The Glastonbury Way, Part 1

Tags

Ackidock, Glastonbury, Glastonbury Thorn, Glastonbury Tor, Glastonbury Town Council, Glastonbury Way, Joseph of Arimathea, Mendip District Council, Morland, Pomparles Bridge, River Brue, Royal Bank of Scotland, Somerset and Dorset Railway, Somerset Rivers Authority, St Bride, Towns Deal, Wearyall Hill, Who'd a Thought It, Zigzag Building

Not meaning the way Glastonians do things, (that’s way beyond my comprehension!) but a waymarked walking route created a few months ago, with finance from the Towns Deal, and expert contributions from Glastonbury Town Council, Mendip District Council, (soon to be abolished, as Somerset County Council becomes unitary) and a host of volunteers.

My friend Zoe and I have done it in two parts as our first Friday walks in September and November, and I thought I would write the two walks up in consecutive posts. (It was Zoe’s turn to organise our October walk.)

The Way starts at the information office in the centre of town, but it suited us to start from my house on the edge, and to pick it up somewhat before Point 2. (The Way’s Facebook page of the Way is headed by a map. There are two sets of numbers, mostly coinciding but not always. I think the alternative set is something to do with the ‘mystical’ side of Glastonbury, which does tend to escape me. My references are to those preceded by ‘B’,which I think stands for ‘board’.)

As it happens, we walked back to my house after lunch past the official starting point at the Information Centre, and here is Board 1. A plan of the walk is bottom left, and that day we did (most of) the western circuit.

The walk is described in some detail in an app, (‘The Glastonbury Way’) which also gives all the information supplied on the boards, in writing and aurally.

We joined the Way at Wearyall Hill, (sometimes written as Wirral). The origins of the name are unknown, possibly coming from the legend that Joseph of Arimathea came to Glastonbury bearing the chalice used at the Last Supper. He is said to have arrived by boat (Glastonbury then being an island, or perhaps a peninsula, in the middle of marshy, swampy land) and, weary, he planted his staff in the ground, which became the famous Glastonbury Thorn, of which a sprig is given to the monarch on Christmas Day to decorate her breakfast table.

Looking back over right shoulder to the town. The towers of St John’s Church and St Benedict’s Church, and the Abbey ruins can just about be made out.

Looking directly back, to the Tor and, somewhere in there, where I live

Looking right, due north, to a small retail park

At the end of the ridge which is Wearyall Hill we came to Board 3.

At useful, and usually rather scenic, points along the Way there are welcome seats.

Down from Wearyall Hill, you can still see the Moors (aka Somerset Levels), the fairly recently opened Premier Inn to the right, and on the left the old Morland (‘Bauhaus’) factory, now known locally as the Zigzag building, which is in the process of renovation and new purposes.

Some features on the Way have been around for a long time.

We then took:

though it’s not even straight.

Pomparles Bridge crosses the very busy main road linking Glastonbury to Street, It’s name is a mutation of Pons Perilis, assumed to mean bridge of peril, (though if it does, it must be a mediaeval abbreviation of the classical latin word, ‘periculis’.) The app tells us that ‘Its name is related to Siege Perilous, the seat at King Arthur’s Round Table kept for the knight destined to find the Holy Grail but fatal for any other occupant.’

The River Brue was incredibly low that September day. I have never even seen the grasses above water level, let alone laid down like this.

Nor have I seen elsewhere any sign saying in effect ‘beware of the badger works’! This was after we had crossed the busy road at, fortunately, a lights-controlled pedestrian crossing.

‘Bride (pronounced ‘Breed’) was one of the most widely worshipped goddesses in Celtic Britain.’ Archaeology shows that there was a small chapel on the site of Bride’s Mound, and also a cemetery dating from Romano-British times. 12th and 4th century writings say that St Brigid of Kildare visited Glastonbury in 488 AD, and spent some time here.

At this point we were following the river bank, and theoretically we should have been able to follow signs right, across to Bride’s Mound, subsequently retracing our steps, but we couldn’t find those signs. Pity, because in 10 years, I have not yet seen the Mound.

It was extraordinary to see the banks of the Brue so deep, due to lack of water. Water levels across the entire Somerset Moors and Levels are incredibly closely managed by the Somerset Rivers Authority.

Came a point where we were a little perplexed as to where to go, as there appeared to be a kink which did not appear on the plan. But we trusted to the waymarks and all was well.

Now a footpath, this bridge once carried the single-track Somerset and Dorset railway line over the river. It is known locally as ‘Ackidock’, from the aqueduct that was also here once.

I know nothing about this, nor does the app/board say anything. On enlarging to a maximum, I can just read, centre-left top, ‘The Royal Bank of Scotland’, which also appears once more in the otherwise illegible text. Please add a comment if you can enlighten.

