Salisbury 2

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Cancer Research, Edward Heath, Kate Chruscicka, Mompesson House, National Trust, Salisbury, Salisbury Cathedral

Salisbury 2.  Out once more on the Cathedral green, I stood in the middle and took a video.

Just from there, not counting the rest of Salisbury, there were several things we could have been to see, including:

A regimental museum and quite posh tea room in one building

Heath’s home, Arundells, is now owned and run by a charitable trust

But we decided upon the National Trust property, Mompesson House, a ‘perfectly proportioned Queen Anne house’.  Again, photography was freely allowed – just no flash. The property was not large, so it did not take us long to go round. 

I thought of my new bridge-playing friends at this point

Not a bad view from your bedroom…

And a pleasant view from the landing as well

We wandered slowly back into town,  and not long after decided we just had time for a cup of tea before Mary had to get back to the station for her train.  And for once we were delighted to be entertained by a street musician, a violinist, clearly very talented and playing very acceptable melodic music. 

 

We learned in due course that her name was Kate Chruscicka, a professional, though this time she was playing for Cancer Research, a cause for which she will be climbing Mount Kilimanjaro in October. (Mary knows someone who is doing similarly, so we are wondering if the two women will be on the same expedition.)

I had been hoping to drive eastwards on leaving Salisbury to join relatives in Berkshire, as we were meant to be making a sixth attempt to go up in a hot air balloon the following morning.  However, by the time I got back to my car, I knew that this attempt had also been cancelled, yet again ‘due to unfavourable weather conditions’.  Next try next week – I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever get to do that blog post!

But I’m sure to go back to Salisbury.

Stourhead, both colourful and grey

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Autumn colour, Castle Cary, Hoare's Bank, National Trust, Stourhead

Someone – I don’t know who – has described Stourhead as ‘the most bewitching and beautiful of this country’s landscaped gardens’.   I met Mary off the train at Castle Cary Station on Wednesday in lovely autumn sunshine. By the time we had driven to the National Trust property, had our obligatory coffee and lengthy natter, the sun had disappeared.  But it remained very mild, and dry,  and grey – sometimes very grey – for the rest of the day.

We walked to the Palladian house, built by the son of the founder of Hoare’s bank, and passed this gate and lodge on the way.

We spent an hour or so looking round the house, full of treasures, and still inhabited by the members of the Hoare family, though gifted by them, along with the garden and half the estate, to the National Trust in 1947.  I have to commend the help of the room guides – two of them especially since by total coincidence I had made their acquaintance in an entirely different context just two days previously!

But it is the landscaped garden for which Stourhead is famed. And the best time to visit is the autumn as the leaves are turning. Or the spring when the flowers are in bloom.  Here are the best of the photos I took, in poor light conditions sadly.  There in person, we scarcely noticed the light, since the views and the colours were so wonderful.

The Pantheon. Many times seen on chocolate boxes.

Not a washed out photo, but truly pastel shaded

Cormorants

Giant knees

The Temple of Apollo

The Pantheon

The Temple of Apollo

Looking back to the Pantheon

It was the grandson of the bank founder who oversaw the creation of the garden and the building of its classical  follies which we so enjoy today.

We drove back to the station as it was getting dark, and as we emerged from a road which went across the remains of the Hoare estate, still in private hands, we caught a glimpse of the sun again.

 

West Yorkshire

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camomile lawn, cricket, Derbyshire Dales, East Riddlesdon Hall, Mytholmroyd, National Trust, Olympic Games, pomander, rag rugs, Roberts Park, Shipley, Shipley Glen Cable Tramway, Shipley Moor, Stafford, Yorkshire

Least said, soonest mended about last Friday, August 19th.  Prevented in March by ill-health from visiting friends in and on the way to Yorkshire, I had arranged to retrieve the situation last weekend.  What should have been five hours’ driving time turned out to be eight hours’.  Sheer volume of holiday traffic, accidents, road works, I heard the lot on my car radio’s traffic alerts.

Anyway, it was lovely to arrive at last at Hazel and John’s house in Shipley, where they had kindly waited the evening meal despite my request that they didn’t, and we started catching up on news.  I was at primary and secondary school with Hazel a very, very long time ago, and each of us has spent long periods living abroad.  Hazel has daughters and grandchildren in Canada, and they are at charmingly interesting ages.

