Cornwall 3 – 10. Godolphin and Porthleven

Tags

Bal maiden, Bickford-Smith Institute, Common Hawker, Godolphin, Godolphin House, Mary Lanyon, Mary Schofield, Porthleven, Robert Organ, South-west Coast path

Thursday, 9th September was to be the high point – literally and figuratively – of my time in Cornwall, fulfilling a lifetime ambition. Two months previously I had booked a helicopter flight to the island of St Mary’s, on the Scillies. As I checked over its arrangements on the Wednesday evening, I had had a shock, which I should have anticipated, given the weather. All helicopter flights that day had been cancelled, because of fog both at Penzance and on the Scilly Isles. I was also beginning to worry seriously about what I would do there once arrived, given the forecast of about 80% rain on St Mary’s for much of Thursday.

However, having also checked my right to a full refund, when I woke up on the day I found myself really hoping the company would cancel, given that weather forecast. It was also very misty in Penzance.

Dead-on 9.00 the company called me. They weren’t yet cancelling but were running huge delays, so [since I was booked on a day trip, not going over to stay] they were offering me the choice of rebooking, free of penalty, or receiving a full refund. I accepted the latter, obviously, and felt hugely relieved, my disappointment having already been overcome the evening before. I would have to fly in a helicopter for the first (and probably only) time in my life on some other occasion.

What to do instead? I could have occupied myself in my room, knitting, reading, listening to the radio, but they didn’t seem like ideal holiday pass-times. I decided to take a risk with the weather (not forecast to be quite so bad on the mainland) and to go to Godolphin (National Trust), to spend time indoors in the large house there. It didn’t need pre-booking.

The surface of the sea in the harbour was like a mirror as I passed, but sadly it was not possible to stop to take a photo.

It turned out to me much less house than I thought, so it was as well that the weather also turned out to be much better than forecast. At the exit of the car park was a notice board suggested various walks in the wider estate, so I decided to start out on the orange walk before making for the house and its grounds.

But I turned back when it started to drizzle, not least because I wasn’t really properly shod or dressed for a damp, muddy walk. (The drizzle soon stopped, fortunately.)

Checking in to the charging part of the property, I was given a ticket for the house for 1 o’clock, an hour off. Coffee (studying the plan – yes, I like plans and maps),

and a wander round the more formal grounds filled in the time nicely.

The door behind the colonnade I would take at the start of the tour

(If only I knew enough to photoshop out that turquoise coat.)

Notice by one of the shippons (cowsheds)

I knew I had been to Godolphin House in 1973, (though I could remember almost nothing of the visit), with some of my non-participant helper colleagues on the International Musicians Seminar, so I was somewhat surprised to learn from the welcoming guide that the Trust only took the house over in 2000. I checked out with her – yes, the previous owner, painter Mary Schofield, née Lanyon, did show people round sometimes. My memory also told me that the house was bigger when I visited – the Wikipedia article says that it was once much larger, but does not say when it was reduced.

The guide explained that the house was only open for visits like this when it was not let out as a holiday ‘cottage’, details here. Going round the house I was reminded by its style how some of us had rented my local NT ‘cottage’ Lytes Cary, for music-making holidays in 2013 and 2014.

Linenfold panels

A kitchen fit for a 21st century letting

When I came to this final room, called the King’s Room I believe, I thought how wonderful it would be for music-making with friends. It displayed large paintings by West Country painter, Robert Organ, a friend of John Schofield, (Mary’s son presumably).

30 minutes and the house was thoroughly ‘done’. The exit from the one-way system was into the King’s Garden, where I sat for a few minutes, just enjoying the quiet, and contemplating what to do next.

I returned to my car, and asked my satnav what attractions there were in the vicinity. ‘Helston Railway ‘ it replied. Super! Take me there, James, I commanded. After a few minutes it led me to a firmly closed gateway to what appeared to be a private property. I could not get an internet signal to find out more about the attraction. OK, thought I, I’ll go to Helston itself (car and I were several miles away) and find out more.

With a signal in the Lidl customer car park on the outskirts of the town, I found out that Thursday was one of the three days each week the volunteer-run railway was, um, running, and that I had in fact been very near to it at those gates.

But they were miles back, through narrow country lanes, and time was rolling on, so no way was I returning. I decided instead to go to the coast, to Porthleven just 2 miles away. It was heaving with people, but fortunately I found somewhere to park right by the harbour, allowed just 30 minutes. Given the crowds, I reckoned that was all I’d want.

