The first week of November

Last Saturday we moved home. We now own three car loads of stuff (a bit more than our two suitcases and two back packs that we brought over from NZ). Our little yellow car was packed high with plastic bags and boxes and cases for the first two trips and on our third trip we managed to squeeze our bikes into the back. The trip from house to house took a few detours before we worked out which way was the quickest and by the time we had crawled up the hill in traffic more than once I had visions of needing oxygen after biking up the hill after work on Monday. I was pleased to see there is a medical centre right on the corner so I wouldn’t have had far to go!! I just wasn’t looking forward to it at all – in fact it spoilt my Monday. When I mentioned the hill to Frannie in an email (she is our friend from Wellington – a Bristolian who owns our new home) she laughed and all she could say was ‘ but you come from Wellington’). Anyway Monday evening was here – dark as daylight saving finished in the weekend, but a lovely calm, warm autumn evening - and we started our ride home slowly, pacing ourselves, and mentally preparing ourselves for the uphill battle. Half way up, I said to Harry ‘this isn’t so bad’ and all he could say was ‘the steep bit is yet to come’ – we arrived at the top and laughed – no steeper bits, quicker than expected and not even puffing. So, either we are extra fit or crawling in traffic makes it feel like a whole lot longer. The road we come up has a cycle path most of the way and it seems to be a main route for cyclists. We all stop at lights and when they turn green the cars behind us have to wait for us to pick up speed and go back into line before they can pass. Quite funny really, made me think of photos of China and such where there are heaps of cyclists everywhere and no room for cars. Can some of those cyclists go – I’m going to be like them when I grow up!! Anyway, there are heaps of cafes, pubs, hairdressers, second hand shops, take away shops and superettes along the street and so we already feel that everything is close at hand and we will enjoy living here. Not far away is the zoo and the stadiums where the Bristol rugby and football teams play. What more could we want. The dining room looked like a rubbish tip for a while with all our belongings piled into it but we have managed to clean it up and put up some photos so it is now feeling a bit more like home. Jan said to me that it took her about 3 months to be able to put up photos without feeling sad and I think it has taken me a bit longer. Now, when I look at my family and friends I realise that I am so lucky and they make me feel good rather than sad. Our new house is a Coronation Street style home with 2 large bedrooms, a lovely kitchen and two living areas. Our kiwi friends that came round for dinner on Friday night said – ‘a real house’ – big compared to the little one we were boarding in and compared to their 1 bedroom flat. We have little furniture so it feels empty but I am sure that will change over time. I am bringing some of the pot plants from outside inside to create a bit more of a ‘homely’ feeling and with the photos it should work well. We are looking forward to spending many a summer evening in the garden having barbeques with friends. I have been working late this week due to a busy time (but flexitime is great cos it means I can take a day off occasionally without using up leave) and Harry met me one evening at work. He had to wait by the bike rack as I was running a bit late and I heard the next day that the security guard was seriously concerned that he might be a terrorist planting a bomb in the bike shed - I had to include a photo to show you how he looked in the dark (you have to imagine the light shining on his helmet). I giggled all day over this and did think that conspicuous clothing could be quite a good camouflage for a terrorist. On a more serious note though we also realised that in this country ‘we are all under suspicion’ something we aren’t really used to. Anyway from terrorist to.... This Saturday we went to the fireworks display to celebrate Guy Fawkes. We rode our bikes there and wandered around the park and at least 2 people asked us what time the fireworks was starting – we realised that they thought we were security guards because like them we were wearing our bright yellow clothing. Another woman then came up and looked at us and said ‘ you aren’t security guards are you’ and when we said no we volunteered the starting time which is what she wanted to know. Anyway, judge for yourself security guard to terrorist!!

