The Newt in Somerset, Roman Villa – August 2022

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dovecot, gourd, Hadspen House, Karen Roos, Koos Bekker, Roman Villa, The Farmyard, The Newt in Somerset, Villa Ventorum, Wyvern

Time for another visit to The Newt in Somerset. I’d done the Cyder [sic] Tour there a month previous, and had come away with samples. I’d then taken the opportunity to walk down to have a quick look at the exterior of the new Roman Villa Experience (they’re all ‘experiences’ these days, aren’t they?) and back along a vast new area that the enterprise had opened up.

A few days ago, I met Mary off her – delayed – train at Castle Cary station. Arrived at The Newt, we started with the obligatory coffee, and did a bit of setting the world to rights – it’s a big job these days.

This merged seamlessly into lunch.

We were booked in to the Roman Villa for 3p.m., so set off an hour earlier to make our way there via the newly opened area. This involved setting off from the pergola and its many different members of the gourd family.

Going ‘the long way round’ it was about a mile to the Villa, but there was plenty to entertain us on the way, including The Grotto with its Wyvern. The difference between a dragon and a wyvern?

First of all, dragons have four legs, while wyverns have only two. Their front legs are fused to their wings, so they cannot move their wings as easily as dragons. Dragons are also a lot larger than wyverns, and they are believed to be the most powerful creatures in the world. Indeed, it’s very impressive: dragons are very hard to kill and, unless they are killed, they will live for thousands of years.

Still, wyverns, who are considered to be one of the breeds of dragons, can’t be called harmless in any way. Though smaller, easier to attack, and with fewer powers, wyverns can move around a lot faster than dragons, thus making them a big advantage. So, you can never underestimate a wyvern: due to the fact that it’s so swift, it might attack and kill even more efficiently and effectively than a dragon.

When I’d visited in July I had heeded the advice below. I really am too literal-minded – children were actually being encouraged to be disobedient, when they would have had a flaming surprise!

Sadly, by the time of this visit, the Wyvern had no head – some children had been too violent. Safety, electric wires and all that, had led the management to remove it entirely. (It is to be replaced.) But here’s a picture I had taken of it on my previous visit.

We moved on, and were amused by these parallel sheep, all moving towards our right.

Even on my first visit to The Newt, in January 2020, I had seen, in the inaccessible distance and from another angle, what looked like a dovecot. Now we were able not only to approach it but to go inside.

Through the, evidently unglazed, windows, were several views, including this one of the Roman Villa for which we were heading.

Reception and the museum

The Newt’s website said to allow 90 to 120 minutes for the tour of museum and villa. Reception said not to linger too long in the former, as the house alone would need at least an hour to be appreciated. We only had two hours before they would close – and we had ordered Roman food for the end.

We were issued with GPS-guided headphones. In the museum, one pressed a lit ring by an exhibit to learn more. In the house, commentary was stimulated by proximity to any given area. I love audioguides – but there is a huge disadvantage in that you have to rely on your memory a few days later … So there are many lacunas now …

The reconstructed Roman villa is by the site of a real one, burnt down in the 4th century, and first re-discovered in the 19th. Part of it is incorporated into the museum and part of it has been returned to the ground.

More historical information is here and here. The latest archaeological excavations took place after Koos Bekker, the South African billionaire owner of The Newt in Somerset, had acquired the property in 2013.

I was frustrated not to be able to tell which exhibits were originals and which reproductions. (But these surely were all the latter.) Only on examining some of my pictures have I realised – I think – that there were symbols by the captions which would have told me. (Next time – which is soon.)

The villa, seen from the museum

This was the spa/bathing area.

These light fittings are made up of small shards found on the site.

From the games exhibits

Part of the food and cooking exhibit

More time would have allowed a more in depth perusal of the exhibits, (and outside the holidays would have perhaps avoided some rather noisy children, but they were having enormous fun). We moved on to the villa, through vineyard and orchard.

We were welcomed to the ‘Villa Ventorum’ by Diana, in Roman dress. She explained that this room is the furthest most visitors would have been allowed, a place where business transactions would have taken place. From then on our visit was led by the audioguides.

They told us the route to take. There were no stewards, no barriers, no ‘do not touch’s (though our headphone commentary made that polite request) and no – conspicuous anyway – CCTV. And I should mention that the visit is entirely free once entry to The Newt is paid, either by annual membership, or as a guest of a member.

I wondered whether a 21st century person had modelled for this portrait. Indeed, could it be Karen Roos, joint owner of The Newt?