Willow Walk is well-named.

A lovely spot for a picnic lunch we thought – though we were planning to eat at a pub.

The explanation for the creation of the pleasant spot however was sad.

It was perfectly possible to read Board 8 – but impossible to take a photo of it in its entirety.

We shortly came into a light industrial area, and as we neared the centre of town, we cut a little away from the Way’s official route, to make more directly for our lunch place. We passed my doctors’ surgery.

And ended up at the ‘Who’d a Thought It’, just off the Market Place, where we had a good lunch, and also a discussion with the innocent waitress as to whether it was really necessary to wrap our cutlery and paper napkin in horrid little plastic ties, single use to boot. (I will get around to that Glastonbury Mural Trail some time.)

The walk back to my house took us through the Market Square. The official route, in effect starting part 2, would have taken us up the High Street, off right in this photo. I have blogged on that previously.

To be continued.

A walk under lightening clouds

Tags

Glastonbury, Glastonbury Tor, Millfield Prep, Ponters Ball, River Brue, sheep, Somerset Levels, Somerset Moors and Levels, swan

Yesterday was the second of my resumed monthly walks with my friend Zoe, though sadly the pub lunch at the end will not resume until next month – hopefully. We started from my house, and followed a route I had done once before, many years ago, but which I had not felt able to do more recently as I didn’t want to venture alone along that part of the route which lines the River Brue. It is now populated with somewhat scruffy residential caravans, past which I would not wish to go alone. There were many more caravans than shown here.

The walk was a little longer than planned, as what we did for a time clearly did not fit with what was on the OS map. I had had no problem with this when I had previously done the walk. Perhaps we were just chatting too much. I think I know now what went wrong, and am tempted to go and check it out sometime, but…

The walk was on a very local patch of the Somerset Moors, a.k.a. the Somerset Levels, though technically those are off to the west, bounded roughly by the M5 motorway. Over the centuries from Roman times they have been progressively drained, turning from marshes into pastureland. (The Draining of the Somerset Levels, by Michael Williams is fascinating on the subject.) They abound in ditches and rhynes (pronounced ‘reens’) and if you can help it you don’t set off across a field unless you know for sure that you will not be cut off at the other side by a water course too wide to leap across. (Moors, levels, rhynes explained here.)

The River Brue, canalised in mediaeval times. Note the patched road. We saw many fresh patches like this along the way.

A much enlarged clip from the above picture will show how the local authority is meeting the obligation placed on it by the government to provide sanitation for the caravan dwellers during the pandemic, as part of its campaign to get the homeless off the streets. This is to end after 17th May.

Glastonbury Tor accompanied us throughout.

Having passed this caravan I turned round to take a photo of the mattress lying among the branches of the tree, and the solar panel.

No wonder the road patches had seemed fresh!

Difficult not to stop and watch little lambkins. West Pennard Hill in the background.

When we caught sight of this swan it was way off, but when it caught sight of us it swam purposefully in our direction.

And swam purposefully away from us once it saw we had nothing to give it.

It was around here that we started to suspect we weren’t quite sure that we were where we thought we were. Still, it’s a nice bridge, of sorts.

We stood looking at this flock for quite a long time. After all, we had to make sure that each of the four lambs dispersing from playing together managed to find its right mother.

It this point I thought we were on Ponters Ball, a local earthwork of unknown age and purpose. Glastonbury is, in effect a peninsula, surround by Moors, formerly marshes. This earthwork marks the fourth, non watery, side of the peninsula. The earthwork did not particularly impress Zoe, who had not heard of it before I drew it to her attention as we made our arrangements.

In any case, I was wrong. This was Ponters Ball, reached ten minutes later. Looking southwards,

and here northwards. Zoe was a little more impressed. And from here on we knew exactly where we were.

Some furry creature has come to a sad end, at the hands – or more probably claws of a feathery creature

We were well and truly on the homeward stretch now, here entering the grounds of Millfield Preparatory School.

Tennis practice. And we also saw equestrian practice, but were too close for comfortable photography … and the battery of my phone – I had not bothered with my camera as I didn’t expect to take any photos – was running out.

Just enough juice to take one last picture of the Tor.

A walk from and then into town

Tags

Bristol Water, Chalice Hill, Covid-19, Frome Bus, Glastonbury, Glastonbury Abbey, Glastonbury churches, Glastonbury Community Fridge, Glastonbury Information Centre, Glastonbury Mural Trail, Glastonbury Tor, MG, Morrison's, Poldens, Squirrel

Yes, that way round. Yesterday morning I had to take my car to the garage for its MoT. I was not looking forward to the walk back. Only 15 minutes, but at 8.15 it was cold and damp, with that chill that gets into your bones, as they say. So I took my camera with me, which made the walk pass more pleasantly, even though it also made it last 5 minutes longer.