The fireworks were quite different to over in NZ – done to music and intermingled with the story of Guy Fawkes. I didn’t know the background really but he was a Catholic upset with Henry XIII for starting the protestant church back in 1605 (could have had something to do with Henry killing the Catholics off). Earlier in the day at Gloucester we were at a museum reading about a protestant Minister (John Hooper) killed by Queen Mary who didn’t like protestants. Both Guy and John ended up with the same fate but slightly different methods which I won’t go into. The week was also Poppy week in Britain, commemorating Armistice day and also Halloween. Some people go in for Halloween in quite a big way, dressing up their houses to welcome their guests – but us like many others went out to avoid any visitors (some people at work admitted to hiding in their back rooms). Apparently Britain has passed a law about not selling flour or eggs to people 15 or under 2 weeks before Halloween cos they used to bombard houses of ‘ungenerous souls’. When we got back from shopping (exchanging our microwave which didn’t go) our house had managed to escape the eggs and flour and any other unwanted goodies. Saturday (the first in November) dawned sunny and warm and as we hadn’t done any sight seeing last weekend we were keen to head off and we chose Gloucester – a town about 30 miles north of Bristol. We wandered around the docks and saw the ‘tall ships’ from last weeks festival that we didn’t get to because of the moving. We were told this week that the festival only that 3 ships and they looked as though they were all there today - two in dry dock. The only difference was the weather was sunny, you couldn’t go on the boats and their wasn’t any music. We then wandered around the town, saw some old pubs (including the Dick Whittington – which is where he hales from with his cat), went to a folk museum (it had a big tree trunk with a hole going through from end to end and was part of the water mains to the original city and a few other interesting things like a pin making machine,16th century wall decorations, a penny farthing and the most amazing uneven wooden floor – fun for playing marbles on I reckon), went to the Beatrix Potter shop (she stayed with her cousins in Gloucester and met a tailor which inspired her book ‘The Tailor of Gloucester’ – he left a half finished waist coat one night in his shop and the next day came back to find it all completed except for one button hole as they had run out of thread), had a peak at the cathedral and some 16th century buildings which now all seem to be fish and chip shops. The Cross Keys Inn was fascinating – another building with drooping ceilings and sloping floors and one which I would like to stay in one night. Also saw the house where John Stafford Smith was born – he wrote the American National anthem and the first Sunday school (many children can be thankful for that invention).

On our way home as the sun was setting we stopped at Saul Crossing – where canels meet and canel boats moor. A lovely end to the day, sitting by the canel having a cup of tea and enjoying the peaceful scenery and the autumn colours.

Beaches and Countryside in Wales

This weekend we explored the beaches and countryside of south and west Wales. It had promised to be a sunny (but chilly) weekend and with daylight saving finishing next weekend we decided to make the most of the daylight left. We picked Anne up and drove to Swansea and Mumbles. We had been there before but the weather had been mistyand this time we could actually see the beach, harbour and hills rather than look longingly at the them in postcards and the newspaper. We introduced Anne to our picnic lunches (the standard bacon buttie) and then wandered along the pier. Wales is well known for its steel mines as well as coal and the beautiful iron work everywhere is testament to this. So, is the piles of slag and quarried hills which scar the hillsides but we won’t go into that! There are some lovely beaches down in the Gower, some little and some much bigger, all covered with a pinkish reddish sand and no mud!!!! Were we impressed. There were the very brave children out swimming (beginning of mid term break), surfers sitting hopefully waiting for a wave which didn’t seem to appear, and the walkers (like us decked out in warm clothes enjoying the gentle breeze and cold salt air). We explored a little 6 century church of St Illtard overlooking the long Oxwich beach and wandered around the cemetery looking for those deceased that just might be related to our family'se (there isn’t much hope of people buried there with our surnames but those more distant rellies with English sounding names is a possibility though it would appear remote if ‘to date’ is an indication). Anyway, it doesn’t seem a depressing thing to do but quite natural visiting a little church on the hillside!! Most of the old gravestones have either fallen over or you can’t read the writing. The church on the hill over looking the beach was fairly typical of little country churches - access is on a windy and hilly path - must have been difficult for the disabled many years ago. Although the life spans of many of the people is quite short and it is quite noticeable that the parishioner lived shorter lives than the priests and clergy.