These photos reveal neither the great crowds of people nor the touristy souvenir and other shops trying to tempt them, apparently successfully. I walked firstly along the left hand quay.

The inner harbour

And the outer. I don’t think the paddle boarders are in any danger. Not from the cannon anyway.

Returning along that quay, I waited a while to clear this view, over my right shoulder, of as many people as possible.

‘Bal Maidens’ were those women and girls who broke up the metal ores, after their menfolk had mined them.

When I walked along the right-hand quay I was not tempted to take pictures, as the crowds were really heavily gathered there, around the many tourist shops and cafés. The road rose sharply, and I took this looking back.

Past the last houses there was path off to the left, and I found myself once more on the South-West Coast Path. Indeed, technically, I had been on it all the time.

Perhaps it was as well that there was nowhere to sit, because it was time to turn back and recover my car from its 30 minutes’ permitted time.

Female Common hawker, I think

My final picture was a zoom in on this building, which I have since discovered is the Bickford-Smith Institute, which opened in 1884 as a gift from a former MP.

I confess to having been 10 minutes late back to my car, but that is how long it took to be served with an ice cream. As can be seen from the photos, the sun was out when I arrived, but it had gone by then, and as I drove back to Penzance, there was sea mist rolling inland.

So many possibilities for Friday, my final full day: including a walk in the Lizard area; further exploration of the Tin (= north Penwith) Coast; the Penlee Art Gallery; or a drive well north to Lanhydrock (to follow up Captain Thomas Agar-Robartes MP, of the memorial hall in Luxulyan).

Cornwall 3 – 9. Ecclesiastica

Tags

Breage, Cornwall County Council, Hiberno-Saxon cross, John Miller, mediaeval wall paintings, Nine lessons and carols, Roman milestone, Royal Cornwall Museum Truro, St Breaca, Truro cathedral, Truro Museum

I may have made that word up.

Before going round the Truro museum, in the morning of Wednesday, 8th September, I had had a coffee (ordered by QR code!) in the café next door, and shared a table with a stranger visiting from Leicestershire. (Covid-wise, I managed to sit a good few feet away from her.) She asked me if I had yet visited the Cathedral, and I decided to do so in the afternoon. She in turn thanked me for various ideas she had gleaned from my own visits already done. We both said that there was so much to see in Cornwall that we would have to return to the county.

The rain had fully stopped by the time I left the museum, though the air was still very damp. It was only a short walk to the Cathedral.

I couldn’t take a view of its west front from further back because of this:

It was rather fun to watch. I think they were replacing old benches, and adding to seating capacity in the square.

Inside all was much quieter.

I particularly liked all the verticals of this aspect.

As well as the architecture, there were many objects of interest.

The origin of a 141-year-old tradition:

This is half of a beautiful piece of embroidery, but I could not see what its function was. It was about 2 ft/60 cm high, and presented behind glass at ground level in a side aisle.

This fantastic painting is explained below.

With commentary by the artist:

A backward look as I was about to leave.

After that, there was another church in my sights. One of the booklets I had been studying to prepare the Cornwall trip was an old one by the Archaeological Department of Cornwall County Council, but I had not yet been able to use any of its suggestions. However, the village of Breage could be on my way back to my BnB in Penzance with a little diversion. (Though I do wish I’d not relied on my satnav which, so helpful in finding me a car park in the morning, led me a totally unnecessary merry dance through single track lanes to get there. I should in this case have looked at my maps.)

The 15th century church of St Breaca‘s attractions, from the booklet, were a Roman milepost, which took a while to find, mediaeval wall paintings and a cross.

This sundial was over the entrance to the church. I took this photo as I went in. By the time I came out, there was a wan sun, but will as I did, it was never strong enough for me to check how well the dial was keeping time after 226 years.

John Miller, in the commentary to his painting in the cathedral, had referred to Cornwall as the land of the saints. Here is a reference to the local ones. Another panel gave a description of each.

At last I found the Roman (3rd century) milestone, tucked away in a corner.

Discerned by those who could read it was its abbreviated transcription of ‘the Emperor Caesar our lord Marcus Cassianus Latinius Postumus, pious, fortunate, august’.

The church was as wide as it was long,

as can be seen from this model.

There was an impressive list of every incumbent of the parish since 1219, and one before.

The cross, in the churchyard, is described as Hiberno-Saxon.

