After an abortive trip to Ayla's ceramics guy (she has an eye guy, a gold guy, bag guy, a silver guy, a carpet guy, and a late shoe guy), we wandered back along the Golden Horn stopping briefly at the Ecumenical Orthodox Patriarchate. Along the way we bumped into a hot and bothered young student called Rob from Oxford who tagged along for the ride.
Our friend Colin was reluctant to come in for fear of being struck down by the Lord's lightning but as we entered the jaw-dropping church there was a service in action. Sadly, the (disputed) centre of world Christian Orthodoxy had a congregation of just one middle-aged woman.
Just as we were about to leave this gilt eastern Vatican an older priest entered to take over the proceedings from the three younger priests who had been chanting and singing a plaintiff three part harmony. I smiled and nodded to the old vicar in due respect and he warmly smiled and nodded back.
"Do you know who that is?" Ayla asked me.
"Not a clue, my love."
It was, she pointed out, His All Holiness Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew I, 270th successor of the 2000 year old Orthodox patriarchy.
I just gave the Brighton eyebrow to the (sort of) Pope. Sweet.
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