If we tried to give every week a name we probably couldn't - but this past one I would label as an 'up and down' one. If I talk about the downs first then I can finish on a high note. News from New Zealand was that two people that have both played a part in my life have passed away. It is sad to think that I can no longer say hello to them, or visit them, and certainly it reminds me to continue to make the most of what we have. On to Friday ... when we were meant to be flying off to Belfast for our long 'looked forward to trip' to the Giant Causeway. After 2 hours at the airport, we were told we weren't allowed to get on the plane - what us little old kiwis!! Yes, we had gone through security but at the gate Ryanair (you know that quaint, Irish, no frills airline that is trying to increase their patronage and income by charging for using the toilets on the plane) staff said we didn't have our online tickets stamped and could not travel. They have recently changed to online booking for non-EU residents and so we assumed (yes I do know what they say about making assumptions and they are right) that the procedure would be the same for all airlines. WRONG - even though we were only flying within Great Britain, and we don't need a visa to be in Great Britain anyway, we needed a stamp on our ticket, no stamp no fly!! After a few grumbles about spoiling the weekend and how much money we had lost (deposit on hotel, car parking, airfares) and how we would never fly Ryanair again (except for the flights we have already booked) we drove back to Bristol and discussed what we could do in the weekend. Out came our little box of leaflets we had been collecting for such an occasion and decided to visit Bourton on the Water, Lynton and Lynmouth and Malmesbury (3 visits, 3 days as it is a bank holiday on Monday).
So, I'll start with Bourton on the Water - its in the Cotswolds (remarkably few thatched cottages in this area) about an hours drive from Bristol. The photos are all Harry's as he tried out his new camera and I managed to delete all mine accidentally while wandering through the bird sanctuary (I know it isn't that easy to delete them but somehow I managed it). Saturday and infact the whole weekend was shorts and teeshirt weather so we enjoyed wandering around the sleepy little hollow while the village buzzed with tourists lazing and picnicking in the sun, paddling in the water, walking their dogs, or browsing in the shops. We actually thought that there might be something on as we arrived but the parking attendant said 'It's just Bourton on a nice day'.
There's a model railway there (nice but small with 40 British and Continental trains running around - you could make them go by pushing buttons - so that's what I did much to the annoyance and amusement of some of the kids). There's also a car museum which Harry went to, while I wandered down the river taking photos of back yards and lots of wisteria. The museum has the original BRUM) - a small 1920's Austin 2 who sneaks out on the town and has adventures - a bit like Herbie - the film was made at the motor museum in Bourton. I hadn't heard of the BRUM (though wish I had seen the movie with the picture below and the following quote I googled)...
"The actors in Brum do not speak ... For this reason, it has been easy to prepare episodes for airing in other countries and Brum has been broadcast in many parts of the world and in many languages, including Italian, Dutch, Hebrew, Croatian, Arabic, Norwegian, Danish and Swedish".
We wandered around the little town, across the many stone bridges and into some of the little boutique shops. We discovered the little model village where we could wander around the same streets and over the same bridges we had just done but on a 1/9th replica scale. It is all made of Cotswold stone - very realistic - to add to its authenticity the model village even has a model village in the model village in the model village. It was completed by the owner of the Old New Inn (which stands in front of it and has the most wonderful dark red peonies in the garden) and was opened on the Coronation day of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth in 1937.
We finished the day by wandering through the local bird sanctuary where we saw for the first time a Cassawary (bird from Australia and New Guinea that looks a bit like a vicious emu), a bird with very long eyelashes (can't remember the name), king penguins (always feel sorry for these birds who like space and are out of their normal weather conditions - at least they were given some ice which progressively melted during the day) and lots of other birds we had seen, or not seen, before.