The next day was meant to be the peak experience, though I was having my doubts as to whether it would happen…

Cornwall 3 – 8. Truro Museum

Tags

beam engine, blister copper, Chalcedony, copper mining, Cornish language, Cornwall gold, directors' vehicle, Dolly Pentreath, fluorite, Fool's gold, Frank Brangwyn, goethite, iron pyrite, Philip Rashleigh, Roy Billingham, Royal Cornwall Museum Truro, Tetrahedrite, tin mining, Tony Foster, Trewinnard coach, Truro Museum, Vicar and Moses

Wednesday 8th September was one of my ‘un-pre-planned’ days, but my wishlist was long. High up it was the geology section of the Royal Cornwall Museum in Truro.  My knees, unaccustomed to so much strenuous walking over the previous few days, and which had much disturbed my sleep the night before, pushed it even further up. The weather forecast for the day cemented its new position.

St Michael’s Mount was nowhere to be seen as I drove along Penzance’s Western Promenade in the morning. Rain and/or heavy mist accompanied me to Truro, (as did much very slow traffic in the city itself). I was pleased that it was only a few minutes’ walk from the car park, (found courtesy of satnav), to the Museum. The main hall:

set out Cornwall’s history, and the very impressive and beautiful geology collection was in the first room off to the left.

But first there was a showcase of Cornwall gold.

Middle/Late Bronze Age arm ring

Gold lanula, Beaker period (2000-2300 BC)

Water-worn nugget, largest ever found in Cornwall, 1808. It’s about 5cm/2 in long.

I  have no idea how many of the world’s minerals were represented there. I  just enjoyed the visual feast. For real scholars it must be a treasure chest.

As you enter the room, there are firstly some paintings on the wall to your left. I found this one particularly striking.

Roy Billingham, ‘Wheal Maid, the Majesty of the Morn brings with it Hope.’ The painting was made in response to local grief as the falling price of tin made mining it unviable.

The title of this display cabinet is ‘Rocks and Minerals of the Lizard Peninsula’.

Vince had explained at the Levant Mine on Sunday how minerals separated out in a lode. This diagram shows how the various grades of copper settle out.

Tin smelting

Miners’ tools

I took dozens of photos. Here are just a few. (I have no specialist knowledge. When I did my Open University module on geology in 2007/8 it was the macro stuff that interested me most, and in any case, in one basic module, you don’t get much detail on individual minerals.)

Hopefully detail on labels can be seen by clicking, then clicking again, on photos.

(‘Fool’s gold’)

The museum also commemorated individual mineral collectors.

Chalcedony – theological associations?

This photo does not give fully replicate the rich purple colour of the ‘Blue’ John.

Blister copper, ‘partly purified copper with a blistered surface formed during smelting‘

Finally in this room there were models of a beam engine.

Moving on round the main hall:

I ‘did’ the rest of the Museum, with lesser or greater intensity,

Earliest surviving passenger rail vehicle in the world, dating from about 1810. It was used to transport the directors of the Poldrice to Portreath (horse-drawn) railway in Cornwall.

Trewinnard coach, c. 1700. An ‘obvious statement of wealth’ which took 15% of one family’s household expenses.

Not all the exhibits came from Cornwall.

‘Vicar and Moses [the clerk]’, Staffordshire, c 1760.

So Dolly Pentreath (see post on St Michael’s Mount) did not speak only Cornish…

I went upstairs.

and walked round a room whose theme I could not diagnose, but where I much enjoyed this painting,

‘Work’ by Frank Brangwyn, 1867-1956

and this piece of pottery, about which I have no details.

In a separate room was a temporary (to 24th December) exhibition called ‘Fragile Earth: Watercolour journeys into wild places’, featuring the paintings of Cornish painter, Tony Foster. He travels the world and comes back not just with paintings he has made, but mementoes of each location which he incorporates in each work. A little map,

samples of vegetation,

a twig,

models of what is harming the relevant environment,

or paintings of leaves and seeds.

The last wall of the museum downstairs marked more recent times, the 19th and 20th centuries.

A resined felt hat, such as shown us by Vince on Sunday.

So that was Wednesday morning.

Cornwall 3 – 7. Tremenheere Sculpture Gardens

Tags

Dolphin Penzance, James Turrell, Michael Chaikin, Michael Johnson, Penny Saunders, Penzance, Penzance Harbour, Peter Randall-Page, Philip Rae Scott, Phoenix masted brig, Phoenix square rig, Richard Long, Shelia Williams, Tremenheere, Vong Phaphanit

The signpost I had noticed on my way to St Michael’s Mount, on Tuesday 7th September, was for the Tremenheere Sculpture Gardens. I spent a happy hour-plus wandering around. There were several sculptures to be seen even before reaching the hard-to-find reception kiosk.

