Milton Lodge Gardens

Tags

camass, Glastonbury Tor, Mendip Hills, Milton Lodge Gardens, National Gardens Scheme, ransoms, red kite, triple entry pond, Wells, Wells Cathedral, wild garlic, Wrington

After a pleasant ‘first Friday’ walk with my friend Zoe, starting and finishing in the village of Wrington in North Somerset,

on Sunday I visited Milton Lodge Gardens, just north of England’s smallest city, Wells. It is open to the public three times a week, but this time it was in aid of the National Gardens Scheme.

The weather was lovely, and the outing was popular, so I had to use the overflow car park, from which this was the view, with Glastonbury Tor, whence I had come, a pimple on the horizon.

Right near where I had parked, was this curious depression, explained in a note nearby to be a ‘triple entry pond’, unique to Mendip, and likely to date from the late 1700s. It was constructed to capture naturally draining water from the Mendip Hills, and used to channel water underground to nearly stock fields.

According to Wikipedia, “Milton Lodge was built by Aaron Foster in 1790 and descended in his family until it passed, by marriage, into the ownership of the Tudway family in the mid 19th century. The Tudways had lived nearby at a house, known as The Cedars, which was built in the 1760s by Thomas Paty, and had bought up much of the local land. In 1909 Charles Tudway moved the main family residence to Milton Lodge, with The Cedars being used during World War I as a military hospital and later by Wells Theological College and Wells Cathedral School” [which it still is].

The same source goes on to say that, “The garden was laid out in 1903 by Capt Croker Ives Partridge of the Alfred Parsons garden design company for Charles Tudway. It consists of a series of terraces planted with mixed borders including a collection of roses and climbing plants. The terraces include Yew hedges, ponds and fountains.^[4] The traditional English vegetation is supplemented with Mediterranean plants which are able to flourish due to the microclimate of the site. The upper terrace includes four canons from the Napoleonic Wars are on display.”

Wells Cathedral can just about be made out middle left.

My Candide app suggested that this, of which there were several examples in the Gardens, might be a Flowering maple, (which is not a maple at all but an abutilon), but I’m not quite convinced, while failing to find a better suggestion…

The Gardens go just beyond the big hedge.

As I had walked from the car park, the way was lined with wild garlic, ransoms. I did not take a photo, but need not have worried about there being no further opportunity.

I was tempted up this tiny path to my right, (the terraces being to my left),

and was rewarded with this.

I returned to the main path, went down a few shallow steps, and found a few more ransoms.

Into parkland.

A clearer view of Wells Cathedral

As I said, the Gardens go down to just beyond the big hedge.

At the end of this path was a large area of wildflowers.

My app identified this as Camass, of which I am more confident

On the edge of the wildflower area was this knobbly tree, which I have failed totally to identify,

even given the clue of its leaf shape.

Just by the tree was a bench, one of several in the Gardens. I partook for a minute or two, surveying the lowest terrace

As I stood up, something made my eyes turn skywards, and I was thrilled to see this red kite. It is now some 30+ years since they were reintroduced into the Chiltern Hills. I had seen some in Scotland in 2011 following their reintroduction there, and I knew that they had spread westwards from Oxfordshire into Somerset. But this was the first I had seen here.

I walked through the tea area to explore the middle terrace.

Turning round I spotted a bench hidden on the other side where I thought it would be nice to take a cup of tea.

It’s hidden!

‘Olivia Rose Austin‘

Tea and cake duly bought, I found ‘my’ bench still unoccupied, with this to my left,

this to my right,

and this ahead.

As I returned to my car, it was all too tempting to take an arty photo of the Cathedral, where I shall be singing at a memorial service in a week’s time.

Wells, February 2022

Tags

Bishop's Palace Wells, George Inn Croscombe, Good Earth Wells, Josefina da Vasconcellos, Penniless Porch, St Cuthbert's Wells, St Thomas's Wells, Storm Eunice, Vicars' Close Wells, Wells, Wells Cathedral

Mary’s train from Paddington two days ago drew in to Castle Cary station four minutes early in the morning, and likewise was punctual on the way back in the evening. That is, unlike yesterday and today when the rail system in the south of the UK is in chaos, thanks to Storm Eunice.

To the George Inn, in Croscombe for a coffee, and the first session of putting the world to rights. And congratulating ourselves, yet again, for having, some time back, chosen the only day this week when passing time outdoors was not forecast to be spoilt by rain.

As we got into the car to move on to Wells, the first spots of rain started. Over the eight minutes it took to get to that city (the smallest in England), the downpour got heavier and heavier, such that, at the point we would normally have left the car to walk to our lunch cafe, it would have been a very unpleasant experience indeed. We sat in the car, not yet having paid for our parking, contemplating what to do. Mary consulted her preferred forecaster, Accuweather, which said it would be pouring for the rest of the day. Mine, BBC Weather, almost denied that it was raining, and said that precipitation would be almost non-existant for the rest of the day. We used our eyes, and decided to give up and to go to my home, 20 minutes away, where I would rustle up something for us to eat.

