Airshows, Palaces and Gardens

Hook - a little village with a name in bold on the map situated close to Farnborough in Hampshire - or is it that little village in Wiltshire only about an hour out of Bristol that we saw on a map for the first time while driving along the M4 on Friday afternoon on the way to our hotel in Hook. We can see the importance of postcodes in a country where there are so many little towns with names that are not unique especially when we were looking on a map and discovered a third Hook in the next county (three within about a 100 miles). Thankfully, our hotel was in the village close to the airshow or we would have still had to get up early on Saturday morning to get Harry there in time to see all the exhibits before the first aeroplane took flight. Indeed on Friday night as we pulled up to our 18th century hotel with a falling down granary at the back (we were given a room in the recent addition at the back in the same architectural design), Harry opened the car door and heard the 'melodious' sound (it is all in the ears of the beholder) of 6 Rolls Royce Merlin engines attached to a Lancaster, a Spitfire and a Hurricane flying over head - he looked like a little boy with a new toy. Saturday morning we were up before the birds (well Harry was and I did eventually get up once the birds began to chirp and I realised that a cup of tea was all I was going to get). While Harry spent all Saturday looking at those magnificent men in their flying machines I visited Godalming firstly for breakfast, then a riverside walk, then a wander into a shoe shop. It is a nice little village but you probably wouldn't go there unless your partner was at an airshow close by. It seemed to be well known for being the family town of John Phillips - what part in history did he play you might ask as there is a park and a street named after him as well as a memorial that described his short life. Sadly his family and townsfolk knew him as the Chief Wireless Telegraphist on the maiden voyage of the Titanic.

I then drove through some lovely Surrey countyside, down lanes lined with large trees (rather than the more typical flat fields of the South East), roads sprinkled with alternating raindrops and sunlight, through cute little villages (with few thatched cottages as this is not the Cotswolds). After visiting Hasledean another little village I realised once again that shopping is not my thing and I redirected myself to where I really had planned to go, but hadn't quite made it. Map reading and driving are difficult at the best of times, but in England it is made so much worse with so many roundabouts, intersections and little towns - at least you don't get lost it is just the 'don't know where I am' syndrome as if I had broken down (I mean the car) I would never have been able to describe to someone where I was. Finally I stumbled across the Rural Farm museum, just outside Tilford, which is where I planned to begin my day some hours earlier. I was not the only person there without a child and it had enough to keep me and the others occupied for a while. I was expecting some farm yard animals (found a few black faced sheep close to an old plough but besides that it was only the occasional rabbit and bird). I came to the realisation that the principles of farm equipment have remained the same throughout the centuries, plough the fields, plant the seed, harvest the crop, feed, dip and protect the animals but what has changed is the time and energy saving component so farmers can achieve more in a day rather than relaxing. I enjoyed the visit because every little museum like this has a couple of unique features. The classroom looked fairly typical - long bench desks, black boards and inkwells - but there were photos of teachers, classes and some exhibits which did show that learning could be fun, and that the function of the ruler was to measure rather than discipline. However, there was a label that little Welsh children had to wear with 'Welsh not' as a reminder if they dared to speak Welsh in the classroom. Haven't times changed, now all signs in Wales are bilingual and we are still trying to pronounce most of the words with a kiwi accent as we drive along their roads. In the fields was a Gypsy caravan, gardens made from old ploughs and farming equipment, a shepherds hut, 18th Century granary (on mushroom shaped piles designed to stop rodents from getting to the food also known as saddle, straddle, staddle or steddle stones). The granary was made with 'mathematical tiles' very thin slate tiles, rather than the normal brick, that interlocked together which required no concrete designed to be cheaper I think and to avoid to the 'brick tax' of the 18th century. Interestingly when we returned to our hotel, the 18th Century granary had the same piles. The little church was made from logs which had bark falling off it - very NZ like - and the prefab house designed during the Atlee era to cheaply house the many families who lost their homes from either the pre war slum clearance or damage from the war and the restriction on building new homes between the wars are still in existence today in some parts of England. There were also some interesting advertising 'Mrs Peels puddings' were the answer to the question 'Can a warden be a good wife?' apparently they meant that a woman could be a full time warden during the war and still provide a hot pudding (boil the tin) for her husband at night, trouser suit pyjamas were advertised as the ideal war shelter clothes for the fashion conscious when forced to spend the night in a public shelter, and a pregnant or breast feeding mother could get rations of orange juice and Vitamin A and D tablets. As I sat having a picnic in the car park I looked up and saw some aeroplanes which Harry later identified as Bell BA 609. I was surprised that the noise from the airshow was generally not particularly loud - Haz says it is because modern aircraft don't make so much noise.