This colourful bench was by the ticket shed, the dappled sunlight adding to the effect.

Shelia Williams, ‘Winter Heliotrope’

More Cornish large lushness

Michael Johnson, ‘Wall of Taps’

A dragonfly pretending it’s not there.

You had to walk right into this sculpture, an oval room open to the sky, with an ante-room. It would appear that it was inspired by the sculptor’s Quaker background. I took this sitting on the ledge.

James Turrell, RA, ‘Tewlwolow Kernow’, twilight in Cornwall. Here’s a blog someone wrote about it after a visit when the sky was blue.

View from near the furthest point of the gardens. St Michael’s Mount can be seen peering over the shoulder of the trees.

Richard Long RA, ‘Tremenheere Line’

Philip Rae Scott, ‘Crypto-Synthesis’

These towered over me.

Peter Randall-Page RA, ‘Slip of the Lip’. The whole is about 2 metres across.

Vong Phaphanit, ‘Field of Rods’

Having finished my tour, I bought a hot chocolate from the snacks kiosk. I sat on the base of Michael Chaikin’s ‘Tree of Life’ and was mesmerised by Penny Saunders’s ‘Restless Temple’. The longer I watched it, the more I realised that it was not mechanically driven, and that its angle of drunkenness was entirely dependent on the strength of the breeze.

I heard a buzzard mewling.

And realised there was a second.

My last stop was at Penzance Harbour. I had by now driven past it thrice, and did not want to let the week pass without exploring it on foot. Combined with a visit to a Post Office for some stamps to put on three postcards I had bought on St Michael’s Mount, this was time efficiently spent, I felt!

It was this that really attracted me to the harbour.

Sadly, it was not possible to get really close, as there was another boat in the way. Men were working very hard on, apparently, restoring and adapting her.

But I was able to take a photo of his rather worn panel.

In her present state she would not be fit to star in anything. I’d have loved to find out more from the workers, but they were – probably deliberately – not lifting their heads, and in any case they were quite far away. I have managed to find out that she left Charleston, Cornwall, around two years ago, headed for Liverpool, and that she arrived in Penzance, probably to be her permanent home, in February of this year. I wonder where Portsmouth fits in.

The Dolphin is a favoured eating place.

As I returned to my car, I noted that the very inner part of the harbour is now a swimming pool at high tide,

and loved the action of a devoted father pulling his children around in the boat.

Another full day, and a happy return to Chiverton House. The weather forecast was not so good for the next day…

Cornwall 3 – 6. St Michael’s Mount

Tags

Black-backed gull, Cornish language, Dolly Pentreath, Giles, Little egret, Marazion, St Aubyn family, St Michael's Mount

It was time to cross another causeway. After all, it was nearly twelve weeks since I had driven across the one to Lindisfarne. But this time it was to be on foot.

For the first time this week, the view to St Michael’s Mount was clear as I set off along the Western Promenade in Penzance for Marazion and the causeway to the castle on Tuesday, 7th September. Booking ahead was imperative; entry would be denied without a pre-booked ticket. The attraction is run jointly by the National Trust and the St Aubyn family, who still own much of the island.

You are told to arrive at the gate of the castle at the time of your ticket, and to allow 15 minutes beforehand to cross the causeway, whether on foot when the tide is low enough, or by ferry. I was pleased to have allowed even more time than that, since the car park fee took time to pay, at one of those horribly complicated machines that wants to know all about you.

At the castle gate I appeared to get special, expedited, treatment. Was this because I was a National Trust member? Anyway, I was soon on my way to the visitor centre.

Sadly, it would not be possible to visit the gardens, which had closed for the season just a few days beforehand.

Then over to the wall for some views,

Black-backed gull

before starting the long, steep and difficult cobbled and/or stony upward trek to the ‘top’.

Nearly there

There were people at the ‘top’.

There were lots of people at the ‘top’, which proved not to be the top. It was at least 20 minutes before I was able to enter the castle, the queue was so long.

I amused myself looking for dolphins (unsuccessfully)

Nearly there

I also filled in the time reading about the castle on an app I had downloaded thanks to a QR code at the bottom of the steps. Annoyingly, that app is no longer on my phone. I suppose it’s possible that it could have auto-deleted as I left the premises, but, much more likely, I deleted it myself thinking I would have no more need of it, forgetting that it would be really useful in identifying my photos. My memory serves me poorly…

I do recall that this particularly appealed to me in a whole roomful of delightful drawings by Lady Catherine Someone.