Recognisably the British Isles, though Scotland’s round the bend.

No detail has been missed in the development. The Villa has only been open to the public for a couple of months. My assumption would be therefore that this scorched effect has been added artificially.

We met this cheery fellow in the peaceful rear garden.

A child’s bedroom, and a child’s collection

Parents’ bedroom, and parents’ jewellery

The ‘bibliotheca’ was always in a mess, we were told through our headphones.

The route from Villa Ventorum to London and beyond

Next, to the linked music and entertaining rooms

I cannot imagine how one could eat recumbent, propped up on one arm.

Round to the front of the villa again, and down to the lower courtyard to be served our Roman street food.

This young man told us that the stall was totally authentic, apart from the stainless steel serving pots. We each had what could be described in modern terms as a vegetarian wrap – containing broad beans, asparagus, coriander and a few other lovely things – delicious. I had cider with mine and Mary a sort of cold mulled red wine, the name of which I couldn’t retain.

View from the room in which we ate

We walked back the direct way to the hub of The Newt, still about a kilometre, wondering whether we would see any of the deer.

We certainly did, and they seemed, untypically, to be herded to an area which was inaccessible to the public (possibly because the rutting season is coming up?).

I had never seen so many of them together.

This beech tree fell during Storm Eunice on 18th February this year. As the panel beside it says, it is being left there to become a home for fungi, beetles, and bugs, and, in due course, to become compost. Such shallow roots for such a tall tree!

We had some time before Mary’s train back to London, and, since all refreshment facilities had by now closed, we sat for a short while on a conveniently placed bench, with Newt Lake and the young apple orchards ahead of us, and Hadspen House, the Long Walk and the kitchen garden at 2 o’clock.

In due course we made our way back to the car park.

Just yesterday, when a friend called to offer me some plums from her garden, I was telling her about the Villa. We have arranged to go together in about a month’s time, when I will hope to fill in some of those lacunas, and indeed to observe more.

Footnote: Never – £500, £600, £700 and rising per night! – will I be in a position to take photographs of those parts of The Newt reserved to guests in its hotels, Hadspen House and The Farmyard. But here is a short article by those involved in the interior design, which will show a little of how the Other Half lives!

Cornwall 2022 – 9. A long, open-top bus ride

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Canada goose, copper mine, Land's End Coaster, Little egret, Museum of Global Communications, Mute swan, Newlyn, Porthcurno, Rat Race 2022, samphire, Sennen Cove, shelduck, St IVes, St Just, St Michael's Mount, The Gurnard's Head, The Old Quay House, Tin mine

Saturday 2nd July. When I woke up, my knees reminded me that they had made quite an effort the previous day, perhaps the Frenchman’s Creek walk, or maybe the Minack Theatre steps, most likely a combination of both. So, a late breakfast, some photos,

The swan

The gang (of Canada geese)

Little egret

and a very early lunch in the restaurant of the place I was staying, the Old Quay House. Good old fish and chips. Very early because I had decided to rest my legs today, and after lunch to take a circular bus ride on the hop-on hop-off Land’s End Coaster, an hourly service.

Here’s a tourist map of the far tip of Cornwall that I was given during my 2021 holiday in Penzance.

The Hayle estuary and St Erth, where I got on the bus, are half way down, over on the right. I chose to take the anticlockwise route, which went northwards to St Ives, along the north coast westward towards Geevor, southward to St Just, then continued south, diverting to Sennen Cove, back to the main road, and out to Land’s End and back, then down, and on another detour, to Porthcurno (the home of the Minack Theatre, though the bus necessarily turned back before that), inland to St Buryan, across to Newlyn, then to Penzance, Marazion (St Michael’s Mount), and northeast back to my starting point. The bus ride would take four hours. It takes 15 minutes to get to Penzance from Hayle, where I was staying, by car.

I sat upstairs in the open-air part of the bus. It was very blowy – and for most of the time, especially along the north coast, and as the previous evening, I wished I had more clothing with me. People got on and off at regular intervals. I think I was the only person not using the bus as a means of getting from A to B. And I was able to use my senior’s bus pass.

Photo just for the record. The holiday village was in fact much nearer to where I was staying that to the town of St Ives.

St Ives harbour

Wesleyan chapel turned theatre

The beginning of the blustery conditions, along the north coast. Most people sat in the sheltered front part of the top, or downstairs.