I backed the car out some 10 feet, and suddenly the rain got lighter, light enough to walk under umbrellas to the café. So, OK, we would lunch in Wells, then decide what to do. We paid for the parking – I accidentally did so for much longer than just having a meal would have needed (incomprehensible instructions on the meter). By the time we were sitting down for our excellent meal at The Good Earth, it had stopped raining and there was blue sky. So both weather forecasters were wrong.

The day’s plans had actually been to focus on seeing seeing the snowdrops at the Bishop’s Palace. We took some quiet old residential streets to get there,

and first went via the Penniless Porch . To quote Wikipedia, ‘It was named for the beggars who plied their trade there,^[3][7] however in 2016 a man was prosecuted for begging nearby.^[8]‘

We took a look at the Cathedral,

and at Vicars’ Close (where still all twelve men of the Vicars Choral live).

I came home with well over a hundred pictures taken during the day, so here is a small selection of those I took in the Bishop’s Palace Gardens. (We had actually visited the Palace itself on a previous occasion, perhaps three or four years ago, not written up because the weather was so appalling that photography was worthless, especially in the gardens.)

The Palace’s swans are famous for ringing the bell to get food.

What remains of the Great Hall

Enhanced by a bed of beautiful hellebores

Ramparts and a moat surround the entire palace and its gardens.

Cathedral, Palace, and Mary

The next picture may be of historic interest! It may be the last ever taken of St Thomas’s church spire before its top was blown down by Storm Eunice yesterday morning! It’s there, a little distorted by torsion, at the very left of the picture on the horizon.

The incident has been widely covered in the media, but here is a link to it for the record. Excuse the language if your sound is on… The St Thomas’s link above includes the spire wobbling beforehand as well, and here’s the vicar on the subject.

Daffodils, cyclamen and snowdrops

Crocuses and snowdrops

(courtesy of Mary)

There was a stiff breeze blowing…

I loved the shape of this tree in the children’s play area

Just because everyone takes this view, there’s no reason I shouldn’t.

The Palace’s swans are very tame…

From a distance I had wondered whether the near-adult swan by the sculpture was a sculpture itself. But no, as this video shows. The voice heard is that of the bystander seen at the end. I had advised her to back off…

Mary and I sat for a while on a swing seat in a formal garden of parterres,

with this in front of us. (I just love stipa tenuissima.)

Emerging back through the Great Hall’s wall, we enjoyed this view.

We contemplated going to visit the Cathedral, but opted instead for a cup of tea in the café, The Bishops’ Table,

with this for a view,

and me clearly pontificating on something.

Mary spotted this as we made our way back to the car. Burns the Bread is an excellent small local bakery chain.

We had already obeyed their instruction, at The Bishop’s Table.

We didn’t go straight back to the car park as I had left my umbrella at The Good Earth at lunchtime. It was fortunate that the rain had held off.

Having decided not to ‘do’ the Cathedral, we instead visited St Cuthbert’s church on the way. Live music was being practised on the organ.

Sadly, this photo does not do justice to the bright colours of the roof.

A charming chamber organ,

the important side of which I could not get far enough away from to see fully.

Looking back down the church

Just as we got back to the car – it was fortunate that we had inadvertently paid sufficient parking to cover more than just lunchtime – it started to rain.

Never mind, we were on our way to the warmth of my house, another cup of tea, to obey Burns the Bread’s instructions once more, and to spend even more time putting the world to rights. Isn’t it amazing how the human ape can talk, and talk, and talk, and not run out of things to say to each other?

South Horrington

Tags

Albert Memorial, Care in the Community, Friends of the Mendip Hospital Cemetery, Gilbert Scott, Mendip Hospital, Mendip Hospital Cemetery, Reading Gaol, Somerset and Bath Pauper Lunatic Asylum, South Horrington, St Pancras Station, Tone Vale Hospital, Wells

Christmas Day 2020, and for the first time in my life I was going to spend the whole day alone. Not a problem – but I did want to do something a bit different.

For months I had been wanting to take photos of and write a blog post on a beautiful complex of buildings a couple of miles east of the lovely cathedral city of Wells, and just 20 minutes from where I live. The sun god gave its blessing in the morning, and I drove to South Horrington, a village centred around a converted 19th century mental hospital. The hospital’s principal architect was the prolific Sir (George) Gilbert Scott, 1811-1878, known mainly for his ecclesiastical work, but who designed many workhouses and asylums in the early stages of his career. Reading Gaol, St Pancras station and the Albert Memorial all appear in his portfolio of more than 800 buildings, designed or altered.

Later known as Mendip Hospital, this complex opened as the Somerset and Bath Pauper Lunatic Asylum on 1st March, 1848. It soon filled beyond its capacity, attics were turned into dormitories, and its principal psychiatric function was transferred in 1897 to the Tone Vale Hospital near Taunton. But it continued to house long-stay elderly and mentally infirm patients, until 1991 when it was closed under the Care in the Community policy. It was then converted into ‘luxury’ flats and houses, which I discovered in 2011 when I was about to return from France and looking for somewhere to live. I did not pursue the idea of living there for a number of practical reasons, but aesthetic distaste was not among them!