“Pugilist”

The route led to an upper terrace

They’re still queuing down there on the lower terrace.

Despite the number of people there, the 15th century chapel, where a service is held every Sunday in the summer months, brought a sense of palpable calm.

I recall that the guide described this blue room as Strawberry Hill Gothic.

I could have spent a very long time in the maps room, and took photos of several of the exhibits. I limit myself to sharing just one of them.

In the same room was this cork sculpture of the island.

This is a portrait of Dolly Pentreath, said to have been the last person to have spoken only Cornish. (Though the next day was to moderate that claim in my mind – see two posts on in due course.)

At last there were no other people around for a short while, as I looked back along a corridor of pictures.

A room described as the Museum was closed for renovations, and the Garrison Room did not interest me too much. But a few more pictures towards the exit did. For colour and style…

… and for nostalgia: Giles, Vera and Gran!

View from exit of castle

When was looking, without success, to see if I could find any more detail about the castle’s contents on the internet, I came across this walk-through film lasting about 15 minutes.

The walk down the uneven path could have daunted me, but this time I had my walking pole with me. Without it, I would have found the descent a miserable experience. Once down, I was reminded that the ferry, which I was planning to take back for the sake of having a boat ride, would not be running until well after 2.00 pm, given the state of the tide.

Not really hungry after the very copious breakfast served by Alan and prepared by the unseen Sally at Chiverton House, (despite my taking neither sausage not bacon, nor any of the carbohydrate-packed offerings) I went to sit on the big lawn for a few minutes.

I usually try to avoid taking photos with people in them unless they are part of the story, but I think they add something here – others may disagree.

I was delighted to see a little egret on the near shore and zoomed in on it.

Having patronised the Island Shop, I then walked back to the car park. I saw no point in hanging on for more than hour just for the sake of having a short boat ride. The cobbles were not kind to sore feet,

so I cut off leftwards to take the hypotenuse back to my car. Sadly the ripple marks on the wet sand were almost as uncomfortable as the cobbles.

On the way to Marazion, I had noticed a signpost to an attraction I had added the evening before to my ever-increasing list of ‘Things I’d like to do’…

Cornwall 3 – 5. Trengwainton Garden

Tags

Bolitho, National Trust, slave trade, Trengwainton

Trengwainton Garden (National Trust) was my destination for the Monday afternoon, despite my very tired legs and feet. My plan was to have a gentle stroll around the gardens and then have a drink in the tea-room at the end. Sadly, the last part was thwarted, as the tea-room shut at 3.00 (staff shortage?). But the tea-tray in my room at my BnB was only minutes away.

The entry was at G below, right. I first explored the walled gardens, then went along the main avenue (gently ascending but not gently enough!) to the lawns by the main house, and returned via the woodland area with the stream running though it.

Proof of acid soil or what!

As everywhere I went in Cornwall, my impression was ‘lush and large’ with a dash of exoticism.

I wondered what this huge tree with red flowers could possibly be.

A close up with my camera revealed that it was a fuchsia.

And reaching its origins, I saw that the fuchsia was supported by a sequoia.

The house itself is still owned and lived in by the family that bought it in the 19th century, and a discreet rope keeps the public at bay.

I had been told at reception that the views from up here were ‘spectacular’. She didn’t know where I had been in the morning!

An original orientation table

What a shame!

There were several benches up by the lawns, but it took a while for one to be vacated, and how my legs were longing to sit down. Eventually I was able to rest on this bench. I’ve been unable to find anything about the coat of arms – but I have a plea out to the Fleur-de-Lys History Society by social media!

I was intrigued by the apparently perfect square shape of the hole in this trunk.

It turned out not to be a perfect square, and to contain some fascinating fungi.

Back through the tree ferns of the woodland area. I was reminded of my trip with a friend to Tasmania.

One final picture near the entrance.

When eating my huge sandwich at Perranuthnoe at lunchtime, I had been sitting on a bench, with a local woman at the other end. When I told her of my plan for the afternoon, she told me I would learn of the slavery connections of Trengwainton. I didn’t, but, local paper style, it is here. A more sober account, part of a very long description of the property, is by Historic England.

The coolness of the mainly shady gardens of Trengwainton had been most welcome, on the hottest day of my stay in Cornwall. The rest of the week remained largely dry, during the day, but at times was very misty.

I slept well that night.