They called me at lunchtime to say the car was ready, and I decided to take my camera with me again as I walked back to the garage, in case I regretted not doing so. I would have done.

The garage has a very small showroom for second-hand cars. This MG reminded me of the Midget I used to drive in the mid-1970s.

I looked up towards St Benedict’s.

But didn’t go that way, turning off right into a cul-de sac. ‘That reminds me – I must put my recycling out when I get home.’ The houses in the distance are on Wearyall Hill.

The panel says ‘Keep out. This area is liable to flood’. The squirrel was unconcerned.

Across Morrisons’ car park next.

Sign of the times 1

From the car park I could see the top of the RC St Mary’s church, and its hall, which I know now has a lift and, it appears, perhaps a new roof as well.

Faced with the first of many inclines where I live. That feature was something I considered hard when deciding whether or not to move here ten years ago.

Many businesses round here use the word ‘Avalon’ or ‘Tor’ in their trade names.

A pretty corner on a very busy and noisy road.

The next incline, and the Globe Inn next to the park on the right.

I haven’t walked alongside the park for a very long time. I’m sure this wasn’t here before. But perhaps the whole tree was.

When I drove to the garage at 8.15, I noticed how little traffic there was. 20 minutes later certainly not the case. A misty Chalice Hill in the background.

At the top of these steps is…

… a small green space.

But I’m walking downhill now.

Fortunately I don’t need to turn left.

Sign of the times 2

Instead I’m going to walk up a path between the houses.

Another reminder that it’s recycling day.

A once-in-two-hours chance to see the little bus which goes along the principal road through the estate.

As I walk through it, I have had various glimpses of the very misty moors, the Polden Hills beyond having totally disappeared.

Chalice Hill can be made out.

But much of Glastonbury Tor, including its tower at the top, cannot.

Because I have my camera in my hand, I take three photos in my garden.

The frog spawn is nicely turning from dots into commas.

And these ridiculous primroses have been flowering, though not this floriferously, since October.

As I set off to collect the car in the early afternoon, I was pleased to find that the chill damp had gone, (though it was still very cold), and that the tower had returned to the top of the Tor.

The Bristol Water people were still hard at work. I should try to join a gang like this to find out why it is that ‘work’ so often consists of just standing around.

What goes up must go down if you’re walking in the opposite direction.

The swings in the park were in use.

And the bird had not budged as I took a closer look. Ah, so it’s made of wood, not metal.

I took a more interesting route for the last part back to the garage, and had glimpses of the Abbey.

Seeing this mural on the side of the Globe Inn …

… and its signature, gave me an idea for a possible future blog or two. I found later that there are 26 murals on the trail.

I believe this water flows from Chalice Hill.

And that it used to be the source for the Pump Room on the other side of the road in its short life as such.

Now I could see the Abbey’s octagonal kitchen.

The citation on this plaque – the lost adult glove gives an idea of its size – says: “PRESENTED TO THE PUBLIC BY J HRY BURGESS ESQ RESIDENT SURGEON IN THIS TOWN 50 YEARS AND DURING HIS SIXTH MAYORALTY 1864…1865” And what is it decorating? Very appropriate for a surgeon – public conveniences, still, in ‘normal’ times, in use.

From a car park, an even better view of part of the Abbey. And another idea for a future blog.

I knew there was a Glastonbury community ‘fridge’ (not limited to chilled foodstuff) but not where it was, next to the Town Hall. (I am going out very, very little these days!)

A near deserted market square

This time I go past St Benedict’s church and the Mitre Inn.

And, very close by, The King Arthur.

Finally, a pretty row of houses opposite the entrance to the garage.

My car had passed its MoT with flying colours – but then it had only done 2000 miles in the last 12 months, and much of that was done in the two weeks before lockdown, as I drove to and from Gatwick Airport for my trip to Morocco, of blessed memory.

Possibly the least interesting blog ever

Tags

Coronavirus, Covid-19, Glastonbury, Minor Injury Unit, Street, Vaccine, West Mendip Hospital

Going out just once a fortnight for my Click and Collect shopping and any other essential bits and pieces, there hasn’t been much to blog about since Christmas. How I long for restrictions to be lifted and to visit a garden or some such!

But I did have an extra outing yesterday, late afternoon Friday. I went for my first Covid-19 vaccination at the local Minor Injury Unit, the West Mendip Hospital, a few minutes’ drive away in north Glastonbury. My doctors’ surgery had called me three days previously and gave me not only this appointment, but that for my second jab, 12 weeks forward – to the very minute. (Then on Thursday I received a letter from the NHS inviting me to book an appointed online, to be ignored if I was already fixed up.)