Driving back to Bristol we stopped firstly at Kemble Airport, which Harry wandered around and took lots of photos (particularly of Hunters) and I sat in the sunshine and read the paper, and then to IKEA (the shop I hate to go because you can't shop in a hurry and there is only one way in, and one way out, and you have to go right round the maze of display stands before finding the exit and the cashier) to buy a sofa bed for the lounge. The sofa just fitted into our little car and it sat in the cardboard box until Monday evening when we had the time and energy to unpack it (well Harry did while I was having a snooze). Saturday night we danced the night away at Sheila's 50th birthday party. During the evening the DJ asked for requests and so Harry asked for 'Grease' (we were the only couple on the dance floor at times so when the DJ said that 'he didn't want to play it because it might clear the floor' we were a bit confused. Anyway, he switched to a song (quite undanceable) apparently sung by 'Grace' and he got confused when we sat down. We soon put him right 'Grease' not 'Grace' was the request (he blamed Harry's accent I probably would blame his hearing!! We both had a laugh).
Sunday after a bit of a sleep in we headed off to Lynton and Lynmouth - this time south of Bristol - along the Devon coast. On the way we had a picnic on the Exmoor hills overlooking the sea towards Wales. We could see the smoke from the chimneys in Port Talbot, the long sandy beaches, and the cliffs around Cardiff. This is Lorna Doone country and it was difficult to picture it way back in the 17th century when farmer Jack Ridd and his family were threatened by the outlaws - the Doone family (originally Scottish aristocrats who were banished from their land - presumably at one point they were on the wrong side) and turned to a life of crime. RD Blackmore based his story of Lorna Doone on this family and it is one of those historical romances I hadn't read (but just might now that I have visited its setting). It has the same old theme - one of the Ridds meets Lorna and falls in love. How does it end I wonder? 
My desire to see Lynmouth, was spurred by one person telling me that they had spent a weekend in the area and another telling me they were taking their children to the beach for mid term break. I envisaged a sandy beach, where children could swim and build castles, and where Harry and I could find some space to lie in the sun, read newspapers and eat picnics. As we descended down the rather steep narrow road (for England anyway) we saw a little bit of sand, and many more rocks - we had arrived at low tide - we left at high tide where the rocks are all covered which creates an illusion of sand for miles. Villages affected by such a significant tidal swell have two different personalities and it is always good to see both. Lynmouth is tucked into a cove, with a Gorge at one end and cliffs at the other. We wandered up the Lyn Gorge. The river provides electricitiy for the town and the national grid - but was once the scene of a devasting land slide and flood. Back in 1952 more rain fell in one night than flows down the Thames in 3 months, taking with it houses, shops and sweeping boats out to sea. One quote we read at the local memorial included:
"About half-past nine there was a tremendous roar. The West Lyn had broken its banks and pushed against the side of the hotel, bringing with it thousands of tons of rocks and debris in its course. As we watched, we saw a row of cottages near the river, in the flashes of lightning because it was dark by this time, fold up like a pack of cards and swept out with the river with the agonising screams of some of the local inhabitants who I knew very well."
Lynmouth and Lynton are linked by a steep uphill path, a road, or a water powered cliff railway (built in 1890) - you can guess which one we took. It's the only water powered railway in the UK ... when the cable car gets to the top the tank underneath the car is filled with water and the weight pulls the empty one up. At the bottom the tank is emptied. By his rather ingenious method it can move cars up and down the 500 feet cliff all day (well between the hours of 10 and 7). I guess it is quite environmentally friendly as there are no emissions and we are assuming that they recycle the water. At Lynton we wandered over the hills to the cliff tops overlooking the Valley of the Rocks (have to go back there and explore more) and saw a cricket game played in full whites, said hello to wild goats, before having tea and wandering back down the hillside to the car.
Monday...was a little bit cloudy but lovely and warm, we were feeling a bit tired from all that walking the day before and so took a picnic to Malmesbury where we visited the Abbey House Gardens - Home of the Naked Gardeners (but only on certain days and today wasn't one of them). It's a beautiful garden with so many flowers I had not seen before, and some we had seen but couldn't name. We did recognise a huge number of irises, granneys bonnets, herbs, wisteria, tree with yellow flowers called a Laburnum (my gardening knowledge isn't really that good but google's is) and admired these while wandering up and down little paths to the Avon River and the little waterfall. The garden is built around the Abbey House, with the actual Malmesbury Abbey next door. It is a 12th century abbey, which Henry VIII sold in 1539 to a local cloth maker, who later gave it to Malmesbury ot use as their parish church - which it still is today - not a ruin like so many but a large magnificent church standing in a small village. The Abbey House was bought by the current owners in the early 1990's who obviously love gardening, in their birthday suits, and have made a life time committment to make a beautiful scene - however I felt a bit sad when I read this quote:
"Ian & Barbara now spend their every moment tending family and garden, rarely going further than the garden gates. “We can visit other gardens in our library of books and from our collection of DVD’s” says Barbara, “although I’m not sure our children will forgive us the lack of holidays away!”
