Tea, Cakes and Bunches of Flowers at Taddington

The 272, late, took us to Haveasausage as is our  habit. At the cottage we received a hearty welcome and the dogs, as expected, explored my pockets for tasty treats. It always delights us to find such a welcome only 30 mins from the apartment and  the almost immediate change from urbanity to lush green moorland seems magical.

Another bright summer's day made for a tip to Taddington. The Derbyshire countryside is at it's greenest and best. Taddington's village folk were hosting their Well Dressing and have also decked out the church (St Michael and All Angels, mid 14 C) with flowers.

Tea, cakes and sandwiches, freshly made, were available so, naturally, we tested the fare. Bells were rung their round which made the whole experience seem like a scene from a BBC 19 C period drama. England at it's most English. All that was missing was a cricket match on the green; there is no green.

Back to the cottage for high-tea and a chance to solve the problems of the world ...

Offan a Bigger Surprise Than You Expect

A trip to Lichfield cathedral proved to be one of the most surprising we have had. I didn't feel like driving so we took the National Express coach for a relaxing day out. That was even more sensible because the coach was caught in nose-to-tail traffic, which moved at walking speed, while travelling on the M1 and it was raining - I had the pleasure of sitting back and letting someone else have the stress.

Lichfield city seems to be a very pleasant place with a quiet feel to the town centre which is a mixture of  historic and ultra-modern buildings. We walked into The Close which surrounds the cathedral. The building is truly magnificent. Constructed of fine grained pink-red sandstone sadly, affected by years of wood and coal smoke which gives the building a very dark colour and almost black in places. This doesn't diminish the impressive nature of the place.

Inside is fabulous. Well restored and lit. I can honestly say it left me speech less - a near impossible state. This cathedral is one of the finest you could visit - despite malicious efforts of the Cromwellian Taliban. The east windows are being restored so we didn't see 16th C glass bought by Boothby from Belgium during the early 19th C. The Rood Screen is Victorian and is like a piece of jewelry which looks really beautiful.

We can thank Offa (he of the dike) for getting permission from the Pope to create a Bishopric in 786 AD which started the whole process of creating such a magnificent building.

Calder Valley in Sunshine

A family day out by train - sort of. A christening called the Ellmore Clan to Whalley in the Calder Valley. Sue answered the call and we took the train via Leeds and Blackburn. The country looked great in the sunshine - in other weather most of it would have been bleak to say the least. Chrisening over, we repasted and made our way back to Sheffield. However, due to staffing difficulties, the train to Leeds was cancelled. The Northern Rail Customer Service Officer was as helpful as he could be and he re-routed us, via Bolton and Manchester, back to Sheffield. Now things are not that simple ticket-wise. Our ticket was only valid via Burnley, so we were liable to pay any difference in fare. That's where common sense and reasonability of the three guards on the trains came into play - we were not asked to pay a penny extra. All-in-all excellent service and helpful staff got us back to Sheffield half-an-hour earlier than the train we'd book in the first place.

What was our impression of Leeds, Blackburn, Bolton and Manchester et al? Sadley they seemed to fulfill the worse image you can bring to mind of  "The North" - scruffy urban sprawl. Sheffield seems to avoid this impression for reason which escape us.

Overall a great train ride and very pleasant Clan meeting.

Rain, Thunder and Wind - You Can Bank On IT

What weather - er, it's typical English summer storms. Driving in the poring rain along a winding lane which followed the banks of the river Witham certainly aided my concentration. We reached Kirstead and the rain eventually eased so we could see the little church (St Leonard's) isolated in the fields. Down the gravel track, passing the very limited remains of the old Kirkstead Abbey, brought us to this unusual church which looks a cross between old Saxon/Norman and one you'd expect to find in rural Denmark, Norway or Sweden - it's half stone and half timber. It was locked - naturally. We peeked through the keyholes and go a glimpse of the medieval rood screen but didn't have the heart to crash the wedding that was timed to start in an hours time. On to Woodhall Spa ...

Nothing to see worth stopping there and, rain resuming it's downpour, we went on to Bolingbroke Castle; there is only the remains of the castle. The rain eased - sort of - so we pottered about the ruins until the thunder and lighting encouraged us to retreat to the church at Old Bolingbroke. Part of the church of St Peter and St Paul dates back to the 14th century and it is believed that this rebuilding was paid for by John of Gaunt. This is a very pleasant church and well used; we blundered into a cleaning session which was in preparation for a tea and cake morning planned for the following day. Unfortunately no tea or cakes were on offer, only dusters and cobweb brushes ...