The Gurnard’s Head hotel

Evidence of former mining

The cows won

St Just

A Land’s End Coaster from the other direction. These two passed fairly easily, but there were other encounters which were much more tricky on the narrow Cornish roads (though of course, it’s the vehicles which have got wider). Usually we won by sheer size, but once we had to back up for quite a distance. No doubt the drivers are well used to it.

Sennen Cove

Many people got off at Land’s End, and many got on.

I was not the only one who had been intrigued, as we neared Land’s End, by the banners,’Rat Race’. I took this photo as we passed on the way back up the road. I think it may have been this, the location of the start of a run from Land’s End to John O’Groats, though children were running races on site as we went by.

I had been intrigued also, the evening before on the way to Minack, by this Museum of Global Communications at Porthcurno. Definitely something to visit next time I’m in Cornwall.

Turning back on to the main road from the coastal dead end

Newlyn Harbour

St Michael’s Mount, from Penzance

I took no more photos from then in, Penzance, through Marazion and back to St Erth/Hayle.

Back at my lovely patio for the evening, the tide was well out.

It was samphire, I think, that flourished in the twice-daily washed mud.

The swan with its adopted family of shelduck

One full day in Cornwall left. And no, I didn’t see my friendly gull this day.

Cornwall 2022 – 7. St Ives, Pt 2

Tags

Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden, Black-headed gull, Canada goose, cormorant, Cornish Heavy Cake, curlew, Herring gull, Mute swan, Porth Kidney Sands, Porthmeor Beach, Salubrious Place, shelduck, St IVes, St Ives Museum, Tate St Ives, Teetotal Street, The Old Quay House

Back on Terra Firma, I wandered around, casually making for the St Ives Museum.

This was the only photo I took, the entrance, as photography inside was not allowed. This made me rather grumpy, but I couldn’t help enjoying the really old-fashioned, crammed displays, of all lost life and livings in St Ives and indeed Cornwall. But sorry, no photos.

On my reluctant way back to the seafront, where the hordes were gathered, and this wasn’t even the height of the holiday season,

I couldn’t help noticing these street names.

I picked up two little pots of seafood, and a huge Cornish Heavy cake, which I consumed before leaving the crowds, and then made for the Barbara Hepworth Museum and Sculpture Garden. Before you get into the garden itself, there is a small indoors display.

From the garden, you can see Hepworth’s workshop.

I hadn’t really registered too much the ‘Garden’ bit beforehand, but on remarking this to an attendant, I was told that the planting was exactly as Hepworth had planned, as was – mostly – the positioning of the sculptures. Nor had I been too sure that I would like the latter, but I really, really did.

I enjoyed looking at them from different angles: such as this,

and this:

There remained Tate St Ives, but not my stamina. Two exhibitions were enough for one day. But I did want to see the front of the building, so walked round to Porthmeor Beach, which I had seen from the sea in the morning. I also had the idea that it could be a relatively quiet place to have a cup of tea.

From the fourth floor café, which was not as quiet as I had hoped as the floors were polished stone and the staff were clattering dishes, I could admire the view. I realised later that there were quieter areas with seaward views. Never mind, the lemon grass and ginger tea was excellent, from fresh ingredients, not from a tea bag.

The curvy architectural theme is maintained.

Down at street level, I could see that the beach, and even more the sea, was well occupied. There seemed to be a surfing lesson going on.

Time to trudge (uphill mainly) to the railway station for my shuttle back. This time the carriages were crowded. It wasn’t that everyone was staying in St Erth or Hayle, it was that St Erth station car park is officially a park and ride facility for all those coming from near and far for those visiting not only St Ives, but also Penzance.

My scenic ride back picked up not only Porth Kidney Sands at the mouth of the Hayle estuary, but also, as I zoomed the camera, The Old Quay House, and particularly my room, with its private patio.

The Canada goose family and Herring gulls.

Time for a little more bird-watching, or rather -gazing. Most of these were some way away.

Curlew

Cormorant, crow and Herring gulls

Very distant Canada geese, the family not among them

I recognise that look, on my roof! He didn’t hang around this time though.

Curlew taxiing for take-off

The swan with its apparently favoured company, shelduck

And a couple, much nearer, of Black-headed gulls

Minack Theatre tomorrow. What else?