and walking back to the car I saw a delightful quote
"1490 - Malmesbury's market cross is erected for poor market folkes to stande dry when raineth cummith".
It is also two years this week since we arrived in the UK with our 2 back packs and 2 suitcases. We went out for dinner, and rather reflectively thought about our adventures and our life in the UK.
On the back of the box of Twinings I read "Both black and green teas are a natural source of antioxidants which are also found in fruit and vegetables. These flavonoids are powerful antioxidants, which may help protect the body from the harmful effects of free radicals" - with that, and inspired by our trip to Shanghai, I decided it just has to be good for me. And engraved above the door of a church I noticed, while walking home from the station on Friday night (after a long and late train trip from Swansea because they had mislaid a 'critical member of staff' - perhaps the driver?), I read 'Strive to enter in the strait gate' - a reminder not always to take the long way round and perhaps next time to take the car. It has been a busy week, a bit of travelling for me to Tewkesbury as well (I don't really enjoy it much when we have been driving so much during the weekends) and for Harry another successful game of skittles. I also spent some of the evening looking at the Travelodge website as they had more specials on - and we booked for a few weekends away around the country - £9 and £19 - cheaper than camping in the rain!!
The papers are full of the MP indiscretions, who have stretched the rules to the limit on claims for second homes. Some may be within the rules but certainly not in the spirit, and some have already had some serious repercussions (eg lost their ministerial postings, while an aide has lost his job). Take for example the 2 MPs who claimed thousands for interest payments on their second home when they didn't have a mortgage, a husband and wife team both claiming for different second homes, another claiming four different second homes in a year - one in the name of his son and raking up huge renovation bills. There's also other claims for tree health checks, moat cleaning, kit kat bars, rather large and expensive televisions and sound systems - the list goes on - the Daily Telegraph has pages of it. Thankfully, there are a few honest MPs and their claims amounting to less than a couple of thousand a year have also been published. We continue to wonder who leaked the information - but I think the public will be eternally grateful - lets hope they never find out who.
On Saturday we drove up to Shropshire - Harry went to the RAF Cosford museum and I drove around to a rose garden (roses not out yet, though I thought they would be as our one rose in the garden is flowering prolifically against all odds eg wind, broken climbing frame and branches, lack of fertiliser and love) and Boscobel House. The house was built around 1630 by John Giffard and his family (strong Roman Catholics) and had a number of the priest holes used to hide important Catholics and Prince Charles (in hiding after his father King Charles I was executed in 1649). Charles (II after a while), tried to cross the River Severn into Wales but never quite made it because Oliver Cromwell's men blocked the way (up north the river is quite small and so if you can dog paddle, ride a horse, or are very tall, you probably could make it). Instead Charlie arrived at Boscobel and hid in the great oak in the paddock next to the house and then in a priest hole. The tree there today, is a 300 year old sapling from the original (rather hollow inside as old Oak Trees tend to be, and rather the worse for wear as it grows in rather an exposed area). Prince Charles (that's the current one) recently planted another sapling so that the memory of his ancestor hiding in the tree will be with the country for a long time to come. Back to the 1600's - the future Charles II also hid at a priory (the White Ladies Priory - named after the nuns dressed in undyed habits - ooh so itchy I think). I walked down the very muddy little lane and drove down a slightly wider one to get there, thinking that Harry should have washed the car this week and not last week (in some ways it is a blessing that we don't have off street parking, no tap outside in the front, and no extension cord long enough to vacuum clean as I get out of all the car cleaning duties as Harry does it occasionally at work). Later, after the patrols had given up hope of finding him he (Charlie that is) disguised himself and escaped to France. While standing looking at the Oak Tree, I did feel a certain gratefulness that I have never had the need to hide somewhere to protect my life or others close to me - I can't begin to imagine how awful that would be. Boscobel House was surrounded by a small flower garden and is still a working farm with a dairy, farmyard, smithy (well the tools were there and a few chickens, ducks, a peacock and doves). Funnily enough, when I went to the library on Sunday I found a book (without looking too hard) on Charles II and his Portuguese wife so spent some of a wet and cold Spring Sunday afternoon beginning to catch up on more English history (sounds like many an English person just might be related to Charles II as well as Henry XVIII).The priory it appears was the retirement home of Queen Guinevere after the death of King Arthur (would have been quite a nice home in the summer on the Shropshire Dales, but winter within those small stone walls would have been quite unpleasant I think). 