Cornwall 3 – 1. Luxulyan

Tags

Agar-Robartes, Carmears, Cornwall, granite, leat, Luxulyan, red admiral, speckled wood, Treffry Viaduct

The last (and indeed only) time I had been in Penwith, the very tip of Cornwall, including Lands End, was way back in 1973. For some years now, I had harboured a desire to go back. I made it as far as north Cornwall in 2013, on a geology field trip, and for some years had been gathering together material on furthest Cornwall. So when, last January, I abandoned all thought of a wildlife holiday on the Continent, I booked a week in a BnB in Penzance. Already availability was low; I think many other retirees had the same thought as I had – grab the first week the schools are back.

On my journey down, the augurs were good. Just minutes from home, as I took Bella to the cattery (Tilly was left well provided for at home, as she is not vaccinated) as I drove through Meare there was a young woman walking along the pavement with a large owl on her arm! I was not quick enough to stop and take a photo, sadly.

Traffic down the M5 was heavy but rarely slow, and I arrived at my planned lunch and walk stop just before midday. One of the many bits of paper I had gathered was about the beautiful and interesting Luxulyan valley, in North Cornwall. As I pulled into the village, I had needed to find just two things: a loo and coffee, preferably in that order.

No difficulty in finding either. For the second, just yards/metres away from where I was able to park my car, was a Memorial Hall,

where a ‘Plant swap and butties’ event going on. (I was later to find out more about Captain Agar-Robartes, a local MP, who had been killed in 1915 while trying to rescue a wounded comrade, during WWI.) There they were very happy to serve me a coffee for £1.

I didn’t stay inside to drink it. The room was small and noisy, and a dozen apparent locals were sitting around, not a mask between them, and one of them was holding forth on political matters in an extremely loud voice. I sat outside on this rather beautiful bench, which took me straight back to my week in Huissen, singing with an international choir in commemoration of the Battle of Arnhem.

Three people passed by in the road, and two of them said hello. Friendly place, Luxulyan.

From my reading, I knew there was a beautiful walk along the valley, and was delighted to find a description of one in a ‘Short walks in Cornwall’ booklet I had just bought.

I set off,

and soon came across this well,

which pleased me for itself, and because it confirmed I had taken the right direction from the church.

The walk soon left the country lanes for footpaths through the woods, alongside leats for much of the time..

In due course I arrived at the Treffry Viaduct, wondering what it (had) carried. I now know that ‘firstly it carried the mine trucks over the valley and secondly it carried the water used to power the water wheel at Carmears. ‘

Overall, I don’t think I have ever said ‘Wow’ so frequently during a walk, not just for the viaduct, but also for the huge blocks of granite and the wonderful views…..

I had said to myself that I would stop to eat my sandwich at the first available place to sit after 1 pm. At 12.58 this came into view, the first bench I had seen (and indeed the last on this walk). I decided not to obsess over two 2 minutes!

The view as I ate.

Whwn I set off again, there were several temptations to wander off either side of the path but I resisted them.

The gap to the left where the 9-metre diameter water wheel had been was unmistakeable. It wound wagons up the incline

From here the water ran to drive it, a tiny trickle today. The Carmears incline was to haul crushed minerals up the slope.

Looking back at the furthest point, (I’ve come from the left and must return on the right) except that the instruction was to continue for a short while down to a bridge over the incline.

This was the turning point of the walk.

During my week in Cornwall I saw many, many butterflies, and perhaps 80 per cent of them were red admirals.

There were several ruined buildings on my route.

But this is the top of the wheel machinery.

Not only were stone sleeper supports visible all along the incline, but also the occasional rail support

and even rail.

But not every butterfly I saw was a Red admiral. Here a Speckled wood.

The walk continues to follow the track, as far as the viaduct.

‘At the end of the viaduct turn left and go up some wooden steps to enter a field.’

And then it all went wrong. I could find no wooden post at which to turn right. But I did find a stile and hoped it was the right one. It was, later confirmed. But I should not have been able to take these next three photos.

When I had what I reckoned from the map was about 20 minutes to go to get back to the church, I realised that something was wrong:  no longer did the terrain fit the description. I tried take a common sense approach, knowing that my car was north, (the sun was out) but it proved impossible. Long story short, it was with mixed feelings that I found myself back at the end of the viaduct, pleased to know exactly where I was, but unsure how not to make the same error again. I had literally gone round in a circle. I climbed the steps again, nervous of how to escape the vicious circle!