Cornwall 2022 – 5. Tresco Abbey Gardens

Tags

Cornwall, Echium candicans, red squirrel, St Nicholas Priory, The Tresco Children, Tresco, Tresco Abbey Gardens, Valhalla Museum

Wednesday 29th June, part 2. Very shortly after starting to explore the Tresco Abbey Gardens, by which time the threat of rain had lifted, and having had the obligatory and necessary coffee, I was absolutely delighted to see a red squirrel – and then another. I had no idea they were on the Isles of Scilly.

Here are just a few of the over 100 photos I took on my way round the very extensive gardens.

Mixed planting in the kitchen garden

I had now been in the gardens perhaps an hour, totally absorbed in what I was seeing. But at this point I looked up and saw the sea in the distance. I came to, and suddenly remembered where I was. It was a strange feeling, coming back to space and time.

Plenty of seating available

This was almost all that remained of the Benedictine St Nicholas Priory, built probably in the 12th century. It is thought likely that the priory fell into disuse because of pirate pressure and desecration in the late 15th century, rather than being abandoned because of the Reformation half a century later. The locals continued to use the area as a graveyard.

‘The Tresco Children’ by David Wynne, 1990

My peregrination had brought me back near the entrance. Whether these were the same two squirrels, I could not know, but as they played they rushed past me, apparently oblivious of my presence .

In the grounds, part of the Valhalla Museum collection of ships’ figureheads

As I went back to the cafe at the entrance for a something to eat, I couldn’t resist taking another photo of the creature (was it the same?) that had greeted me earlier on.

Also at the entrance there was a small exhibition on the history of the Gardens.

Cornwall voted Leave in 2016

Guess who visited while I was consuming my soup…

Resuming my exploration of the gardens, I was pleased to see these Echium candicans, ‘Pride of Madeira’. I had bought the T-shirt when on that island. The flowerhead is about one-and-a-half times the size of a lupin head and much more dense.

The sun had been out for some time now, and I was sitting contemplating this area (the following three pictures) when it occurred to me that it would be a shame to see nothing more of the island while I was there.

So I made my way to the exit,

then turned back past the heliport, to the nearest beach. The sun had gone in now, and the breeze, from which the gardens shelter their visitors, was quite fierce. I saw no attraction in hanging around there,

so retraced my steps, past the entrance to the gardens this time, making for a round lake I could see on my map, hoping to be able to get close to it.

‘The Tresco Children’ from the outside

Sadly, I could get no closer to the lake than this, despite walking all the way round its extensive perimeter.

In due course, I was back at the heliport, but on the wrong side.

As I said in my previous post, I saw the previous flight come in and take off. Once the barrier was lifted, it was safe for me to cross to reception.

The following day – St Ives.

‘The World of Stonehenge’

Tags

Avalon Mrshes, British Museum, grave goods, Jacquetta Hawkes, Nebra Sky Disc, Stonehenge, Sweet Track

People (including me) call it ‘The Stonehenge Exhibition’, but the display at the British Museum is not on Stonehenge, but about the world in which it was created. I visited it with my London friend, Mary, last Friday. (My previous post is on the Jubilee-riddled London I encountered then.)

Mary had visited the very comprehensive exhibition twice before, so went ahead to pay more attention to later exhibits. I learned from this and did not spend ages on each item, flitting somewhat. My eye – and particularly my camera – was disproportionately attracted to shiny objects. As ever, this is just a small selection of photos I took.

“This scratched wood found near a camp of tents surrounded by woodland suggests the threatening presence of bears.”

I was thrilled to find this. The Sweet Track, named after the person who found it when ditch cleaning in 1970, is buried on the Avalon Marshes, near to my home. It has been dated by dendrochronology to precisely 3807-3806 BC, and is preserved by the peat bogs. I have seen reproductions and imaginary pictures of it, but never a section of the real thing. I could find no suggestion that this was not part of the original …

This exhibit, using a moving light show, showed both the structure and the finished object (see header picture) of the oxen pulling the cart and cart itself. The original, excavated in Germany, was lifted as a single object to preserve the archaeological evidence.

Grave goods, sculpted in chalk, from a child’s tomb, 5000 years ago, Yorkshire

“400 carved stone balls are known, mainly from eastern Scotland.”

The motifs on this one, from Aberdeenshire, “connect it to distant Irish tombs, pots from feasts around Stonehenge, and designs inscribed on the walls of houses in Orkney”. The balls are all about 7cm/2.5 inches in diameter.

Alpine valley of Valcamonica in Italy, about 4,500 years ago. “These designs reflect new attitudes to gender, economic and agricultural productivity, and conflict.”

Belt plates found on the stomachs of Scandinavian women in their graves, 1400 BC. Denmark.