Also while Harry watched aeroplanes I visited Losely House (which I found quite easily but not by reading the map - brown signposts marking places of interest on the side of the road can be helpful). The house I think was well known by the locals more for its garden than the history of the house. The home of the More and Molyneux families for over 500 years. The walled garden was one of those little country ones (well not that little it covered 2.5 acres) was designed by Gertrude Jekyll (no idea who she was but the name has a ring to it that appeals) with lots of annuals planted (there is a rose garden, a white garden, a herb garden, and a organic vegetable garden as well as an exhibition of statues and a maple tree planted by Queen Elizabeth 1st during her visit - which I don't think I got a photo of). The wisteria would have been a picture but I missed that - just a little bit late. There was also a garden show which people left laden with shopping bags of plants, statues and garden furniture but as you had to pay to go into that and since I wasn't intending to buy anything I didn't bother. The tour of the bottom story of the house was 3 or 4 rooms, dining, library, drawing, lounge. The guide told us about windows facing north made the house very cold but it is because the home owners of the time believed that the germs came over from the continent and they would have more trouble getting into the house if they had to go around it (I guess that last few feet after fighting against that cold wind from the North might have been the last straw) but I had always been told it was to avoid furniture getting faded. Also was told that you showed your wealth by the number of chimneys, ceilings and windows your house had. Chimneys haven't been around that long and before that fires were lit and smoke simply floated up to the rafters and I guess eventually escaped through the tiles or the thatched roof (one way of killing rodent that lived in the rafters I guess). Rich people then put in chimneys, which meant they could put in ceilings complete with intricate decorations and gold. Glass was expensive which is why small panes were separated between lead to reduce the cost of the windows (and I guess to avoid daylight taxes). Queen Elizabeth 1 visited the house, which is why she planted the maple tree but it was built for her because she refused to come to the previous home - not quite good enough for royalty. When she arrived she refused to sleep in the bedroom specially decorated for her as it had north facing windows (did she want to catch germs or not!!). Apparently being asked to invite the royal family was a mixed blessing as they usually stayed for a month and the host and hostess were expected to feed and house the royal visitors and their entourage (about 200-300 staff who slept and lived outside without ablutions and sanitation). Imagine the perfume after a while - an unclean stable could smell better I think and not even the fragrant garden would hide the odour. The family then left the host and hostess to clean up and pay all the bills. Then back to pick up Harry, in a rather long and round about way, getting stuck in long queues of traffic and heading in the wrong direction at least twice before finding somewhere I could stop and ask for directions (hints are don't follow empty buses because they were going back to the airshow - and Harry was waiting at the railway station and don't follow full buses as they are likely to be heading out of town to other popular destinations like London!!). Harry was waiting at the station laden with his 300 odd photos, and a bit sun burnt, he had had a great day. I raced into the station to go to the loo and found I couldn't get into the loos without a ticket for a train (a nice official let me in after my desperate plea) and then found I couldn't get out of the station without a ticket to say I had paid for my train trip I didn't have - thankfully the nice official remembered me and let me out (I think I still looked desperate). The memorial parts of the airshow from Harry's perspective were seeing the:

• Vulcan - one of its first public outings since it was rebuilt - at one stage they thought the cross winds would prevent it from flying but in the end it gave a great display. The only time in flew in combat was during the Falkland War
• Bell BA - 609 civil prototype of the Tilt Rotor concept that the US military have flying in the Osprey
• Sea Hawk - only flying example of one of the royal navy's jet fighters
• Red Arrows - seen before but still impressed and the heart says 'still love it'
• A380 - spectacular slow speed flying display and tremendous tight turns at slow speeds

