TRAVELMAN BUCKFAST ABBEY, ENGLAND: Fear of Gossiping Monks

I left my room and took a walk around the grounds. I found the monk cemetery...

Beautiful flowers grew everywhere, the grounds were very well tended. The entire grounds of the abbey felt like they were covered under a warm, heavy blanket of peace.

It was also perfect sweater weather. It made me want to move into the guest quarters, buy a pipe and an old fashioned typewriter, sit in front of the window, and wait for the magic to happen.

I could finally write that Great American Novel! And people would tour the Abbey in the future just to look at the typewriter in front of the window, and sit at the desk to get a selfie.

Hey, it could happen! ...Actually, I’d probably end up typing “All work and no play makes Travelman a dull boy” over and over for a thousand pages.

This room was near the door that led outside. I think it’s where they examine the alien corpses they keep in the basement...

Once back inside, I swiped my key across the lock to the door that led to the cloister hallway, it didn’t work. I thought that was where I was supposed to walk through to get to dinner and to the library. I was confused. I had yet to learn the definition of the word cloister. I thought it was either a cookie or something that needed removing by the dermatologist.

I walked outside and around to the chapel. I found a monk chatting with a middle aged woman. He was standing, she was sitting at the edge of the last pew. They didn’t look to be talking about anything important (probably just the plan to transfer the alien corpse to the Vatican), so I interrupted their plotting.

This monk was younger, relatively. He looked to be anywhere between 35-45. Frocks can really throw my age recognition off.

I’d only been there a little over an hour and felt like I was bugging them. I don’t know if I was afraid they were going to kick me out for being an idiot, or if I feared they’d gossip about me around the... around the... what do monks gather around? The Bible?

-Yeah, so they’d gossip about me around the Bible, referring to me as “Green Day” (their joke, Because Green Day wrote the album American Idiot). They’d all laugh, shake their heads, say “Green Day! Oh, that most definitely is a good one Brother Sebastian!”

Then they’d snicker- Until I show up unexpectedly, and then, they’d suddenly get super, guiltily quiet... whispering, “Shh, shh, here he is. Here he is...”

“Hey Brothers, what’s up? What’s so funny?” I say, oblivious to everything

Furtive sideways glances from the monks, one of them, Brother Bill, searches for an answer to my question, sees the Bible and says, “...The Bible.”

The others look at him disappointed, like, Really? That’s what you went with? Of all the funny things to choose from, you had to go with The Bible?

Still oblivious, I respond, “Wow! Really? The bible’s funny? Gosh, I didn’t know that.”

Another monk doubles down on the ruse and says. “...Maybe that’s cuz you’re not a monk.”

The others nod, half-heartedly attempting to back him up.

Awkward, nervous silence on the part of the monks until I nod and move on, not knowing how to talk funny bible with monks.

Brother John punches Brother Bill in the arm and says, What the H-E- double hockey sticks was that, Bill! The Bible?”

Brother Bill shrugs, apologetically, “I panicked.”

Pause.

A third monk says, “...Pickles.”

“What, Brother Paul?”

Brother Paul says, “P words are funny. You should’ve said pickles.”

More awkward silence. There’s a lot of silence with monks.

...So yeah, that’s a scenario I feared.

I sheepishly explained to the monk, who I later learned was Brother Mark, that although Brother Daniel gave me the lowdown, it was a lot to take in and I was confused about how to navigate the halls. I smiled as if to indicate it was a bit silly and funny. Brother Mark gave me the tiniest of forced smiles that indicated he did not feel the humor in it as well.

...Okay, yeah. They’re definitely gonna talk about me around the Bible.

Brother Mark took me beyond the velvet rope, back into the cloister and explained the doors again. He said they lock and unlock at different times of day and that my key will work in that door before dinner.

I said thanks, Brother Mark went on his way, and I went into the library. It had that old book smell. My hope was that I’d find a mythical text that would lead me on an Indiana Jones type adventure. Instead I found a small section of two shelves on eastern religions and biographies of historical figures.

When’s the last time you saw one of these?…

I felt like I was getting smarter simply by wandering around the library. I was going to read all the books while I was there!

I ended up not reading any of them. Instead, I read a book about the soul. An Irish vicar with a penchant for photography and The Kansas City Chiefs gifted it to me the next day after I spoke with him on a bridge.

To be continued...

...pickles.

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