I had driven round the grounds on a few occasions since, but this was the first time I had got out of my car. I parked in:

(A strangely tatty entrance panel for such a beautiful and prestigious site)

(I took this photo towards the end of my stroll, my car being parked by the ‘D’ of ‘Road’, bottom right.)

I have not been able to find the significance of the various colours, and indeed I have been able to find very little detail, historic or otherwise, about the buildings as a whole, apart from the links I have indicated. Given that Gilbert Scott designed so many such, perhaps this is not so surprising.

Looking back from where I parked,

and walking on.

The splendid entrance to the building. An apartment in here is for sale at the time of writing.

I walked clockwise around the complex.

This corner particularly appealed, though I imagine it gets little, if any, sun.

The part jutting out on the left is opposite the main entrance.

The chapel’s spire appears over a collection of houses

One of the reasons I did not, ten years ago, pursue the idea of living here was the assumption that I would not be allowed to have a cat flap in my front door. The building is Grade II listed. But, although I saw several of these notices, I saw people out walking their dogs, always on a leash.

To the Chapel without getting wet

The residences on the right appear as old as the rest of the complex, but…

The Chapel also is converted into accommodation units.

Well, maybe catflaps are allowed…

I should love to know more about the arches below, and hoped to find that there was some society interested in the history of the place. All I have found is the Friends of the Mendip Hospital Cemetery. [Later edit. I have since come across this: https://www.countyasylums.co.uk/mendip-wells/ ]

The cemetery is a mile or so away towards Wells, and I did look in 2011 at a property, the back garden of which abuts on to it. I was tempted. To have a nature reserve at my back garden would have been wonderful. There was just a lovely low stone wall between the bottom of the sloping garden and the cemetery, and wonderful views beyond the it to distant wooded hills. But the house needed too much work.

Towards the end of my walk, I got chatting with this couple (with dog!). They had lived in South Horrington, at three different addresses, for 20 years. They loved it, and they particularly extolled the walks there were in various directions, including Wells city just 20 minutes away.

Completing the circuit to my car took me along a footpath and past Fire Engine Cottage.

And for some silly reason I took a selfie.

Here’s wishing you a much happier New Year!

A concert in Wells Cathedral

Tags

Hassler, Jacquet de Mantua, Morales, Pepylling Wynde, Peter Leech, Renaissance, Sheppard, Spem in Alium, Striggio, Tallis, Tallis Voices, Wells, Wells Cathedral, Wells Museum

Last Friday I sang with a large group of musical friends from near and far, calling themselves Tallis Voices, in a rather special concert in Wells Cathedral. It was to celebrate ten years of having done so, just once a year, usually on just a day and a half of rehearsals.  This time we had two whole days to rehearse, a real luxury. The main work was Tallis’s wonderful 40-part ‘Spem in Alium’, to which were added works by Striggio, Morales, Hassler, Jacquet de Mantua, and Sheppard, all renaissance masterpieces.

We met mainly in Wells Museum’s meeting room, but we spent a few hours in the Cathedral itself, and I managed to dash around and take a few photos before, and even during that time.

It was a grey afternoon as I firstly wandered around outside.

Vicars’ Close

North door

Here are some general views inside.

From the west end

The famous ‘scissors’ were added a century or so after construction to stop the tower falling in.

From behind the altar

The organ and half the choir stalls

Sorry about the musicians’ clobber

The famous steps, leading up to…

… the Chapter House

Some details.

A clock in the north transept even more splendid than the one outside

Singer’s eye view

This half of the choir sang the Morales in the south transept.  My half sang the Jaquet de Mantua in the north transept.

Our conductor, Peter Leech, showing us something on his score of the 40-part Tallis piece.

The instrumentalists, Pepylling Wynde,  played in some of the works, and performed on their own as well.

The sun came out at the end of the afternoon.

No pictures of the concert for obvious reasons. Thank you Chris, Sue, and Peter for a thoroughly enjoyable two days.

Romulus and Remus

Tags

A 39, Amulius, Bristol, Faustulus, Gaetano Celestra, Mendips, PoWs, Remus, Rhea Sylvia, Rome, Romulus, Wells, wolf, World War Two

It is very easy not to notice Romulus and Remus at the side of the busy Wells/Bristol road, at one of the highest points of the Mendip Hills.  I drove by in ignorance for months after I moved to Somerset, until someone pointed them out to me.  But only today have I actually found parking and visited them on foot.

It’s a sculpture created and given by some grateful Italian prisoners of war as they were released in 1945.

As I stood and read the plaque, I couldn’t help by be moved, even though I already knew the story.  Perhaps it was learning the name of the sculptor that got to me. He settled in the area and continued working as a builder and stonemason.