bridge and the Tower of London, this previous Church of England parish church survived the Great Fire of London in 1667 and was largely destroyed in the Second World War and what is left now as ruins are made a public garden.
An erstwhile church and place of worship which even God could not protect from the German bombs which got showered during the Blitz. Not even the fury of the Great Fire of London could be stopped from engulfing the place where the Lord was praised. What is left now is this interesting piece of its turbulent history with the amalgamation of an open garden with the Gothic style walls and windows that keep standing as the testimony to the tumultuous episodes.
Benches are aplenty, allowing visitors to take a pause to reflect on the arches, the height of the walls and to imagine the rooftop which might have once covered the sky above. Golden and red autumn leaves seemed to have found a wall-like-shoulder to cry on and hang on to before the angel of winter arrives them to take their leafy souls away for this season.
The red coat I donned to visit St. Dunstan did not have any intention to be the red herring, stealing the mysterious glamour away from the ruins. Rather it instilled a sense of vivacity in the elements found around the tall-standing walls of the church. Paired with an embroidered black net dress with sheer arms, I finished out the look with matchy matchy red beret hat, envelope clutch and black court shoes.
What we saw through the windows largely depended on which lights they allowed to let through. Playing hide and seek with the cloudy intervals, the windows appeared to be breathing sighs of historic burden and pangs of decay, staring poignantly at the shinier and stronger neighbours around.
If you liked what we were wearing and also if you like the St. Dunstan-in-the-East, share this post with your friends now and make a plan to see for yourself this beautiful piece of architecture not far from the heart of London.
What were we wearing?1