I thought people might object to my taking photos, but not at all. The atmosphere was great, the many volunteers all very cheerful, and the one professional I met, a nurse from a surgery in Street, likewise.

First Philip

told me where to park, a task taken up a few yards on by Rob.

Then this lady, whose name I didn’t get, directed my reversing into the very nearest spot to the hospital entrance.

She told me I could go straight in. (Twelve days earlier a neighbour had had to park a long way away and was told to wait in the car until she was collected, and that they were running 15 minutes behind.)

I had arrived early deliberately because I had unrelated business with the normal hospital reception. This lady told me to explain that to the specially set-up desk.

I did so, had my hands sanitised, carried out my task, and returning to that special desk took this photo.

I was given a form and directed along this corridor This cheery gentleman is not blocking but welcoming me!

He made sure I turned right, and that I went along a corridor, where there was a row of about ten socially distanced chairs. My neighbour had had to sit on the nearest, and gradually move up, a chair at a time, each chair being sanitised after each movement. (The organiser in me would have done that bit differently, but in my case only the first (= furthest away) was occupied, and I sat on the second.)

I had just started reading the form,

when Nurse Emma came up to me and invited me into her cubicle.

She went through the form with me, and left the cubicle for a few seconds.

I’m kicking myself for not taking a photo of her actually drawing the vaccine from the vial when she came back, but I was too engrossed in asking her how much liquid she was going to put into me. The answer was 0.3 millilitres. ‘Is that all?’ I said, thinking of Tony Hancock in a reverse situation.

Having done the necessary (another photo-op missed) she gave me a very detailed leaflet, from which I later learned that I had been given COVID-19 mRNA Vaccine BNT 162b2. I left a box of chocolates with her, and she directed me to a waiting area, where I restored my left arm’s clothing, and took this photo. All were (unsurprisingly) intrigued as to why I would want such a thing, but they gave their permission.

15 minutes later I was on my way out.

This lot at the entrance insisted (well, it was the man on the right again) that for completeness’ sake I should record them as I left in both directions,

and that was that.

Today the top of my arm is quite sore but not at all red, and that tells me that the antibodies are getting on with their work nicely. In 11 weeks and 6 days’ time, to the minute, I shall, all being well, be back there again.

Permitted walk 3

Tags

Brue, Buzzard, Clyce Hole, Clyse Hole, Environment Agency, Glastonbury, Glastonbury Abbey, Glastonbury Tor, Hungerford, Joseph of Arimathea, Kennet and Avon Canal, peacock butterfly, Polden Hills, Pomparles Bridge, Prunella Scales, rhyne, Roger Norrington, Street, Street Church, Strode Theatre, Timothy West, Wearyall Hill

My Sunday was nice.

First thing, the Microsoft system reminded me of a photo I had taken 15 years previously, to the day. I posted it on Facebook, with the following text.

“The Kennet and Avon Canal about a mile from Hungerford, where I had left my car. Living in France at the time, I was there to visit a bench I had sponsored in memory of my parents who had loved the canal, and had, little by little, walked it end to end. What I didn’t know as I took this photo was that the couple in the left hand boat were Timothy West and Prunella Scales, and that the former had just jiggered his ankle slipping down a damp grassy bank. Five minutes later I was steering the right hand boat, the owners of which were helping the Wests run their own boat.

“Once we had all arrived at Hungerford, the couple, Prunella having secured the boat, transferred to my car, and I drove them to the Royal Berkshire Hospital in Reading. They were much more interested in talking about me than themselves, and it emerged that the night before they had dined with the Norringtons. Roger had been a major influence on me musically decades earlier.” And here’s the photo:

I went out for a much longer walk than previously in the afternoon. I had realised that a busy road near me, which could get me to the River Brue, should not be so busy in the present circumstances. I often forget to put a watch on, but didn’t this time – and found that it was still showing Greenwich Mean Time, three weeks on from the clocks going forward.

I live on a modern estate on the edge of the Somerset Levels. Looking right as I walked out of it, along a cul-de-sac Wearyall Hill is to be seen. Traditionally Joseph of Arimathea planted his staff here.

The River Brue used to run where the road serving the estate now runs. But over the centuries, the watercourse has been much modified, through drainage of marshy ground and pragmatic straightening. Near me, the river is almost entirely canalised, work done in the thirteenth century by the monks of Glastonbury Abbey. Here I have crossed the road, and into a field, and looking back I don’t think I had ever previously noticed just how splendid some of the trees now lining the road are.