Cape worn by a woman, perhaps a leader, a priestess of even perhaps considered to be a divinity. Mold Flintshire, 1900-1600 BC

The celebrated Nebra Sky Disc, symbol of the exhibition. An offering, but too valuable in terms of the knowledge it contained, to be buried with any one individual. Saxony-Anhalt, Germany, c 1600 BC.

“Calenders of the Cosmos?” inscribed with symbols, worn as hats, France and Germany, 1600-1200 BC. (There are in fact just two hats here.)

Found in a grave 30 km from Stonehenge, symbol of a sun cult, “the cruciform motif may represent the four arms of light seen at sunrise and sunset.” 2400-2200 BC.

Neckpiece found in a Shannongrove bog, County Limerick, Republic of Ireland. 800-700 BC

“Pilgrims or Pioneers?”

Jet buttons or fasteners, Borders, Scotland, 2200 – 1900 BC

Astonishing preservation of some bear skin

These tiny gold pins, almost invisible to the naked eye, were attached to a dagger pommel, using techniques seen in Brittany and Mycenaean Greece.

Grave good found in Clandon Barrow, Dorset, 80 km southwest of Stonehenge, 1950-1550 BC

“This astonishing cauldron was riveted from sheets of bronze and was repaired numerous times. With a capacity of about 70 litres it could boil enough meat to feed a sizeable gathering of friends or potential foes.” Battersea, London, 800-600 BC

Cast to the sky before it sank into a pool. “This offering was a hard sacrifice perhaps made to confront uncertainties in a period of major environmental and social change.” Shropshire, 800 BC

Sun pendant, gold and lead, Co. Kildare, Republic of Ireland, 1000-800 BC

A final comment at the end of the exhibition, which is on until 17th July 2022:

(This article explains a little more to the background to her remark. “[A 1967] article surveyed the discussion of Stonehenge as an observatory: she believed that it was not, that its significance was ritualistic and religious, and that attempts to see it as a scientific construct were as much a product of the present time as the ideas of other ages about Stonehenge were of theirs.”)

A day-long holiday in Bath

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Alkmaar Garden, Anne Boleyn, Ariadne auf Naxos, Bath, Bath Abbey, Bath Forum, Bristol Beacon, Great Pulteney Street, Hans Holbein, Henry VIII, Holburne Museum, Katherine of Aragon, London Symphony Orchestra, Mary Queen of Scots, Metropolitan Opera, Parade Garden, Penfol pillar box, Pulteney Bridge, River avon, Roman Baths, Simon Rattle, Sir Philip Sidney, Sir William Holburne, Theatre Royal Bath, Tudors passion power and politics

I was ridiculously excited on Sunday, feeling as if I were going on holiday the following day, not just out for a few hours in a beautiful city. I had clear plans and was slightly worried that I would be disappointed as I drove home, so much I was looking forward to living them. But no, all worked out perfectly. (Except that I took far too many photos and have had great difficulty in cutting down their number.)

Actually, it wasn’t even a full day. I left home at 1 o’clock, after an early lunch, and drove trouble-free to the Odd Down Park and Ride in Bath. In the few minutes I had to wait for a bus, I browsed the map in the shelter.

As we drew near to the turn-round point near Bath Spa station, from my upstairs front seat I snapped the car park I planned to use later. (I thought my evening activity might well end too late for the last bus back to Odd Down.)

Conscious that the evening’s entertainment was to be at a venue nearby, I recce’d as I got off the bus, and there it was, the Forum.

I made my way northwards, and slightly east.

The Abbey, the Roman Baths, and a restaurant

Round the back of the Abbey, there are no more crowds. On the right, the small Alkmaar Garden, celebrating the friendship between Bath and Alkmaar, liberated on 5th May 1945.

Behind me was Parade Garden of and from which I took the next few photos.

Bath is quite proud of its floral competition success!

Back up from the garden, a better view of the celebrated Pulteney Bridge over the River Avon.

I used it to cross over the river, and looked back having done so, but you can’t tell that you are actually on a bridge.

I arrived at Laura Place, and could see the length of Great Pulteney Street, with the Holburne Museum, my destination, at the end.

A ‘VR’ pillar box, with sadly the key letters in shade. This is a Penfold pillar box, a model cast between 1866 and 1879. (You can buy one for £1200, though I imagine it is a modern reproduction.)

