Thank You… God?

I live in a flat right by a Canterbury tourist attraction: a medieval gateway that’s the largest of its kind in the country. It’s a frequent stop for guided tours of the city. I work from home and, as such, get to hear a lot of facts about the gateway as the guides talk to their groups.

One summer, I have the window wide open when I hear this.

Guide: “And this gateway was paid for by a man called…”

He dries up, leaving an awkward pause. I decide to help the poor guy out and yell out of my window:

Me: “Simon Sudbury, 1380!”

He looked around, surprised, trying to work out where my voice was coming from. He didn’t look up and see me, however. After a pause, he called out, “Thanks!” and continued with the rest of his spiel.

As a volunteer tour guide elsewhere in Canterbury, I know what it’s like to suddenly forget a name in a speech you’ve done hundreds of times. I just hope the poor man wasn’t too confused by the “helpful ghost” and got the rest of his tour done smoothly!