I’m shortly at the ‘busy’ road which will take me down to the Brue, and yet again I’m envious of those living in houses up on Wearyall Hill for the lovely view they have across the Moors.

I turn left, and see what they can see, the Polden Hills in the distance.

The busy road dips to begin with, and sometimes in winter it is flooded, so closed. It is only at about 7 metres above sea level here, although some 20 miles or so inland, and if rainwater cannot drain towards the sea, because the land is so waterlogged and the many water courses too full, it just stays here. (By the way, while I had thought the road would be empty of traffic, and indeed it is empty in his photo, it was in fact quite busy, though not to the extent that I felt unsafe.)

These, to my left, on a field which is frequently flooded, reminded me of the 17th century (or earlier) song, ‘The Three Ravens’, though these are crows.

Ahead, the embankment which contains the canalised Brue,

and the road has to rise steeply at Cow Bridge.

I go over Cow Bridge and turn right, off the road. Others had had the same idea, but it was just about possible to keep the appropriate distances.

To my left a rhyne (pronounced ‘reen’), with the which the landscape is riddled for miles around. Landowners are obliged to keep them maintained so that water may flow freely.

Cows to my right,

and sheep to my left.

I arrive at Clyce Hole measuring station,

or is it Clyse Hole? The Environment Agency doesn’t seem to know, though the OS map and the EA flood warning website seem to favour the latter. The water level is low, so the weir is impressive.

It is a popular wild swimming spot, and there were several families there, swimming, paddling, sunbathing…

After this point, I met no-one else on this side of the river, though there were people – and dogs! – out for their walks on the other side, (though not in this picture).

Peacock butterfly

Ah. I hadn’t thought about stiles, and touching them. Hm. Should have brought my surgical spirit spray, (I have no hand gel) especially as I keep lifting my camera to my face. Oh well, next time. But it’s nice to have such easy stiles! There were several of them from now on. And from now on the river seems to be following its original contours.

A most unprepossessing bridge, apart for its name, Pomparles (pronounced PompArlez) Bridge. Until pretty recently it was called Pons Perilis, the dangerous bridge. It carries the main road, causeway, from Glastonbury to Street, and indeed the bridge and the river mark the boundary between the two.

And frankly, that road seemed to me to be almost as busy as ever. Fortunately, I was able to remain down in the field instead of walking along its wide pavement,

until I came to a rhyne.

There was escape to my right, and I had to walk along that pavement for 100 metres or so.

From there, on the outskirts of the urban part of Street, I saw its parish church across the field.

Having turned left,

it would have been very unsociable of me not to call a bridge friend on the phone and invite him to come to the window and wave. But I found I hadn’t got his number on me, so I did something I had never done before in my life – I rang a doorbell and ran away! But only ten yards. B. emerged from his back garden and we chatted for a few minutes. I left with his permission to publish his photo and a request to pass on to other bridge contacts to keep safe.

I diverted from the logical route for a couple of minutes to take photos of the 14th century church,

and the much missed Strode Theatre. It is a fully equipped theatre, (I went on a back-stage tour last year and was very impressed) which must be unique. With the Clark (shoes) family behind it, it was constructed in 1963 to serve not only as a theatre, but as as the local school hall and a not-for-profit cinema. It has been much developed since. (I say ‘much missed’ only because I had three ticket for films for 26th March to 30th April which have fallen the way of all gatherings in recent weeks. Like everyone, I look forward enormously to such places re-opening.)

The joint car park. I’ve never seen it not only empty but shut before.

Housing now, I’m hoping a later edit will state the purpose of this clearly once industrial building. Later: It was the Avalon Leatherboard Company in Street. The company, which was associated with Clarks, made board for use in insoles. Stephen Clark, having made his way up the company, became its manager in 1941 and turned it fortunes around to profitability. (Thanks for info to Liz Leyshon, longtime, now ‘retired’, manager of Strode Theatre.)

I wondered what that grey rock thing was.

It ruined out to be a bull. It moved!

I could have crossed another field and returned back along the Brue, but I chose to take a road which, in normal times I drive along, there and back, about three times a week, but which I had never walked. This for two reasons: to enjoy the avenue of trees, which remind me of similar in France, and on the outside chance I might see a pair of swans.

Later: According to the obituary his sister wrote in 2011, the previously mentioned Stephen Clark ‘said his proudest achievement was planting an avenue of poplars along the road leading from the mill to Glastonbury.’

Buzzard

Bluebells (Spanish of that ilk)

Not swans but better than nothing

The road had been nicely empty, with just the occasional cyclist or two, but I was beginning to think that I was not going to see any swans, when:

Two metres from the road, on what appeared to be a nest. I quickly moved to the other side of the road. She clearly is not fazed by traffic – and at times it can go very fast along here – but she showed just a slight alarm at me. Not for long though, as she settled down again.