Saturday morning I drove over via some spectacular scenery to Mytholmroyd.  These pictures do only scant justice due to poor weather and difficulty finding places to stop the car.I spent a couple of hours with my very old  – in both senses and he won’t mind my saying so – friend Brian, and also met Marley for the first time.  Here they are.In the afternoon, back in Shipley, I was only too pleased to succumb to the rain and stay in.  Moreover, I have never found the Olympic Games as interesting as I have this year, and I was pleased to find that H and J were also happy to have the TV on to watch some of the penultimate day’s activity.

The following day we made up for our idleness.  I’m always pleased to use my life membership of the National Trust, and East Riddlesden Hall is only a very short distance from Shipley.Apologies for the quality of some of the following photos.  I had forgotten to pack my camera for the weekend, so these were taken on my tablet, which is fine in good light, but in the dim light inside the house it was struggling at times.

John trying his hand at rag rug-making

Hazel examining one of the many old cures scattered around the place.

Yes, that does say ‘Dead Toad’.  Another said ‘Vulpine (grated fox). Rub on chest to cure a cold’

Learning about pomanders

Congratulating ourselves on dodging the showers, we wandered around outside to admire the structure of the building and the gardens.

Camomile lawn in the making

After lunch we drove to Shipley Moor, and walked down the side of the tramway, the only remaining part of the old pleasure gardens.  Into the park,

where we were able to enjoy a variety of traditional municipal and other activities.

Here’s a British tradition that might have died in Bradford but for the town’s Asian immigrants

No steep walk back up to the car for us. We took the tramway.  I felt utterly ashamed of myself when I enquired about concessionary prices, so paying just 50p for each of us, so was very pleased when John pointed out a collection box for the voluntary body that runs the trip. I posted the balance between that fare and the pre-retirement age adult rate!

A lovely drive back via another very elevated beauty spot.

Monday morning, time to return home south, via Stafford to have lunch with my former work colleague Ellie. I decided to avoid the motorways, at least for this first half of the journey home, and was quite mind-blown at the grandeur of the Derbyshire Dales, just frustrated that it impossible to record it in the very thick drizzle.  

The sheep didn’t seem bothered though.

Dyrham Park

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Brathwayt, Dyrham Park, Henry the cat, National Trust, pond-dipping

The date was fixed ages go, so my friend Sue and I were delighted when the weather earlier this week turned out to be wonderful for our planned visit to the National Trust property at Dyrham Park, South Gloucestershire.

From the car park it is a 15-minute amble down through parkland to the house, so we were very pleased to learn that later in the day a bus would bring us back up if we wished. Deferring the pleasure of a coffee, we turned aside to visit the conservatory.Once refreshed, we just wandered around taking in the general picture.We did think this rather spoiled things,until we saw that why it was there.  We learned later that Tim, head gardener, would spend his entire life cutting these hedges if he could get away with it.We continued to wander and saw animate creatures as well as plants.At noon we joined a small group led by an excellent volunteer for a guided tour round the gardens. We also learned about the development of the property by William Brathwayt at the turn of the 18th century.  It has been very little altered since then, apart from some Victorian improvements to domestic offices. When the National Trust took it over in 1956 it was in a very deliapidated state. The Trust has been restoring the gardens and grounds to the spirit of their original conception ever since.

Photo opportunities galore of plants near…and very near, with…

and without insects on them.After lunch, we discovered nooks and crannies, and learned that Henry, the cat we had seen earlier and saw again now, lived in a flat on the first floor of this courtyard, climbing up the vine to get in his window.We visited the church,

and wandered a bit more.Then Sue decided to take it easy while I went on another guided tour, of the woodland terraces.  Less photogenic this time, but it was interesting to hear, from the same volunteer as had led the morning tour, the story of their development, decline, and current restoration.

Henry was everywhere. Now which T S Eliot feline does he resemble…?

There was no time to visit the house.  That must be for another time, at perhaps a different time of year, in order to enjoy the gardens at another season.

 

Muchelney and Thorney

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cattle, heron, martin, Midelney, Muchelney, National Trust, pumping station, River Parrett, swan, Thorney, water management, Westmoor, Yeovil Railway

Muchelney was much in the news in winter 2013/14.   ‘-ney’ or ‘-ey’ at the end of a place-name round here in the Somerset Levels, drained over centuries, means ‘island’. Muchelney became a ‘Great Island’ once more in the terrible floods suffered at that time by some farmers and other residents.

