1.17pm on Monday 18th October 2010 marks the 70th anniversary of the bombing of the Deanery at Canterbury Cathedral, while Hewlett Johnson and his guests were at lunch. In his autobiography, Searching for Light, Johnson recalls the ‘sound of a bomb descending directly above us’, which gave enough warning for them all to take cover in the vaulted pantry. Johnson wrote:

‘There was a terrific crash, the walls rocked like a ship in a rough sea and settled again’

All of the occupants of the Deanery were unhurt, and the cook, Mrs. County, even rescued the pudding which had been left in the oven.

Bomb damage to the interior of the Deanery

While Hewlett’s recollection is tinged with humour, Nowell’s letter, dated the 19th October 1940, is saddened by the damage to ‘the poor old Deanery.’ Her letter of 27th October, partially written whilst listening to Myra Hess on the wireless, recalls the Deanery:

Our lovely lovely old Drawing room, the evening light, the soft drawn curtains, the lovely colours, all the exquisite beauty of it. And I can hardly believe it has gone.’

Despite this early damage to the Precincts, the Cathedral building itself was undamaged throughout the war, although the city of Canterbury sustained significant damage. Hewlett Johnson’s precautions of having the stained glass removed from the Cathedral, and a thick layer of earth over the quire to protect the crypt beneath, helped to keep the building fabric from harm. Of the Deanery, with all of its windows blown out,  Hewlett recalled ‘the winter gales and dust and dirt from the rubble blew through the shattered house for month after month’, but he remained in Canterbury throughout the war years.