Preston: A Nice Catholic Sunday

To get to the Old Latin Mass, I caught a 7.30 bus from Bury to Bolton, and then the train from Bolton to Preston.

Somehow, I managed to get to the SSPX church, Our Lady of Victories, about 20 minutes early:

Giving me time for Confession before Mass (with an erudite, French-sounding priest).

The life-size Crucifixion Scene behind the altar at Our Lady of Victories immediately prompts a reverence for Mass:

After Mass, a friend took me to a couple of interesting places of Catholic significance.

First, through moving to just the other side of Winckley Square, to Winckley Street, we visited the birthplace of the famous Catholic poet, Francis Thompson (1859-1907):

This had been a big wish of mine since first becoming aware of the incredible life story and work of Thompson through reading a book by the Catholic/Christian Literature commentator, Joseph Pearce.

I've just read from an online blog by Daniel Burt that as a child, Thompson was shy and abstract-minded, and at the tender age of 11, he was thrust into a Catholic seminary, Ushaw College, where he developed his keen interest in poetry, especially the work of John Donne and William Wordsworth (one of my favourite poets).

However, after being involved with Medicine for some time, and not passing a medical examination to get into the army, Thompson ended up moving to London in 1885.

By 1887, in his late 20s, Thompson was living destitute as a struggling (Catholic) poet who did several forms of low menial work to just feed and clothe himself. 

Such a dire personal situation had led Thompson to consider suicide, but he claimed to have been saved through a vision of the 18th century poet, Thomas Chatterton (1752-1770), who'd taken his own life in similar circumstances. Moreover, Thompson is known to have been helped out, both financially and emotionally, by a benevolent prostitute in London.

In 1888, Thompson's literary talent started to be recognised and he had some poems published in the Catholic world, but sadly, his prostitute friend disappeared without trace, with Thompson being left forlorn.

But still, Thompson's heartbroken state allowed him to produce great poetry, including his most famous piece, Hound of Heaven, which contains the profound message that even in a person's lowest moments, God's love never abandons a troubled or wayward soul. Think that many more people should be made aware of this sublime truth.

Thompson died in his late 40s in 1907 as drug addiction, ill health, and poverty eventually took their toll. But at least during his life, he seems to have strongly reactivated his Catholic faith and a Catholic soul.

Interestingly, Thompson's writing has been admired by amongst others, the great J.R.R. Tolkien. 

After the paying of respects to Francis Thompson, my friend then took me to a gin and beer bar called Plau, which lies down a side-street (Friargate) on the other side of the High Street, where a 43-foot deep, medieval well had been discovered not that long ago:

Have just read that the building dates back to the late 17th century, with the name Friargate suggesting that the well was possibly connected to an old monastery.