Next day we avoided the traffic and headed for Beaconsfield to the Bekonscot model village where Caramello had lots of fun with the other children. The village is on a 1.5 acre landscape and as you walk around you are followed by a miniature railway. Enid Blyton lived for 30 years around here but we couldn't find a museum showing her life history which would have been fun to look at but her house stood grandly in the village with Noddy outside. The Village is modelled on the 1930's and the zoo was certainly what I used to see as a child (not that I was around in the 1930's), little bears in concrete confines with a little bit of water, giraffes in small fields - how far we have come in now caring for their life style and future. There was everything you could want when living in a village including fire engines, airport, bus stations, road works, sports grounds - cricket, soccer, rugby, croquet, tennis, bowls - houses, pubs, windmills, fair ground, farms, town halls, churches and so on. Apparently, it is quite a treat for young royals as there was a photo of an 8 year old Princess Elizabeth enjoyed her birthday treat there.

Then onto Blenheim Palace, - steeped in history - extensive grounds built as a thank you from Queen Anne to John Churchill the Duke of Marlborough (ancestor to the Spencer and Churchill families ie a great, great, great ... of Diana and Winston) for winning the Blindham War in Bavaria 1704. The monument was erected and the building of the palace began in 1705 to be completed 28 years later. It was designed by Sir John Vanburgh and is described as a 'masterpiece of English Baroque architecture' - in my mind that means symmetrical. Some of the rooms were quite spectacular with huge paintings and tapestrys - but quite similar to many of the other magnificent buildings we have seen in our short time here. There was a very big collection of 'Chinese' ornaments and dining sets but I never could quite find out the connection. During a domestic tour we learnt that staff often kept the name of the previous incumbent so it was easier for the owners to remember their names and that footmen (whose main job was to run along side the coach and to stop it from falling over during fast manoeuvring around tight corners - until one died from exhaustion and then I think they took on a new role) were paid by their height but the Duke only employed footmen who were 6 foot (did he have a taller carriage than others?). It is set in 2,100 acres of parkland landscaped by 'Capability' Brown - ie all man made including the waterfall, lake, hills and valleys. The rose garden was lovely, but smaller than the one in the Wellington Botanical Gardens and you could smell the perfume from quite a long way away. Had tea outside in the garden (needed scones and cream to complete the picture). Churchill, who was born there in 1874, got engaged (He asked for Henrietta's hand at the Diana temple in the garden), and also got married there, and was buried somewhere close by. I didn't know he was also quite a good artist (Haz did) and he had quite a strong personal relationship with Mr Hall who created the Hallmark cards. It was fascinating to see Churchill's paintings as greeting cards and to see the history of the well known card and politician. I have decided I will have to stop romanticising the lives of famous politicians, painters, writers etc as we went to see the 'Edge of Love' at the movies (queue to 15 or so theatres was as long as from the Embassy to the Opera House nearly - Mamma Mia was just opening and Indiana Jones was on as well as the 2 for 1 Wednesday deals). The movie was about Dylan Thomas's life - since visiting his boat house in Laugharne I have had romantic thoughts of contentment and peace but the film portrayed him as a womaniser and bludger who made others lives quite unbearable. I am sure there was some poetic license (get the pun) but probably there was a reality of truth in it as well. Back to Blenheim Palace... While at the palace we were spectators at an Indian Wedding. The bride arrived in a white horse drawn carriage and the groom on a horse accompanied by drummers. One of the rooms in the place was organised ready for the reception - 80 people I thought that could just be a manageable on our incomes - but then went into a larger room where there was seating for another 270 (yes I did count the number of tables and multiplied it by the number of chairs at each table) which had tv screens so they could see what was happening in the more intimate room. Lovely menu of indian food only half of which I recognised - obviously not from the local takeaway.

Thought for the day - I saw this plaque at the model village and it made me think about how much we enjoy taking photos and writing the blog. Without them we would still have a great time, but our memories would not recall all those special little things that happen along the way. We have hundreds of photos and each weekend there might be two really special ones which I will put into an album one day (the white hydrangeas in my photo with the grey sky is my pick for this weekend where I think Harry's might be one of an aeroplane).

This week Harry joined the skittles club....