The other noticeable thing about Wales is that there are a lot more farm animals enjoying the open air here compared to England – though it does appear still far less than in New Zealand. Lots of sheep with black, white or brown faces, cows, horses and a few spotted pigs were on view this weekend. The highlight of the day came next. One thing about not reading up about where you are going before you go is that we are constantly surprised (and on the downside we never know what we have missed so could miss some quite special things). Rhossili Bay is at the end of a road going no where. It is a little town perched on a cliff really and we were intrigued by a house which must be one of ‘loneliest’ we have seen so far (though we think Northern Scotland might have a few winners as well). Would you believe this little town had a hotel and a bed and breakfast and they were both fully booked – we think either by surfers waiting for some waves or those wanting to walk across to the island at night. But anyway no room at the inn for us. What a lovely scene walking over the cliffs – if we had spent the night there – the beach would have beckoned us in the morning. Around low tide you can wander across the rocks to Worm Head (we decided it looked more like the Lochness Monster or a dinosaur but those naming it many years ago probably didn’t know that Lochy or the dinorsaur existed – so we forgave them). People were waiting expectantly for low tide and while we were there began to wander across the wet rocks to the island. Another thing about not reading up about things before you go is that you aren’t prepared for all eventualities (like torches) and so we didn’t venture across as darkness was not far away. Instead we decided to drive back to Newport to Anne’s place for Thai takeaways and the rugby (England vs South Africa) which our workmates didn’t say much about on Monday – neither did they say much about Lewis Hamilton and we didn’t rub it in cos really they had both done really well considering.

So, there was no more walking around the Gower on Sunday and instead we took a ride to a little mountain railway. We misread the timetable and arrived just as the train was about to leave – talk about great timing! It was a 16 mile trip up to the Brecon hills and a little town and reservoir. There wasn’t much to explore at Pontyscill but the reservoir with its little building reminded me of the Karori Sanctuary as both buildings were similar though different colour. We took some photos – the dedication Harry has to taking photos is unbelievable – he actually scraped his chin on stinging nettle during the photo shoot of the old ramshackle building and had an itchy chin for the rest of the day and incidentally a sore back from lifting me so I could see over the reservoir wall. We had a wander up a hill, following a dry stone wall that meandered up towards the sky (the walls don’t look very stable but have been there for years) and then along the train track (quite safe as we knew when the train was coming back to pick us up). Impeccable timing again saw us standing first in line at the cafe to get a cup of tea, just as the train pulled in to the station with its next load of passengers. We obviously felt like exercise in the weekend cos when we drove towards Brecon we (or should I say ‘I’) carried the thermos’s up another big hill to have a cup of tea and look at the view. Not a very good view but we needed that drink. Underfoot we walked on a very spongy moss but we were still surprised when we watched orienteerers run up and down the hill without falling over while we cautiously made our way back to the only yellow car in the car park. Brecon was a cute little town, especially cos it served a lovely Devonshire tea with real cream and not clotted cream and a cathedral surrounded by heaps of trees and autumn leaves. We all had fun playing in the pile of leaves and were careful not to spread them around too much as the gardener wouldn’t have been too pleased (he may have noticed a few scattered around the place but put it down to kids I suspect). We drove back tired and contented, made slightly longer by a detour where a canal had burst its banks (the roads and villages are often lower than the canal) so you can imagine the potential mess. We said goodbye to Wales (with all its bilingual signs – Araf means slow – so we are learning but rather slowly I think) and look forward to exploring more with Anne in the future.

One thing I think the English do well (besides supermarket pizzas) are public toilets. I forgot to mention that last week in Wells we came across a loo that had security connected to it. Hopefully not a video but certainly taped music and a voice that reminded us to lock the door and then said ‘you will be told when you may leave’ – we left before we were told!!

