The churches in Soho Square all carried memories for me when I visited the Square.
The French Protestant Church was founded in 1550 in London and was a refuge for those fleeing persecution in France in 1572, and particularly after in 1685 – my mother wrote about people caught up in the St Bartholomew’s Day Massacre.
St Patrick’s Church was quiet, and peaceful. There is a pieta just inside the church, not particularly remarkable, but suddenly I thought of my mother. I miss her. I lit a candle, and remembered my father too, and my sister, all so far away.
And just round the corner, in Manette Street, the Chapel of the House of St Barnabas, where a girl who died too young was celebrated one evening.
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