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.
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