Just how beautiful is that?

Looking back. Later: someone has recently seen the pair together at the nest. I had looked around for the mate, but could not see him.

Left again on to Cow Bridge Road, and the sight of Glastonbury Tor accompanies me home. My house is somewhere in there.

I found it striking that there there had been so much foliage on the trees compared with those in my first picture 15 years ago, taken at the same latitude, on the same day of the year.

When I got in, I baked a cake. What’s so strange about that? It’s just that I never bake, the flour was ‘best before’ June 2017, the bicarbonate of soda ‘best before’ 1998 (I bought in it the UK before I moved to France in 1995, and brought it back from there in 2011), and the vanilla essence didn’t even have a B B date on it, as it was older than that system! The cake was/is delicious.

A Spring walk …

Tags

Alexander Hood, Brown-banded carder bee, Butleigh, Buzzard, comfrey, Compton Dundon, Cow parsley, cowslip, Dandelion, Dundon Hill, English bluebell, Glastonbury, Glastonbury Tor, Greater Hawks-beard, Herb Robert, Hood Monument, Pendulous sedge, Polden Way, primrose, ransom, Samuel Hood, speckled wood, vetch, wild garlic, Wych elm

… in the Compton Dundon, Somerset, area.

A friendly dog – which didn’t bark! The Hood Monument right.

I was going Butleigh-wards. And when I turned round from taking this photo…

… I was concerned I might have delightful but unwanted company, but he returned home.

Well, I like dandelions.

Cow parsley

A dandeliony thing, Greater hawks-beard I think.

Comfrey

Hart’s tongue fern (TH)

Pendulous sedge. It’s very pretty, but it’s wicked in my garden, seeding itself everywhere. And it seemed, sadly, to have done so on this walk. There was far too much of it, everywhere, in my view.

Nearing the (physical) high point of the afternoon.

I was tempted to go off at a tangent but didn’t.

The Hood Monument

The top of the monument reflects the activity of Samuel Hood, 1724-1816, local boy made good. His younger brother, Alexander, was also an Admiral, but I know of no monument to him.

In memory of
Sir Samuel Hood
Knight of the most Honourable Order of the Bath
and nominated Grand Cross thereof
Knight of St Ferdinand and of Merit
Knight Grand Cross of the Sword
Vice Admiral of the White
and Commander-in-Chief of His Majesty’s Fleet
in the East Indies

View from the plinth, looking north. If it weren’t for the trees on the left, I could have seen my house. (It would be possible to see my house if one were allowed to climb to the top of the Monument, as I can see the latter from my front window.)

Wych elm, I think

Continuing downwards, I came to my kind of stile

Glastonbury and its Tor.

I had a choice at this point, to walk along a very busy road, or to enter a wood, where three years ago I had found carpets of bluebells.

There were no bluebells where I expected to find them. Either my memory was faulty or they had been stripped out. Or they had been suppressed by the acres of sedge that seemed to be everywhere. After a long while I did find some, but not in the swathes that I expected.

But happily they were English bluebells, with not a Spanish bluebell in sight, then or for the rest of my walk.

The wood felt magical and I found myself envious of the owner.

Impossible not to be aware of a great low-flying bird across my path. It settled in a tree to my left.

A buzzard!

Just look at that beak and those talons!

Then it flew off, to a much higher and much further tree, not yet covered in foliage.

Only on examining and enlarging my photos was I able to see that the tree, a cherry of some sort presumably, had blossom, a nice contrast with the fierceness of the bird.

My Ordnance Survey map indicated that this was, (in Gothic lettering so it was ancient), the ‘New Ditch’.

This inadvertent sculpture pleased me.

There are still many primroses around.

The steps are part of the Polden Way, quite recently established, but mine was the bridleway to the right

It looked easy and smooth

From the path I could just see an inaccessible mass of white flowers in green. As I suspected, they did turn out, thanks to the zoom on the camera, to be wild garlic, aka ransoms.

What promised to be a smooth and easy path was not always. Those ruts are 18 ins (45 cm) deep!

I was not tempted to swing from this beautiful tree, but zoomed in on a yellow sheen on the field.

It was a sheen of cowslips.

Herb Robert

The trouble with butterflies is that they flit about so. This was the best I could do to catch the Speckled wood.

All afternoon there had just been the odd sample of vetch, but towards the end I came across a bankful of the plant, with a co-operative bee.

And, as I only noticed once home, an ant as well. (Brown-banded Carder bee)

Nearly back to my car, this is the back of the local hostelry, with Dundon Hill behind. It has a Gothic lettering fort on it.