I arrived at the Holburne Museum. Yes, I know. It’s part of one of their exhibitions called ‘Old Ghosts‘ which ‘invites visitors to engage with and challenge the perceived notions of power and authority that sit at the heart of many museum collections’ So now you know.

But it was not that exhibition which I was there to see. I was visiting ‘The Tudors: Passion, Power & Politics’. A small room, with not many pictures – all portraits, I think, on loan from the National Portrait Gallery – and probably all the better for that. The room was fairly dark, and my camera makes these selected photos look brighter than my eyes saw them, but not brighter than they really are.

Henry VIII, aged about 30, and Katherine of Aragon. Both painted around 1630 and both by unknown artists.

Henry VIII of course, about 17 years later, after Hans Holbein

Anne Boleyn – I failed to note the artist. Now, does the expression on those pursed lips not remind of the same on a certain present-day female British politician?

Sir Philip Sidney, described as the ideal Renaissance courtier. Unidentified artist, c 1576.

Elizabeth I, the ‘Darnley’ portrait, c. 1575. Reds have faded over the years, ‘making the queen appear paler than originally intended’.

Mary, Queen of Scots, 1578, after Nicholas Hilliard.

Elizabeth I, one of the ‘Armada’ portraits, c. 1588

It had not taken me long to go round the exhibition, which had portraits also of Henry VII, Edward VI, Mary I and Lady Jane Grey, the other wives, and other contemporary politicians, courtiers and explorers. I had a brief look around this room

with exhibits by staff volunteers and visitors to the museum, including

I had not visited the Holburne Museum before. It is centred on the vast collection amassed by Sir William Holburne (1793-1874) and left to the City of Bath on his death. I visited all the other rooms, briefly, and realised I could not do them justice in the time and energy I had available.

On the way, pictures along the stairs caught my eye for various reasons.

The Dead Soldier, Joseph Wright, c.1789. I could not help thinking of all the mothers and children, Ukrainian and Russian, grieving their husbands and fathers right now.

Garton Orme at the Spinet, Jonathan Richardson the Elder, c. 1707-8. The young man ‘failed to live up to the charm of this early portrait. He is said to have murdered his wife, incurred considerable debts, and sold half the family property.’

Still Life with Fruit and Shellfish, Cornelis Bryer, fl. 1634-1671. Here just because I liked it.

In another room I saw more Old Ghosts, but there were interesting things on the walls and in cabinets also.

I was particularly pleased by this ‘Marriage of Bacchus and Ariadne’ by Pierre-Jacques Cazes, (1676-1754). Two days previously I had seen at my local cinema, livestreamed from the Met(ropolitan Opera, New York), Richard Strauss’s ‘Ariadne auf Naxos‘. The libretto ends with the meeting and falling in love of the pair, after Ariadne has been abandoned on the island by her former lover, Theseus. This painting ends the story nicely.

Incidentally, I had been impressed that, as the camera panned round the Met’s audience, every single person was wearing a mask – it is presumably the law still in the USA. Not only that, all members of the orchestra did as well, except those playing wind instruments. I was in a small minority of visitors in the museum wearing one – a trusty FFP3 mask. And at the cinema where I had seen the livestream. No wonder, as I read, cases are going down in the States and rising sharply here.

A volunteer insisted that I look at this ‘gruesome’ dish. As I learned, when I mentioned my interest in the previous picture, that he had heard the same livestream on Radio 3 on the Saturday, I indulged him.

The Beheading of John the Baptist, French, probably Fontainebleau, between 1580 and 1620.

Tripartite bell salt, English silver-gilt, 1613-14.

Pieta, Italian, Patanazzi workshop, 1580-1600, (An inkstand!)

Meissen, lady’s chamberpot

From now on I just wandered without noting what things were. The next room was the most spectacular, and really needs revisiting to do justice to all its contents. These were Holburne’s treasures.

It was time for the coffee and cake I had promised myself, to fill in the time until the museum closed at 5 o’clock. And then a gentle walk back, a longer way round, to the bus stop for the Park and Ride.

As I retuned over Pulteney Bridge, I thought it no wonder that the shop was closing down, if it relied on sales of fly-fishing dogs.

On my longer way back, I saw these in quick succession. Hardly surprising in a city known for its healing waters.

This however was the name of a different kind of watering – or rather eating – place.

I arrived at the Theatre Royal, and was disappointed to find that its street level was marred by works. (Note, not so much the gull in the air and on the edge, but the rather more ferocious birds at the windows on the right.)

