Octagon

"A rock pile ceases to be a rock pile the moment a single man contemplates it, bearing within him the image of a cathedral."
Antoine de Saint-Exupery

And so to Ely cathedral, a visit prompted by the recollection of a childhood memory of comic book stuff, reading about Ely as an island centre of resistance against the Norman invaders. History now recalls Hereward the Wake as probably a Dane, not an Anglo-Saxon, so more of a Nimby than local folk hero. An island this place was until the seventeenth century, rising above the mists lying over the surrounding marshland and accessible only by boat until the area was drained, and so iconic and mysterious too. The roots of the cathedral date back to an abbey, founded in 673 by  Etheldreda, queen and abbess of Ely, around whose story the cathedral evolved; although the cathedral itself wasn't built until after the Norman invasion nearly four hundred years later. It's thought that building work to extend the cathedral community weakened the foundations, resulting in the catastrophic collapse of the central tower two hundred years later, necessitating a rethink of the tower structure and rebuilding in contemporary Gothic style over a period of about twenty years. The octagonal tower, the story goes, symbolises the eighth day, the time beyond our earthly seven day units. Alternatively they could have been early feng shui practitioners using the pah kwa. Either way it's a masterpiece of medieval engineering and still standing, although it's had a few facelifts and restorations over its' 900 year incarnation - still looking magnificent.

"There are 360 degrees, so why stick to one?"
Zaha Hadid