No Airshow for Haz

5.45 wake up call - Harry was off to the RIAT airshow and I was catching a train down to Dawlish for the day. As Harry drove me down to the station, the BBC kindly informed him that he wasn't going to the airshow after all. It had rained very heavily during the night and all the car parking was flooded. I remember last year, it was very muddy underfoot and we had to be careful where we put our blanket to have our lunch and avoid the puddles as we parked the car in the field. It was not a bad day for an airshow but even a better day on the Sunday - but again it was cancelled due to flooded carparks - the first time ever - a huge disappointment for the thousands of aircraft enthusiasts and of course the organisers. The only consolation is that it is Farnborough next weekend, so something to look forward to. So, Harry decided to catch the train with me down to Dawlish. I had read in the paper recently that rail tickets were up to 40% more expensive if you bought them on the day - and guess what Harry's ticket was exactly 40% higher - worth every penny I might add to have his company - but you do wonder how they can justify it. We arrived in Dawlish, a little seaside village and the first thing we saw was an amusement centre with a helicopter outside - it was unfortunate Harry was a bit big to sit inside as it was the closest thing he got to an aeroplane all day.
Thankfully, the amusement centre and a bingo hall were the only hi-de-hi type activities in Dawlish which proved to be a lovely seaside village. One of the pamphlets I picked up described Dawlish as a seaside village 'with a pretty little babbling brook, which gurgles merrily past the Museum, bowling green and newly restored water wheel, through the colourful Pleasure Gardens, with their tropical palms and famous Black Swans, before tumbling into the Blue Flag waters of Lyme Bay'. Being rather parched when we arrived and because the Tourist Information Centre wasn't yet open we went to a tea shop for tea and toasted tea cakes (we are beginning to like this English tradition and prefer it to Devonshire Teas as we still can't get used to the clotted cream on the scones - Harry likened something about a movement in the car engine to whipping cream the other day but his students didn't know what he was talking about as they had never whipped cream before - I can remember as a child taking a jar of milk to school and I (and others) would spend all day shaking it up to make cream and then butter - boy have the English kids missed out!!!). Anyway, back to the cafe...the menu included a variety of meals and all day breakfasts as well as the tea cakes and you could order 'Potatoes instead of chips' or 'Beans instead of beans' if you preferred. We didn't know the difference between a big Bean and a little bean, but it made us laugh and we can only hope the chef did. We did see some of the famous Black Swans in the brook and at the souvenir shop you could buy a little black swan if you so desired. Black swans have been around Dawlish for a long time (probably before mankind actually) but during the war they decided to leave for a while. Soon after a family donated 2 swans to the town and hence the swan family grew once more and they are now the emblem of the town. You can adopt one, or a goose or a duck, if you want to with the money contributing to the care and well-being of the bird life in Dawlish (I wonder if that includes sea gulls - there was an article on the news about a woman being attacked by a gull as she wandered along a popular beach front the other day).




We then walked a couple of miles along the concrete wall between the red cliffs and the railway on one side and the beach on the other to Dawlish Warren. During high tide this walk isn't passable if you want to keep your feet dry but we had timed it quite nicely and managed to get both ways without having to take the high road away from the coast. The nature reserve is on the sand spit looking over to Exmouth (where we were a couple of weeks ago with Sheila and Paul) and we were looking forward to seeing lots of different birds - but besides oyster catchers and gulls (again they showed their scavenger side by stealing someone's donuts) there were no other birds as apparently most do not migrate here until about August - we had timed it wrong again - sometimes a bit of research would be good - but then I think we would want to do everything in only a few days. Anyway, there were a few bird watchers out (but not as many as there were train spotters with their cameras and tripods on the platforms we sped past in the morning). There was a golf course running through the middle of the reserve and we passed a couple of signs warning us to'watch out for that golf ball sailing over our head' and 'not to stop and look at the estuary as it could hold the game up'. Brunel was evident in the history of the town, as he had helped design and build the South Devon Coast Railway and created the stationary steam engines that created vacuums to push the train between them (which was meant to work better because the moving engine was lighter but it apparently turned out to be a big user of coal so the experiment only lasted a year. For more info ask Harry cos that was enough for me!!). The railway, did seem to take a prominent part right along the coast line as it runs between cliffs and the sea and you can hear the whistle of the train long before you see it.