The weather was much better when Zoe and I decided to start our monthly walk from the Priest’s House (National Trust), Muchelney the other day, following the River Parrett for much of the circular walk, and returning via Thorney to the village, which showed signs of considerable refurbishment.  Some houses seemed still unoccupied.

The Priest’s House. We didn’t visit, having neither the time nor our NT membership cards with us.

A bridge disappeared from a railway line disappeared

Dad, Mum and offspring

The feather blew off, to our satisfaction…

…and a second offspring rejoined the family

Our debate and conclusions as to what this was were far too ridiculous to be recorded here.

All along the River Parrett there were signs of water management, overwhelmed during the flooding.

I think was the first walk which Zoe and I have done where every single stile was a kind sub-gate, rather than one needing to be clambered over.

Pumping station

Just a few of the swans gracing a field nearby

Below the three outlets there were fish small…

… and large.  Was the water particularly highly oxygenated?

Not easy to capture the martins after the flies which frequented the same spot.

Older water management device

More evidence of the old Yeovil branch line

Returning to Muchelney…

… we saw there were things to do and see there.

Just a field with some cattle to cross to return to our starting point. We reminded ourselves of another walk when we had hastily beaten a retreat over a five-barred-gate as some young bullocks were taking much too close an interest in us.

Is this too close? We walked on, to hear the thunder of 15 x 4 hooves behind us.  Zoe said you just turn round and stare at them.  I decided to rush at them rather.

It worked, and they turned back and aside, gambolling as much as young cattle can.  But they also thought it was a great game and continued to stalk us.

I continued my method, Zoe hers.

We were pleased to get the other side of a gate,

and I was able to confront the bold leader of the gang, with whom, nevertheless, I felt I had established some kind of relationship.  Is that an evil eye, or what?

The best view we could get of Muchelney Abbey’s ‘ground plan’ without going in.

Our starting point, the church of St Peter and St Paul.

Avebury Manor

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Adam Williamson, Avebury Circle, Avebury Manor, BBC, National Trust, Richard Holford, Sir Alexander Keiller, Wiltshire

A few years ago, the BBC and the National Trust collaborated on a project to do up Avebury Manor, in Wiltshire, in an innovative way.  I avoid the word ‘restore’, as each room was done up, using modern copies and decoration, as a kind of stage set, to illustrate how the room might have looked at a certain period of the Manor’s history.  Right now, staff and volunteers have further embellished each room to show how it might have looked at Christmas.  I visited last week with a friend. Here are some photos I took, reflecting not historical order, but our tour, which started with how a Tudor dining room might have looked at Christmas in the mid 16th century. Next was a dining room as it might have been in 1798, when the then owner, Sir  Adam Williamson, former Governor of Jamaica had a fatal fall in that very room, possibly as the result of a stroke. We visited the post World War I billiard room, but I was unable to get a decent picture, other than this one, for too much brilliant sunlight and the presence of too many visitors.

The 1912 kitchen occasionally reminded us of items we had known in our own 20th-century childhoods.

We were pleased to be offered in the room next door, which had been the servants’ hall, minced pies and mulled apple juice.

It was the millionaire archeologist Sir Alexander Keiller, of the marmalade family, who bought Avebury Manor in the 20th century, in order to work on excavating and re-erecting the standing stones.  (His widow gifted the estate to the National Trust in 1966.) Here is his parlour as it may have looked in the 1930s.

Next we saw a late Tudor bedroom, sadly with a sumptuous bedcover removed and a rather boring ‘Christmassy’ one in its place.  Still, it was good to see the handmade felt decorations on the Christmas tree, though on reflection wasn’t it the Queen Victoria’s Prince Albert who introduced that traditional Christmas symbol to the country? Queen Anne may or may not have dined at Avebury Manor, and may or may not have slept there in 1702.  But Richard Holford, the owner at the time, may well have  prepared for the eventuality, and here is a stage set version (as the guide insisted) of how it might have been done.No explanation was given of these festive delights: Most of the garden was closed, but we were able to see a little of it and look back at the house,

before walking alongside the wall past the church to the outbuildings, including the cafeteria where we lunched, after visiting the archeological museum.  Then, as it was a chilly day, whether or not the sun was out, we limited our visit to the Avebury Stone Circle to a few minutes, before making our way home.