Harry's adventures at the museum go like this ...lots more aircraft that he hadn't see before like the Messerschmitt 410, a number of British prototype jet aircraft, a TSR2, Japanese Dinah and a Junkers JU52. It was quite hard to take good photos (he blames the small hangars and large number of aircraft) and was disapppointed that the cold war exhibition (includes 3 V bombers, Valiant, Victor and Vulcan) was closed due to unforeseen circumstances (looked like a collapsed corner of the roof). 'Just might have to go back' he says.
After the air museum, we looked at the map and decided we would take a leisurely trip through the countryside back to Bristol. It is light until 9.00ish now, and so finding interesting things along the way we could stop and linger. We found Bridgnorth - we have driven through it before but that was on the way to 'somewhere' and didn't stop. It is rather an interesting little place. First we took a ride on the Severn Valley Railway (not all the way to Kidderminster as we arrived rather late, and the timetable meant we would have been stranded at the end of the line). It was a 'Thomas' day, so discounted tickets (and no supplement to sit in the first class newly restored carriages) saw us steam through the countryside, across a couple of small viaducts, beside the Severn River. Volunteers were dressed up as signal men, guards, ticket officers resplendent in white shirts, black suits and tie- all taking their jobs very seriously, while the trains were dressed up as Thomas, Percy, Harry and Duke etc. Anyway, all that aside the railway has been around since 1862, but it began to dwindle after the railways were nationalised in 1948 and with the advent of the car. It closed in the late 1960's but reopened a few years later as a tourist attraction.
Bridgnorth Castle has been around since the early 1100's , well the remains of it anyway (it is reputed to be leaning more than the famous tower in Pisa - and I think they are probably right - certainly wouldn't withstand a earthquake of any great size). We parked in the Low town (built by the river - there are caves in the hills where the poor used to live, and where there was a plot to blow up the town by planting lots of explosives in the caves - it didn't work) and caught the cliff railway up to the Top town for some dinner and a walk around the quaint streets and steps. We wandered around St Leonards Church and the Close where there were alms houses, a hospital, school, homes for church workers, the granary, the old rectory and some fairly new expensive looking apartments. In the church grounds there is a stone coffin (well it looks like it) but apparently it is two bits of a horse trough with rings around the back to tie the horses up.
And then it was definitely time to drive back to Bristol.
There's a model railway there (nice but small with 40 British and Continental trains running around - you could make them go by pushing buttons - so that's what I did much to the annoyance and amusement of some of the kids). There's also a car museum which Harry went to, while I wandered down the river taking photos of back yards and lots of wisteria. The museum has the original BRUM) - a small 1920's Austin 2 who sneaks out on the town and has adventures - a bit like Herbie - the film was made at the motor museum in Bourton. I hadn't heard of the BRUM (though wish I had seen the movie with the picture below and the following quote I googled)...
