I’ve written about the music course under the auspices of the Gloucestershire Academy of Music that I was on a couple of weeks ago. I’ve written about the funny turn I had while there. Here are the pictures of the gardens I visited on Monday’s afternoon off.
Cerney House is just a couple of miles down the road from Rendcomb College, where the course was taking place. It belongs to the Angus family. I spend a happy hour or so wandering, with the aid of a loaned printed guide, around the large walled garden and it several ‘rooms’, and then out into the parkland to the side and front of the house.
Entrance to walled garden on the leftUp into the medicinal plant garden, with it many suggested cures.This is just part of it.Some labels were on slate, some on board, with explanations.And out againPart of the Potting Shed Shop. I didn’t buy anything, since it would be several days before I would be home.Orange, purple and green offset each other so well.Out of the walled garden into the parklandThis was an extraordinary tree, fallen clearly many years ago, and still flourishing.A romantic glimpse of the houseMildred and an uninvited guest
Mildred is very old and recently lost her husband, Frank. She is glad of the company of three other ducks. The notice saying so didn’t say what she thought of the squirrel.
Ice house
A proud peacock (butterfly) right by my parked car.
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.
USA 2018 (2), Bedford NH. Tuesday 13th February. A quiet day on my own.
My body clock ensured that I got 5 hours’ sleep maximum, and I found myself exchanging Facebook messages with Geoff’s sister in the UK at our respective 3 am/8am. I stayed in bed reading (online newspapers and e-novel), dozing, and Facebooking until all but one resident had departed for work/school, and breakfasted at 8 pm. I spotted this from my bedroom window as I got up. (I realised later that therewas a bird feeder immediately above.)
Later, having strolled around the garden, while being very wary of solid ice patches, I went out for a lovely two-hour, 3 1/2 mile gentle there-and-back stroll in the neighbourhood.
The nearby city of Manchester in the distance
The sun was melting frozen ice, and this particular bank had me mesmerised on the way out. It was a soundscape as much as a visual pleasure, as icicles came crashing down.
Wild turkeys in someone’s garden. I was told they come out of the forest to peck for seeds as the snow melts.
Red-tailed hawk…
… flying…
… to, presumably, its mate.
No idea.
The ice bank once more held me in thrall on the way back, and the droplets falling in this three-second video made me think of tadpoles.
Family members started arriving home at 4 pm, and the catching-up chat that hadn’t been possible the day before took place, followed by a not-quite-so-early retirement to bed.
I went out for a lovely two-hour, 3 1/2 mile gentle there-and-back stroll in the neighbourhood.
The sun was melting frozen ice, and this particular bank had me mesmerised on the way out. 
It was a soundscape as much as a visual pleasure, as icicles came crashing down.
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