My longer way round took me to a less eye-pleasing area, but the old industrial building on the other side of the Avon was interesting – zooming in shows that it is now converted into flats, including a no doubt very prized and pricey penthouse apartment.

On the bus, I again had an upstairs front seat.

A packed meal waited me in my car. Rather than try to be imaginative as to where I could eat it, consuming it in my car in the Park and Ride car park, watching the sun go down through the trees, seemed as practical as any.

I arrived back in the Forum, a converted cinema, in very good time. The concert I was to attend was under the auspices of the Bristol Beacon, the new name of the former Colston Hall, and currently closed for ‘transformation’, except for its foyer which remains open for smaller scale events.

After a quick drink in the rather crowded entrance area, I went into the hall as soon as I could, perused the (free!) programme, and admired all the art deco work. I had selected a seat which I hoped would be fairly well away from the most popular area, and was pleased that it had remained so after later bookings.

Members of the London Symphony Orchestra made their way in gradually. (Like the Met’s orchestra, they were masked except for wind players – and unlike two-thirds of the audience.) I had not heard this orchestra live since I left London in 1975. I wondered if any of them were in the orchestra then. And I realised that most of them hadn’t even been born at that time!

And the maestro came in. Sir Simon Rattle, whom I had never seen in the flesh. The programme gives a fairly conventional biography. But I remember when he hit the musical scene back in the 70s, aged barely 20, a se most attractive young man with a huge talent, and clearly going places!

A most enjoyable concert, which was livestreamed, and can be for a month , to care homes throughout the UK: Hannah Kendall, ‘The Spark Catchers’ (which was sparky but not spiky); Dvorak, ‘American Suite; and Schumann, Symphony No 2, of which I particularly liked the third movement.

I was home by 10.00. A lovely day’s holiday.

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 – 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 – 3. Levant Tin Mine and Beam Engine

Tags

Bal maiden, Beaker people, Geevor mine, Levant Beam engine, Levant mine, Miners' dry, National Trust, South-west Coast path

The National Trust tour I had pre-booked for the Sunday afternoon of my Cornwall holiday was of the Levant Mine and Beam Engine, in the St Just area on the north coast of the Penwith peninsula. As requested by the Trust, because of the earlier start of the Tour of Britain, I had allowed plenty of time to get there, and, also at their request, parked not at the Mine itself but a 20-minute walk away at Geevor mine, open to the public, but not NT property.

It was a very grey day, with rain threatening all the time.

As I had thought, the Tour of Britain had no impact on access, having passed surely three hours previously – but thank you, National Trust, for having alerted me to it! I had therefore, even allowing for the walk to Levant, some 30 minutes in hand, so I wandered around the desolate landscape for some while.

I was surprised to see how little nature had taken over from the abandoned terrain, but later learned that Geevor had only closed in 1991.

My first, but not last, sight of the South West Coast Path, here going north-east. But I had to go south-west and make my way to the Levant Mine.

The name of this valley is Trewellard Bottoms.

Arsenic processing buildings

L to R: Compressor house chimney, Stamps chimney and Arsenic chimney

Vince was our volunteer guide, a geology teacher of both aspiring mining engineers and of A level students. (In reply to a question from me, he said that the future’s in lithium, indium and gallium apparently, although the first two are running out, especially indium, essential for our touch screens to work, and that will be all mined out by 2030.) From his style, I would guess that Vince is an excellent and passionate teacher.

He gave us full and fascinating explanations, and was also a mine (sorry) of historical anecdotes. I was very conscious that I would manage to hang on to very little of what he said, which is perhaps fortunate, since this post would be very long if so. But I do recall that he said that mining in this area had started some 4500 years ago. Beaker people from Switzerland had brought the skills here, but it was not known how they had acquired those skills. Here is a full account of mining in Cornwall and Devon.

The only piece of 20th century equipment in the mine, which closed in 1930.

So much more protective than a modern geologist’s plastic helmet, this miner’s hat is made of felt and rendered rock solid with resin.

Vince explained about lodes and the way their valuable constituents separated themselves out, into tin, copper, arsenic and silver, and how they went for miles out to sea.

The turquoise reveals the continued presence of copper.

The picture shows a pony being lowered into the mine. It would then live there for four years before being brought up, gradually accustomed to the light, and put out to pasture. Apparently the conditions the law insisted on for ponies were much better than those it prescribed for miners.

The tools used by bal maidens to break up the rocks. Their conditions were even worse than those of the men down the mines.