Driving back to Bristol we stopped firstly at Kemble Airport, which Harry wandered around and took lots of photos (particularly of Hunters) and I sat in the sunshine and read the paper, and then to IKEA (the shop I hate to go because you can't shop in a hurry and there is only one way in, and one way out, and you have to go right round the maze of display stands before finding the exit and the cashier) to buy a sofa bed for the lounge. The sofa just fitted into our little car and it sat in the cardboard box until Monday evening when we had the time and energy to unpack it (well Harry did while I was having a snooze). Saturday night we danced the night away at Sheila's 50th birthday party. During the evening the DJ asked for requests and so Harry asked for 'Grease' (we were the only couple on the dance floor at times so when the DJ said that 'he didn't want to play it because it might clear the floor' we were a bit confused. Anyway, he switched to a song (quite undanceable) apparently sung by 'Grace' and he got confused when we sat down. We soon put him right 'Grease' not 'Grace' was the request (he blamed Harry's accent I probably would blame his hearing!! We both had a laugh).
Sunday after a bit of a sleep in we headed off to Lynton and Lynmouth - this time south of Bristol - along the Devon coast. On the way we had a picnic on the Exmoor hills overlooking the sea towards Wales. We could see the smoke from the chimneys in Port Talbot, the long sandy beaches, and the cliffs around Cardiff. This is Lorna Doone country and it was difficult to picture it way back in the 17th century when farmer Jack Ridd and his family were threatened by the outlaws - the Doone family (originally Scottish aristocrats who were banished from their land - presumably at one point they were on the wrong side) and turned to a life of crime. RD Blackmore based his story of Lorna Doone on this family and it is one of those historical romances I hadn't read (but just might now that I have visited its setting). It has the same old theme - one of the Ridds meets Lorna and falls in love. How does it end I wonder? 
My desire to see Lynmouth, was spurred by one person telling me that they had spent a weekend in the area and another telling me they were taking their children to the beach for mid term break. I envisaged a sandy beach, where children could swim and build castles, and where Harry and I could find some space to lie in the sun, read newspapers and eat picnics. As we descended down the rather steep narrow road (for England anyway) we saw a little bit of sand, and many more rocks - we had arrived at low tide - we left at high tide where the rocks are all covered which creates an illusion of sand for miles. Villages affected by such a significant tidal swell have two different personalities and it is always good to see both. Lynmouth is tucked into a cove, with a Gorge at one end and cliffs at the other. We wandered up the Lyn Gorge. The river provides electricitiy for the town and the national grid - but was once the scene of a devasting land slide and flood. Back in 1952 more rain fell in one night than flows down the Thames in 3 months, taking with it houses, shops and sweeping boats out to sea. One quote we read at the local memorial included:
Lynmouth and Lynton are linked by a steep uphill path, a road, or a water powered cliff railway (built in 1890) - you can guess which one we took. It's the only water powered railway in the UK ... when the cable car gets to the top the tank underneath the car is filled with water and the weight pulls the empty one up. At the bottom the tank is emptied. By his rather ingenious method it can move cars up and down the 500 feet cliff all day (well between the hours of 10 and 7). I guess it is quite environmentally friendly as there are no emissions and we are assuming that they recycle the water. At Lynton we wandered over the hills to the cliff tops overlooking the Valley of the Rocks (have to go back there and explore more) and saw a cricket game played in full whites, said hello to wild goats, before having tea and wandering back down the hillside to the car. 
Monday...was a little bit cloudy but lovely and warm, we were feeling a bit tired from all that walking the day before and so took a picnic to Malmesbury where we visited the Abbey House Gardens - Home of the Naked Gardeners (but only on certain days and today wasn't one of them). It's a beautiful garden with so many flowers I had not seen before, and some we had seen but couldn't name. We did recognise a huge number of irises, granneys bonnets, herbs, wisteria, tree with yellow flowers called a Laburnum (my gardening knowledge isn't really that good but google's is) and admired these while wandering up and down little paths to the Avon River and the little waterfall. The garden is built around the Abbey House, with the actual Malmesbury Abbey next door. It is a 12th century abbey, which Henry VIII sold in 1539 to a local cloth maker, who later gave it to Malmesbury ot use as their parish church - which it still is today - not a ruin like so many but a large magnificent church standing in a small village. The Abbey House was bought by the current owners in the early 1990's who obviously love gardening, in their birthday suits, and have made a life time committment to make a beautiful scene - however I felt a bit sad when I read this quote:
It is also two years this week since we arrived in the UK with our 2 back packs and 2 suitcases. We went out for dinner, and rather reflectively thought about our adventures and our life in the UK.