Next stop, Revesby. Tea was on offer and indulgence whetted a interesting conversation with the lady vicar about the history of the church  (St Lawrence) and the Revesby Estate. The estate is still huge and it's Almshouses are still rented out to the more needy. These houses were built by Joe Banks' father - Banks of botanical persuasion and Cook expedition. Another Terra Australis Old Boy location and all by accident ...

Torrents of rain finally washed us back to our temporary lodgings via the essential supermarket ... QED

Country Roads, Churches and a Norman Castle

First stop this morning was at Heydour where we looked for the remains of the Norman motte and bailey. No luck, other than a slight mound covered in ill tended bushes, which seemed to have no legal way of being reached on foot; looking at the aero photo showed the mounds were indeed the motte. The village reeked of ill-gotten-gains; no ordinary mortals here; by-Jove, couldn't have the likes of the unwashed next door. One place called a "farm" was either a house paid for by the government or the weekend retreat of one of the multi-lolly brigade. All too nice and clean ... even the stables looked as though they had just been washed. T'other houses all touted themselves as "hall", "manor" and such like. Out of all the villages we've seen this one look just a bit too quiet, clean and tidy; almost spooky. Just as we started to leave a couple of rustics seems to appear from nowhere to give us the once-over. Odd ... so onward ...

We drove though Aswarby - large church in poor repair (locked) - which was the home of George Bass. On to Morton to be surprised by the church not only being open but huge. The tower, situated at the crossing, seemed more appropriate for an abbey.

On down to Bourne where the thunderstorms started to dampen our perambulations. The Abbey church was founded in 1138 and naturally was built in Norman style. A large building which is well worth a visit.

Castle Bytham

Despite the rain we drove on to Castle Bytham and walked over some farm land to see the remains of a Normal Castle. There is no sign of the stone work that would have existed had the castle been of the size and construction suggested by the historical information posted at the site. The motte and bailey mound is very large and impressive. I'll have to research this site because I'm really sceptical about the posted information.

We drove back to Sleaford via a really twisty route which provided grand views of reaped fields of wheat and rolling hills, plus, as a real surprise, about 12 deer in the middle of the narrow road.

Flinders Surprise Finders

What a summer day! You have to have experience an English summer day; no words can describe the day we have had. Weather wise - perfect! A trip down Motte and Bailey lane took us to the village of Swinehead where we eventually found "The Manwar Ings". This is a large two moated earthwork of Norman age. Overgrown and  isolated but still impressive in terms of the ditch size as well as the panoramic view the motte provided of the surrounding fens.

Next we visited Bicker church, St Swithin's, which has some of the best Norman work in Lincolnshire and triple lancet windows; sadly it was locked. We drove on to Donington which we expected to pass through but the massive church just had to be investigated. The church of St Mary and the Holy Rood was also locked but, fortunately, the keeper of the key had seen us wandering around the outside. That's when we found Mat Flinders.

Part of a stained glass window

We had no idea that Matthew Flinders - the fantastic navigator - was born in Donington in March 1774. His dad was the village surgeon and apothecary and Matthew, age 13, helped pa to bleed and potion the locals before joining the Navy in 1789. The church has what is a virtual shrine to the fellow and Ozers visit by the boat load. The church key holder turned out to be the main architect of Flinders memorial; he had travelled to Oz six time to catalogue Flinders memorabilia and, being a retired geography teacher, was as enthusiastic as any Flinderphile you could meet.


After a pleasant chat we moved on to the village of Horbling and visited St Andrew's church - closed. Lo and behold, Flinders was sent to this church in 1786 as a border at Rev John Shingler's school at a cost of £10-10s a year. Makes you think when you learn that the great Oz explorer (really a Lincolnshire Lad) went to a single room school run by a local vicar. Mat married Ann Chappell, a Lincolnshire Lass from Partney, which is a village a few mile north of Donington; we have yet to visit Partney ...

No Eagles but History by the Shed Load

Driving into Lincoln you can't but be impressed by the cathedral sited on the hill. This is a magnificent building which some claim is the finest of its kind in Europe. We spent an excellent afternoon in the company of one of the cathedral staff and, later, had the pleasure of listening to a Swiss choir practising for Evensong service. No matter how many time I visit the place I'm always impressed - that's been over 55 years now ...

The walk up Steep Hill, which is another old haunt of my childhood, from the town centre, seems to have increased in steepness. The Jews House is one of the historic buildings at the base of the hill and was, for a short time, owned or rented, by my ma's distant family - or so I was told when a snotty nosed brat.

We spent an informative morning at St Mary-le-Wigford church visiting the vicar (Jeremy), an acquaintance we made last year when he was a curate in Sleaford. This guy is not your average priest; ex-military intelligence via the Bosnian conflict and, to be polite, I just say he calls a spade a shovel. He has reopened the church after many years of, more or less, closure to the riff-raff. The place is now a drop-in centre and doing well giving what support it can to those who are outside nice, polite society.