I took the stile again, and decided to ignore what I had previously taken to be a junction at which I was to turn right, and – phew – this worked. A much more obvious junction soon appeared, and all went smoothly from then on. I was very pleased to see this waymark, indicating, as I hoped, the church from which I had started off.

Interesting stiles in Cornwall…

The ice cream I bought at the village shop was well-deserved, I thought.

The M and S food hall on the outskirts of Hayle, 50 minutes away, was my next planned stop, and from there it was only 20 minutes or so to my BnB. Or should have been. Traffic was incredibly slow through the town, through which I was forced to take an unexpected diversion, for reasons which will become clear in my next post. I went out for a very short wander on foot around 7.30, but likewise the theme of that is more appropriate to my next post…

Cousins’ meet-up in Salisbury

Tags

Harnham, John Halle, Salisbury, Salisbury Cathedral, Salisbury cinema, Salisbury Guildhall

Several months ago, my cousin Geoff, who lives in the States with his American wife, Nicole, and their three children, booked flights for the pair of them and their youngest, Sophie, to visit the UK. They got nail-bitingly close to not being able to come, (their flights were refundable) but just a few days earlier, the UK government had lifted the requirement that double-vaccinated people must go into 10 days’ quarantine. We all met, including Geoff’s mum, Barbara, in Salisbury on Monday, 9th August.

In fact we met up at the Wilton Park and Ride, and took the bus into the centre of the city. It was the first time I had been on public transport for a very long time. (Thank you, Somerset County Council, for rushing my new bus pass to me!) It was pleasing to see that nearly everyone on the bus was wearing a face covering.

Not knowing Salisbury well, I was not sure where we were when we got off the bus, and in our efforts to orientate ourselves we came across a pub, the George and Dragon, with an outdoors seating area, where we took first coffee and then some lunch.

Sophie, me, Nicole, B(arbara), Geoff

Having orientated ourselves, we then set off on a walk I had printed from somewhere on the internet some years back but never done. It started in the Market Place, at the Guildhall, which houses some services of the Salisbury City Council (strictly a parish council, the lowest rung of local government, Wiltshire Council being the unitary authority for the area). I failed to get a photo of the outside of the Guildhall.

Part of the Market Place

Some rooms in the Guildhall are open for visits, in addition to being available to hire for events.

The Banqueting Hall

The Oak Court

The Grand Jury Room

Looking down on the Foyer

In the foyer. Was this ever used as a fireplace? We couldn’t see where a chimney might have gone.

In the Crown Court.

The giant basting spoon above was made for the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria in 1897. Description of the artefacts in the Guildhall is here.

We walked on. The Haunch of Venison is said to be haunted by a resident ghost, the Grey Lady. The Poultry Cross is is the last remaining element of the market established in 1227. There were crosses for several trades and and goods.

The black and white building is the hall of a 15th century wool merchant called John Halle.

Why is there a camera in a 15th century hall? Because the building is now a cinema!

Up the pedestrianised High Street and to the North Gate to Salisbury Cathedral. Here Nicole and Sophie left us, and Nicole was able to render her phone useable in the UK.

We didn’t go into the Cathedral, but walked round the Cloister. (My visit in July 2017 is recorded here.)

The walk then took us to more rural areas, to the adjacent village of Harnham

One of the UK’s many Rivers Avon.

At one point there was a ten-minute walk along a busy road, where to add insult to injury it started raining. Thank goodness we had brollies with us.

In due course we were able to turn off the main road, and arrived at the Old Mill, from which we walked across the Water Meadows on the Town Path. It was still raining.

Geoff in yellow and Barbara under large umbrella.

From thence it was a short walk, brollies lowered, across the Elizabeth Gardens to Crane Street, and into the town centre again.

I’ve not been able to discover what this rather lovely building was, but it may now be the offices of a building consultancy. Later, a friend living in Salisbury tells me:  The last photo is of Church House, Crane Street. Built around 1455, in 1634 it became the City Workhouse until 1881 when it was bought by the Diocese of Salisbury as their HQ – which it still is. Very fine timbered medieval hall – complete with working Parliament Clock of 1797 (so-called because Wm. Pitt imposed a tax of 5/- pa on clocks, so communal clocks multiplied but law rescinded after nine months! Then as now, politicians do daft things!)

We three returned to the Market Place where in due course met with the two, partaking variously of tea and cake before taking the Park and Ride bus back to our cars.

A lovely day.

