IF THESE OLD WALLS COULD SPEAK

The walls are witness to our lives and history. The old hewn stone radiates the heat of our battles, our sorrows and our passions. And, all around us, our monuments keep the secrets of our victories - and our failures.

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I was on holiday last week. Travelling across Spain with my friend and travelling companion, Richard. This was our first journey since lock down and it was good to be back on the rails.?

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We had reached Cordoba: a?ancient?settlement?laced,?like Moorish?patterns,?around the pewter, snaking Guadalquivir river. It was extremely hot and?the narrow cobbled alleys?hard on the soles of your feet. But the?gardens were?rilled?and chilled?with?lively ripples and people?smiled and set out to help?weary travellers,?just as they had for centuries?as the?city has long attracted the faithful and the curious.?

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It was a joy.?

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And a privilege.

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We were in the city to visit the?Mezquita, the famous world heritage mosque-cathedral. We had a sneak preview on the first evening,?after dark,?when we were guided round as the sun set and, as the bells clanked out,?the famous candied, coral and cream pillars and arches fell back from the lowering light, down into seemingly endless dark and ages.

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The site is huge and no pictures give any hint of the scale?and?the number of worshippers it was originally built to accommodate.?You can’t help wondering where they have gone?or if it is their echoes?whispering in the shadows.?The building?is jaw-dropping?and?moving and humbling in its history and size.?There is nowhere like it on earth.?

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In contrast we went on to visit El Escorial, another world heritage site and Philip II’s granite monolith to God, piety and an unforgiving, unrelenting grip on belief. The monastery palace was more mausoleum than mansion and felt?as if it?had been?carved out of?whole landscapes of?stone?for the dead and not the living.?The frescoes were fresh and bright but the over all sense was of something?hard and harsh; somber and sobering. I was awed?-?but not captivated.

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But both buildings get you thinking about your place in the?long, wide?stream of the world.?They demonstrate strength and continuity?- charting change and progress -?standing tall?through the tides?of time?-?where all lives are borne away and empires fall and rise.?They make you think of the monuments we leave behind?and the legacies?we?pay forward.

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Look around you! What tales will our walls tell?

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Will the world’s children?read?-?in our reminders?-?commerce, or conflict or care?

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Our walls?should?give us safety.?There have been high profile failures?and?each calls for change but, behind?every front door - from flat to majestic?castle?- we are mostly able to close our doors on the world. To shut out the noise and, sometimes, the cares.

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The?walls we build circumscribe home. From the borders of our nation states to the fences round our gardens we all chose a place to hang our hats. My walls are?moveable and?are not fixed. They are?in those I love: the family with which I’m blessed; and the others who are there through choice.

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Our?modern citadels are?now?more?often?shining towers to money?than our maker.?The glass and steel of?the City of London tower high by Christopher Wren’s St Paul’s?-?and?reminders of?long?supplanted?hot?presses and?writers’ ink surround the beauty of his?spired?St Brides in Fleet Street.?In every town new buildings?sit alongside the architecture of our past.?

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You are engaged in making history.

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That?is why we?need to build with care and maintain our defences with diligence and hard work.?And that is why I?do this job?because what APS does – and the community it represents,?matters. It matters now in the lives it saves. And it matters?for the future: in what we leave – and what we learn.

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Because?our works will outlive us.?

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Let us strive to be remembered by their worth.