After a while, Vince took us to the beam engine, and handed us over to Peter, the engineer, who explained how steam was raised and worked the engine. For various reasons I was able to follow little, and just concentrated on the sheer beauty of the thing, and loved seeing it set in motion.

Entrance to the Beam engine house

The beam from the top.

What the wheel turned. I was just outside in time to see them in action.

Looking back on the various buildings

Ahead was the Miners’ Dry. a huge room where the miners dried out at the end of a shift. But before that, Vince explained why some parts of the land were so dangerous.

When a shaft was closed, it was just covered with wooden boards which were grown over and just rotted in due course. Tread on one of those areas and…

In its heyday this was the Miners’ Dry:

Just the floor remains now, with the Compressor house chimney beyond.

Next and last we descended to the start of the the man engine shaft. The man engine was an ingenious but very dangerous mechanism for lowering the miners to their working areas. It broke in 1919, killing 31 people, after which mining the lowest levels was abandoned.

Botallack mine (also National Trust, though not part of this tour) was just a kilometre further down the coast. I was shattered, and had a 15-minute climb back to the car park ahead of me, so I decided I would not join a couple who were planning to visit, but returned to my car tired, but very happy, at the end of two excellent days.

I had planned nothing yet for the Monday, but had lots of competing ideas.

Cousins’ meet-up in Somerset

Tags

Charlemagne, Covid, Eden Project, Hadspen House, Tesremosnitweneht, The Newt in Somerset, The Story of Gardening

The Newt in Somerset, to be precise. I hadn’t seen my cousin Mary, who lives in Croydon, for several years, so her love of gardens and gardening, along with the fact that I had a garment to hand over that I had knitted for her, gave the perfect pretext for us to get together last Friday, 20th August, in one of my favourite local places.

South West Trains brought her in perfectly on time to Templecombe Station, which is about 15 minutes’ drive from The Newt (also served by GWR to Castle Cary, just five minutes’ away). We started with the obligatory coffee, bought from the Cyder Bar, and studied the plan of the grounds.

By then, we had just 30 minutes or so before our lunch reservation at the Garden Café, and Mary opted to visit The Parabola, which features hundreds of varieties of apples, and I suggested that the kitchen garden would nicely fill the rest of the time.

(I covet Mary’s bag, which she told me she found in a charity shop.)

Not only apples are grown in The Parabola, so named for its shape.

To get to the kitchen garden, you go past the huge wildflower area,

and through a tunnel, which I’ve seen develop from not there, to there but plantless, to supporting small nameless plants,

to producing many different varieties of gourds.

The kitchen garden goes in for a lot of companion planting.

The view from our lunch table, showing well the parabolic shape

It was time to make our way to The Story of Gardening. No time to wait for this deer to lift its head.

We could have just walked down the slope to the entrance, but instead went the slightly longer way round on the slightly vibrating walkway,

from which we saw these deer.

I think this selection of photographs does not too much replicate the visit I made with my friend Mary four weeks previously!

We are not holding mobile phones, but the gadget with its white aerial, which knew exactly where we were and therefore which commentaries to offer us, and from which we could choose using the little shovel-shaped labels.

Interactive panels about famous gardeners abounded. Who knew that Charlemagne was among them?

Mary was very envious of the Victorians for their greenhouses.

I have a booking for the Eden Project in three weeks’ time.

Four weeks ago, I assumed that these smell horns would not (because of Covid) be working. This time they certainly were.

On the long Tool Wall, I was attracted to these many balls of string, all apparently made by the same company.

It was time to move back to real plants, mainly flowers, once we had visited the cactus house.

The Cottage Garden

The Victorian Fragrance Garden

Mary pointed out toxic Monk’s Hood to me.

Part of the White Garden, near to the Red and Blue Gardens

The beginning of The Cascade

Hadspen House, now a luxury hotel

The view from the same spot 180 degrees round. The far pool retains its historic name of the Bathing Pool, though I think paddling would be all it enables, now anyway.

The Fowl House, within the Lower Egg

Back through The Parabola,

where Mary got the joke before I did.

After a visit to the farm shop, where we bought freshly ground coffee, and bottles of the pink cyder of which we had been given small samples at lunch, we made our way to the Cyder Bar, where we enjoyed glasses of The Newt’s delicious chilled fresh lemonade.

A final look round the tropical greenhouse, and it was time to take Mary to my place, from where her brother (a third first cousin – I only have five! – met within 11 days!) picked her up from her to spend the night of his and his partner’s house.