Mendip Hospital – people

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Dr Robert Boyd, Friends of Mendip Hospital Cemetery, Mary Ann Norman, Mendip Hospital, Morag Hervey, Somerset and Bath Pauper Lunatic Asylum, Well Mental Hospital

I am somewhat behind with my blog posts, so here is just a brief account of, in effect, Part 3 of the trilogy on this hospital, which I visited – now converted into luxury dwellings – on Christmas Day last year, and whose cemetery I visited a few weeks ago. This third part concerns the Wells Museum exhibition, now over, but due to open at the Wells Bishop’s Palace shortly, about the inmates/patients/residents, whom I shall henceforth refer to as residents.

Most of the exhibits were principally typed text, not ideal for a blog intended mainly for photographs, nor indeed for the visitor. I do hope the Friends of the Mendip Hospital Cemetery , whose work goes so much further than just the cemetery, will find the means of putting it all online. It is all on members’ computers, and just needs someone with the know-how to be found (and probably paid for) to convert it into a web site. The material is fascinating.

Doctor Robert Boyd was the first Resident Physician and Superintendent of what opened as the Somerset and Bath Pauper Lunatic Asylum, became the Wells Mental Hospital, and ended up being called the Mendip Hospital.

When I read this I was reminded how Covid-19 had prevented me, since February 2020, from making my monthly visits to a local nursing home to sing bygone popular songs to the residents.

Once photography came in, an image was taken of very resident on arrival.

There were many, many accounts of individuals. It would be good to be able to sit down and read more of them at leisure, each one a story to be told.

The following photos are of various members of staff and their families.

I did read the whole of this large panel, a very sad tale of Mary Ann Norman, 1833-1913, a homeless woman living on the streets, on prostitution, and on drink, in and out of of both Shepton Mallet Prison and the Asylum. No-one wanted to know her then, but we can give her attention now.

A talk given by Dr Morag Hervey in 2000 on the history of the hospital is here.

It is so good that the Friends of the Cemetery are not just maintaining the grounds but reviving the stories of the residents of the hospital itself.

The Newt in Somerset – July 2021 (2) The Story of Gardening

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Hadspen HOuse, Penelope Hobhouse, The Newt in Somerset, The Story of Gardening

The celebrated garden writer and designer, Penelope Hobhouse, (b. 1929), at one time married into the family and having had a great influence on the restoration of Hadspen House’s gardens in the 1960s, wrote a book called ‘The Story of Gardening‘. Was it in tribute to her, in ignorance, or for some other reason that the museum in the grounds of what is now called The Newt in Somerset bears the same name?

Last Friday, my friend Mary and I, as part of our visit to The Newt (see previous post), spent the best part of an hour looking round this museum. Its external setting is well described here. Inside it consists, on the left-hand side, of a long, very wide corridor, with a wall of tools and including central island exhibits, and on the right-hand side a series of nine rooms, with a further, much narrower corridor, fully glazed, beyond them on the right, so that you have access to the rooms from both sides.

When you arrive you are given an audioguide, for one ear only. It works on the same principle as a satnav/GPS system, except that it’s a Building Positioning System. It knows where you are and offers you various options to learn more, relevant to that very point, referenced by the little numbered trowel indicators that are discreetly everywhere. If you listened to all of them you’d be there for hours, and I fully intend to do just that (well, perhaps not all of them) before too long.

Here are some of the pictures I took, in order. You start in the entrance hall, and we missed the commentary on the short initial film because we hadn’t quite twigged at the very outset, despite being told by reception, how the audioguide worked.

The first room is behind the green ‘hedge’

The first island is about various soils.

There were inserts like this outside every room

The (his)story started with classical times,

and moved through the time and geography.

This island was about scent. In normal times you would put your nose up to the cone, and squeeze the puffer. I didn’t try it, and my assumption in any case was that it would not be in operation in present circumstances.

This island was about animals.

Great gardeners were celebrated.

This island, the theme of which was ‘colour’ was a real curiosity. This is roughly how the human eye saw it, all the time.

But as I was taking my eye away from the viewfinder of my camera, which showed the picture I had just taken, I noticed that the image captured was this:

So I took another…

And another…

Only on my fourth essay did my camera faithfully reflect what my eye saw, and shown first here. I expect there’s some scientific explanation about white light being made up of the spectrum of colours, but I’m intrigued.

The last area in the museum concerned modern gardens and gardening, and featured what is going on in Singapore a lot.

It was time to return to the entrance, taking the long, wide corridor, passing its islands on the left this time.

I shall return – and spend a lot more time there!