Sunday - summer arrived but by lunch time it had gone again - in saying that it is quite warm, but the clouds and breeze arrived to make it not quite sitting on the beach weather. We decided to have a walk along a path in Wales and England - it is right on the border and so you sort of cross the border more than once - customs agents must have been busy once. Offa's Dyke is a 273 kilometre ditch and wall that virtually follows the Welsh/English border and was they think built by Offa, King of Mercia from 757 to 796 AD. The ditch was built on the Welsh side, they think so that you can see the view of the Welsh countryside. Offa's kingdom covered the area between the Trent/Mersey rivers in the North to the Thames Valley in the South, and from the Welsh border in the West to the Fens in the East (I had to get a map out for that geography lesson). As originally constructed, it must have been about 27 metres wide and 8 metres from the ditch bottom to the bank top. The track didn't give the impression of that width (in some parts we scrambled through uncut bushes only a few centimetres wide). We didn't walk it all today - in fact very little of it, because we discovered that after about 1 km it met back up with the road in more than one place. So we did little stretches, driving in between, before ending up in St Briavels looking at a Castle built by St John in 1200 AD which is now a Youth Hostel. What a cool place to stay for a few days. There was an article recently about hostels becoming not just a place for poor young travellers but they are becoming quite upmarket and appealing to all ages. This seemed to be the case - historical appeal from the outside looked great - I suspect the inside was done up quite nicely but we couldn't get through the big heavy wooden doors to have a thorough look around. We drove down more narrow country lanes and even saw a 'Watch out for the cat' sign before coming home.



So, the weekend was another one of seeing new and different things. It started well with me having Friday at home (thanks to flexitime) and spending time doing housework and shopping at a leisurely pace - I decided it isn't too bad having to do it once in a while!! A well known woman when interviewed about what she didn't like about holidays said 'the coming home, the unpacking, doing the washing, opening all the mail and getting back to routine' - I know just how she feels as I feel it most Sunday evenings - that feeling that it is over but I am very grateful for the opportunity to do so much and there is always the next working week and weekend to look forward to. I think we have quite a good combination really as being the tourist full time could lose its novelty after a while and work enables us to meet friends and get our brain stimulated. Most of the news over here is predicting a worsening economic situation with 1 in 8 houseowners with a mortgage greater than the value of their house - there was a cartoon in one of the papers that had a couple talking to their bank manager who was advising them 'if you want to buy a cheaper house why don't you buy your own'. Funny, but not if you are in that situation. On a brighter note there is a blackbird that mimics ambulance sirens and cell phones, apparently very rare in that bird but not so in others such as the tui or the Australian lyre. We heard him and indeed he sounded just like a siren - the news reader said he was calling for a 'parrot medic'. Also for £5000 you can cruise around New Zealand stopping off at the Bay of Islands, Tauranga, Napier, Wellington, Christchurch - train trip to West Coast, Milford Sound and Dunedin - lets hope the weather stays good for those with the money to buy the ticket.

Another type of airshow

This weekend we were treated to a magnificent flying display. Not of man made machinery but one created by nature that presumably inspired many an aircraft inventor and designer. Skomer Island is a bird sanctuary off the west coast of Wales at the end of St Bride's Bay and close to the most Western coast of Wales. It is home to the Puffin, which have the island as their home for a couple of months a year during the breeding season. Unlike other birds they nest in hollows (like rabbits) but I could understand why when I saw the exposed cliffs close by. They are so cute and looked at us inquisitively as they strutted across the footpath a metre in front of us and came out of their holes to pose for photos before returning to check on their young. The Puffin has a very short wingspan so when they fly they flap their wings madly and look as though they will never make it to the sea to catch fish or back to the cliff to feed their young. We wandered around Skomer Island for a few hours, looking at the the gulls (they seemed far more attractive and at home here than when they were trying to steal our fish and chips in Beer), Razorbills, Curlews and some other birds we didn't recognise, saw a seal swimming in the sea, and a little rabbit and hunted for gannets and albatrosses and porpoises with no luck. As we sat on a rock eating our lunch and watching the birds fly over we discussed the flying display and imagined that the designers got their inspiration for the U2 from the Seagull, for the F16 from the Curlew and the Starfighter from the Puffins. It could be quite a challenge to take an aircraft book and a bird book and see how many you could match up. The island was covered in little white daisies, in June it would have been blue bells, and in August the pretty pink scottish heather. So, what ever month you go to see the puffins you can see them amongst blue, white or pink.