A very pleasant afternoon. And other than on the first road, I didn’t meet a soul.

A walk round Glastonbury Tor

Tags

Bushey Coombe, Glastonbury, Glastonbury Antiquarian Society, Glastonbury Tor, Gog and Magog, Mendip District Council, Norwood Park Farm, Paddington Farm, Paddington Farm Trust, Somerset Levels, Somerset Moors, Stone Down Hill

The weather forecast yesterday afternoon indicated that there should be two hours when I could get out for a walk without getting drenched, so I grasped the opportunity with both legs – while covering the rest of me with a waterproof just in case. To the bottom of my road first, where I was not surprised to find that the nearest bit of the Somerset Levels (technically Somerset Moors here) due south was waterlogged, as it frequently is at this season.Up Cinnamon Lane to the very busy National Freight Route A 361, east-west at this point, crossing which involves taking your life in your hands.  But there is no alternative if one wants to walk up or – as I did yesterday – around  Glastonbury Tor. In essence my walk was to be a clockwise circumnavigation of the Tor, which is 158 metres at its highest (plus tower), and Stone Down Hill.   The waterlogged fields were at about 5 metres above sea level, and my walk took me to about 50 metres maximum.  Higher ground was to my right and lower to the left.

In Wellhouse Lane this is to be seen on the side of one of the few houses there.Off left onto Lypyatt Lane, with a right and backward glance to the Tor and its tower, the only remaining part of the 14th century St Michael’s Church, of which the rest was demolished at the Dissolution of the monasteries in 1539.  (An earlier, wooden, church was destroyed in an earthquake in the 1275.)  Read more here.

From which you can see that there is an easy and a hard way up the Tor

Lypyatt Lane

A glimpse to my left of the tower of St John’s Church

 

and more of the town of Glastonbury

On the bank to my right

Bushey Combe

Occasionally the low-lying sun came out, giving splendid effects, straight ahead of me this time

But mainly the weather was gloomy

No doubt a badger track up the bank

To my left is now pretty well due north, towards Wells

Rain coming in from the Mendip Hills? Fortunately it turned out just to be hanging cloud.

My walk next took me through Paddington Farm which is a working organic farm providing free educational facilities, especially for disadvantaged children.

Once past the buildings, I left farm tracks for very soggy fields.

The last stile

Kissing gates from now on – thank you Mendip District Council

Gog…

… and Magog

The two small cottages are called Gog and Magog too.

Norwood Park Farm is now a dairy farm. The house is Grade II listed, and was built in 1457 for the privacy and sport of the Abbots of Glastonbury. They had it alright, abbots, in those days.

The top of the Tor peers over Stone Down Hill

West Pennard over to my left

I’m drawing nearer to the Tor again

Unfortunately, 6 minutes of this circuit involve walking back along the aforementioned noisy and busy A361, at the point at which it goes alongside Millfield’s Preparatory School. Needless to say, traffic does not respect the 40 and 50 mph speed limits. 

The children have a bridge they can use to cross the road, but this is not accessible to the general public as far as I know, and once more I took my life in my hands. Once over I was able to look back to my right for a further view of the Tor, and then I noticed, not for the first time, that spring seems to be well advanced. (Or winter never really came, though there’s plenty of time yet.) Over to my left, to the south, as I embarked on the last few minutes of my walk, I could see the Polden Hills, the lowest range in Somerset. And of course, the Tor was still to my right.Those last few minutes of my walk were pleasantly prolonged as coming in the other direction was my friend Neill, custodian of the Glastonbury Antiquarian Society’s website.   He entertained me with an account of the earliest local excavations of the Tor, by one John Skinner, in the early 19th century.  Extracts from Skinner’s Journal here.While we chatted it started, and stopped, fine drizzling.When I set off again, a yellow helicopter circled for a minute or two,I passed a huge bonfire,

Two men were standing by…

and I took a final look at the Tor between two of my neighbours’ houses.  It started raining shortly afterwards as night fell.

Glastonbury’s ‘Crystal shops’, Part 3

Tags

alternative lifestyle, crystals, Curtain Pole, Glastonbury, Glastonbury High Street, organic food

Next door to the Heavenly Path Art Galleryis a totally conventional shop, The Curtain Pole, selling and making curtains, blinds and soft furnishings. I especially wanted to do this series of blogs now, because this shop always does wonderful windows at Christmas. Here are those of 2015, rather obscured by condensation and reflections, and later, with young visitors.Nearly at the top of the High Street are Arcanacadabra,Kashi, and somewhere that somehow I have failed to visit so far!Wandering back down the High Street again, I pick up our large organic, etc, store,then ‘get real’ and a shop which totally epitomises Glastonbury, simply called Crystals. I believe that Gothic Image, yet another bookshop, is one of the oldest alternative shops in Glastonbury. Certainly they have been running ‘tours to ancient and sacred sites since 1980’.  You can learn more about many of these places from their websites. I think this is wonderful!Back in the Market Place, I pass Happy Glastonbury, and, nearly back to my garage in Benedict Street, I realise that I hadn’t caught the tattoo ‘studio’ on my way out.  Even though it’s actually double this width.Never a dull moment in Glastonbury!