British Heritage have approve plans for a major update of the facilities at the church - kitchen, meeting rooms, photo-voltaic panels and a covered cloister which are add-on structures to the historic building. St Mary's is THE oldest church in Lincoln and there is archaeological evidence that it is possible that there were Iron Age settlements on or near the site.

On our way back to Sleaford we tried to find the remains of a Knights Templar preceptory just south of Cranwell but were put off by the lateness of the afternoon and the farm track that lead to what I thought was the building's roof; the only thing we could see that was remotely like a tower and visible over the hedge rows. This will be investigated again ...

Phew or Maybe Pew - They're 600 Years Old!

It's been a busy two days shuttling from pew to pew. The country lanes and minor roads in Lincolnshire seem to be laced with medieval churches. Our fascination with the historic is almost hysteric with the promise of medieval wall paintings just down the next road. Spires beckon from behind yet another copse of vibrantly green trees just across the fields which are golden with wheat. The weather has been idyllic so that driving is a pleasure - well almost.

Pickworth

The names of the villages where we visited the churches sound of the history of this county:  Brant Broughton, Welbourn, Fenton, Leadenham, Stubton, Beckingham, Corby Glen, Irnham, Silk Willoughby, Pickworth, Quarrington and Lenton.

I find it interesting to conjecture on what happened to the people who sat in the boxed pew that I sit in as I look at the 600 year old Rood Screen set across the Norman arch which itself is partly supported by Saxon Pillars. The remains of the medieval wall paintings on the Clerestory seem sad and unimpressive in terms of colour but their simple graphically nature outstrips the complex designs of the Victorian stained glass now decorating the east window. One church can span the whole of the religious history, and therefore social and political history, of England; that is the fascination of these churches.

Tomorrow... Colonia Domitiana Lindensivm Lindvm ... in search of the Eagle of the Ninth? ...

Well Dressings, Jet Fighters and Cathedral

What a mixture! A week of this and that nearly makes my head spin. We hired a car for the week (Enterprise of course) and had a day trip out looking at the well dressings in Derbyshire.

Bradwell proved to have a splendid array of homemade cakes, fresh sandwiches and pots of freshly brewed tea ... the well dressings were very good too. We wandered the village which, to our surprise, was bigger than we thought - that's to be expected because the only time we've been here before was to by the excellent Bradwell ice cream; sadly this enterprise has gone bust.

Bonsall's well dressings were OK but, being filled with tea and cake, we didn't go for more. The countryside was as lovely as you'd expect for a sunny day in Derbyshire - traffic in places as mad as ever.

A fast, traffic filled drive brought us to our home turf - Lincolnshire. Yesterday we had an excellent lunch at a pub boasting 600 whiskeys which, on inspection, seemed to be mostly empty bottles. Meeting Sue's bro and sis allowed over three hours on pleasant nattering and catching up on family this-and-that. It came as a surprise to lean that bro had spent part of his working life maintaining the GPO equipment housed in the roof of Lincoln cathedral; this explained his interest in the cathedral.

The Real Biltons?

Today, Sunday, has dawned sunny and warm - that soft English summer atmosphere which once experienced is never forgotten. Blue sky and fighter's - that's typical of this neck of the woods; Cranwell is but 10 miles away. The 600 whiskey pub has a folk festival today; free entry supported by arts grants and the BBC amongst others. We'll oil up our rapper knives, polish our clogs and whack our diddle-ohs down to the barn for a gurt olde knees-up with fellow Yellow-Bellies.

"When I was born apprentice in famous Lincolnshire,
T'was then I took to poachin' as you shall quickly hear ...."

A Pocket Full of Biscuits and You Are Home

It's been an interesting week doing all the ordinary things that are necessary to normal life. We're trying to avoid the excellent supermarket that is virtually at our front door. Delicious, mouth watering goodies begging to be bought wafting their fattening vapours through the air conditioning ducts - pure torture I tell you!

We've took the trusty 272 to Have-a-sausage (Hathersage to the non-locals) and visited our friends at their cottage.

Passing the village cricket ground we watched a couple of overs with the sounds of Blackbirds, leather-on-willow, muted shouts of the players and the half-hour chime of the village church clock took us to a different world. Twee or hackneyed that world may be so some but it's a delightful place for me. The walk across the fields was, as ever, really pleasant. There is something about England's countryside that just can't be bettered.

When we arrived at the cottage all three dogs remembered my biscuit pocket which made me feel at home again.