The island is rather exposed having no land to the south-west to protect it from the Atlantic gales. It has magnificent currents around it that whip up the sea and create rather a large swell (I imagine it could get like Cook Strait quite easily). They say that the weather is quite mild, with little more than 30 inches of rain a year, though the weather is changeable with frequent strong winds and an average of about 31 gales a year - that's more than one a fortnight - how could the weather be mild?? So, why am I talking so much about the weather. Well, the weekend was our first camping weekend with our new tent. We headed off early on Friday evening and drove the 3 hours to Hasguard to a tent site that we discovered was perched on top of a hill with no protection from the wind or rain. On the way over we decided the rain would hold off at least until we were tucked up inside but no such luck. We pitched it in pouring rain and howling wind to the amusement of other campers. We did get an offer of help but by that time we had managed to stop the tent from blowing away with the help of the car strategically placed to offer some protection. (The campsite owner had wanted us to put the car on the other side so it would set us apart from other tents - but we disagreed since there were only 2 other sets of happy campers wisely staying indoors a long way away from us - she was none too impressed - but we didn't care!). We ate our salad in our tent longing for a hot dinner cooked by someone else and then went to bed. Our kiwi sleeping bags were warm - that's the good news. All night the wind howled through the pine trees, hit the tent with a force that left us wondering if it could survive another onslaught, and then the rain pelted down - then a breather for a couple of minutes giving us hope but we soon realised the weather was teasing us and the cycle started all over again. Amazingly in the morning after only a couple of hours sleep we woke to sunshine - wet air mattresses (where the tent had hit them all night), lots of mud and sludge and wind. We climbed, out and hit the road to find a shelter to cook our breakfast sausages, but ended up eating the left over cold dinner before the rain came down again for most of the day. We drove around, down narrow country roads but each time we got out of the car the rain began again (and it wasn't a drizzle). We wandered down a little path to see Ramsay Island from a distance and the life boat house but ended up in a cafe in Milford Haven (Welsh name is Aberdaugleddau - try saying that a few times). We saw a Gun Tower and thought 'it's dry lets go inside'. The Gun Tower sits proudly on the foreshore of Milford Haven. It was built in 1851 and in the Victorian times, soldiers lived there and manned the cannon on the top of the tower. Over 250 ships were built at the Pembroke dockyard near by, and many Australians and New Zealanders operated ships and flying boats from the nearby port. It was quite interesting but we didn't stay long - long enough for me to warm myself by the heater and for the sun to come out - and so we decided to stay another night - no not in the tent (it took 5 minutes to take down and throw in the boot - incidentally it rained again as we arrived to take it down) but a little hotel built in 1878 - one of the oldest buildings in Milford Haven (where the landlord told us that he was very busy with contractors for the liquid gas industry, but had room at the inn for us for the night and where we learnt the pub regularly got flooded with about 4 feet of water in the downstairs bar room (due to inadequate drainage and the high tide coming up through the drains - sounds a bit like Venice). Anyway, we welcomed a 'dry' bed and hoped it didn't mean we would have to catch a canoe out the next morning.





It was actually touch and go if we could go to Skomer - they delayed the decision for a couple of hours waiting for swell to go down. While, we waited we walked around the headland watching the sea, its currents whip up a great display, and looking down at the white water hitting the rocks. Quite a magnificent view and though we would have been a bit disappointed at not seeing the Puffins, the view was worth the walk.
I know we do get up to some mad things occasionally but I doubt we will ever do what a 78-year-old did during the week. He ran out of money after a night out in Denmark, stole a dinghy and tried to row home to Sweden! The man was found sound asleep drifting in one of the busiest shipping lanes in the world. It was back to Swansea on Monday for work and guess what - it rained!!
Mike moved to Sydney on Tuesday morning and Bex will follow not long after. He has a great job opportunity and has set up his own recruitment company with some friends. If you know of any graduates wanting a job in either Aussie or New Zealand they might like to have a look at his new website - there is a link on our blog home page - Mike's gradconnection.