Glastonbury’s ‘Crystal shops’, Part 2

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Athelney, bookshop, Burns the Bread, Glastonbury, Glastonbury High Street, King Alfred, Meditation

Continuing our discovery of Glastonbury’s alternative lifestyle shops, a little further up is Moon Mirrors, and The Mystic Garden. On either side of the High Street are several alleys, reflecting the mediaeval layout of the town centre.  Some of these have totally disappeared, but some of them are still delightful to explore.  The Gauntlet is a very recent exploitation of the original layout, in that the developer not only beautifully restored buildings on either side of the alley, creating shops and accommodation, but extended it further with more housing.  Come and visit these byways yourself… Continuing up the High Street, we come to Yinyang. Glastonbury High street does have a few conventional shops, such as this flower shop, the name of which nevertheless has an Avalonian influence,and the wonderful Burns the Bread, award winning baker. It’s very difficult to pass without just popping in for a pastry. I joined a behind-the-scenes tour of the bakery with the Glastonbury Conservation Society a year or so back.  It was Bob Burns himself who guided us.  What a wonderful name, enabling a good old-fashioned English pun for the name of the shop! (It was only a few miles from here, at Athelney, that King Alfred – if he did – burnt the cakes.)Then we come to a shop focused on Africa, followed by The Goddess and the Green Man,a shop selling imported Indian goods, dilliway and dilliway, and Lilith. Here’s another bookshopand Covenstead’s Curious Cottage, opened recently, in the place of a failed newspaper shop.  (Two years ago we had three of these, now we have just one.) Perhaps you seek Enlightenment? Are you a Natural Earthling? Or perhaps you’d like to try Soul Therapy Meditation.(To be concluded tomorrow.)

Glastonbury’s ‘Crystal shops’, Part 1

Tags

alternative lifestyle, crystal shops, Glastonbury, Glastonbury High Street, hippies, Rapson's

‘The crystal shops’ is the ever-so-slightly contemptuous name given by the more traditionally-minded people living here in Glastonbury to those outlets which promote a more alternative style.  We have dozens of them, and I can only imagine that they must make their living on tourists and web commerce.  Nearly all the goods they sell, other than clothes (the sort I used to wear in the hippie seventies), are of the ‘gift’ variety.

The other day, I had to take my car to the garage early.  I could have walked home then back again two hours later, but instead, as it was a bright, crisp day, I took my camera and wandered around town taking photos of most of these shops, and of a few others.  On the outward journey, most of them were still firmly shut, many with windows obscured by condensation.  By the time I wandered back, and having had a coffee in Caffe Zero, most were open, and most windows were clearer.

I started in Benedict Street, walking up from Rapson’s garage (family firm, great personal service).  The first interesting shop I came to was The Magpies’ Nest.  They get apostrophes!  (My photos amalgamate outward and return strolls.) We are fortunate in having a music shop, and extra fortunate that it has not lost its old shutters, which were open by the time I got back. Next came – you can just make it out – Bedlam.Up in the Market Place is Man, Myth and Magik, and next door is a toy shop, Little Imps.  I was passing a while ago when the owner came out, so I took the opportunity of asking her how much the fantasy castle, which is always in the window, would cost. She said she could get one made for, as I recall, £4000. I have had to limit myself in sharing with you Elestial’s windows, packed with delicate shades of turquoise, mauve and purple. Also in the Market Place is the Cat and Cauldron. Because it was a bright day, you can see more reflections than window contents in the second picture. I couldn’t tell you whether Hemp in Avalon (only in Glastonbury!) actually sells cannabis, (one has to presume not, but…). I’ve just visited their website, and they certainly advocate its use!  I’ve never seen the shop without it’s grill.Further along, in Northload Street, The Crystal Man was shut on both occasions that I passed it.  Its lovely window is not obscured when the shop is open.Back to the Market Place, and starting up the High Street, past the Glastonbury Experience, you come to Courtyard Books, and, on the other side of the Street, another bookshop, The Speaking Tree. Dicketts is a small stationer’s, bookshop and seller of art supplies. Its wares reflect the town it is in. Parts 2 and 3 will complete our tour.