Beaches and the English Countryside

Saturday dawned misty but warm so after a few domestics (like washing, shopping, and lunch) we headed back too Weston Supermare. Harry was keen to do a museum and I was keen to get outside so we compromised and stopped first at a helicopter museum we passed. It was quite a large one and reasonably packed with helicopters ranging from small prototypes to the royal helicopters complete with bars and plush cushions. The Duke and Queen visited the museum a couple of months ago and opened a new wing so it is obviously quite a well known museum. It didn't keep my interest for long so while Harry took heaps of photos and wandered around slowly I sat down and read the paper and enjoyed a spot of r and r. Locals laugh when we say we went to Weston for the afternoon but there is actually a lot to do. We had walked along the promenade and beach before but at both ends of the bay there are hills to climb, views to see and old buildings. We first went to Uphill (not apparently named because it is up a hill but the name is derived from the scandanavian name 'hubba' and the old english word for creek 'pill'. Anyway, lovely little 13th century church and scenery overlooking the town, beach and marina.

Athe other end of the beach is a hill and below a disused pier. Looks as though they built the new one and then left the other to disrepair - rather a shame really, because in quite a good position sitting on a rock. We suspect it might still be used to launch life boats if necessary though the sea doesn't look that dangerous and the worst that could happen is getting stuck in the mud and having to wait for a the high tide. Around the knoll was Sandy Bay. Those of you who know me well will know I was in my element. Just like me sitting and watching Harry look at helicopters it was his turn to sit and watch me play in the sand and paddle in the water (I think we are both still kids at heart). There were a few people on the beach, and a few dogs playing with frisbees and sticks and children playing in the sand. Again, can't swim in the beach cos it turns to mud quite quickly but I would imagine that in high tide could paddle comfortably before your feet sink too far. We sat on a log, having a cuppa and admiring the sun shining down on us through a gap in the clouds. We would have liked to have stayed longer to watch it set but we had been invited out to listen to a group (specialising in Stevie Wonder songs) in the evening and so headed off home.

Sunday, Adrienne and Shane piled with us into our car and off we went to Wells. England's smallest city. What a cutie. Lots of little shops (including a fudge shop!!), wonderful cathedral and an abbey surrounded by a moat and garden. Heaps of history to enjoy amongst gardens and flowers and trees. We sat by a church to have our lunch and then went for a walk through the countryside to Dulcote - where we picked wild marjoram and the last of the blackberries for a crumble and admired some wonderful statues in some unusual places.

Chester

On Saturday morning we got up real early for a weekend (7.00 pm) and drove along the M32, M4, M5 and M6 to Chester. I no longer need convincing - I don't like the motorways. As the morning wore on it got busier and faster. We decided that since we really did want to get to Chester that there was less chance of being distracted on the motorway and therefore more of a chance that we might actually get to our intended destination. We must admit we did get tempted a few times on the way but it was difficult to take detours when going 70 miles per hour in the middle lane. Chester was well worth the visit. We found a car park in a road called 'gorse stack'. Apparently a few hundred years ago the residents were only allowed to stack firewood and anything else that might catch fire outside the wall and this road was just outside the wall so that is where they stacked gorse. Our first stop was at the Chester Cathedral garden to sit in the sun and to eat our bacon butties (a standard picnic item for us it seems) and we were so hungry we never shared any with the squirrels - and they didn't share their chestnuts with us.

Like all good tourists we caught an old double decker bus around first to get the feel of the town and find out a little bit about the history. The town is quite small by English standards (felt like the size of Paraparaumu). We passed the cemetery where there are a few famous people buried there though I didn't recognise any of the names as the commentator reeled them off. However, I did remember one poor woman (Mary someone) who won a lifetime subscription to the 'Titbit' magazine as she had made the biggest contribution to the English population by having 33 children (15 sets of twins in that lot) - must have been postwar as she wouldn't get any prizes today. I somehow think she deserved more than a subscription. The commentator also talked a lot about the relationship between the Welsh and English as Chester is only 5 miles away from the Welsh border. An act of parliament gave the inhabitants of Chester the right to shoot any Welsh people who were found in their city after dark - it has never been repealed. And the third thing we learnt was that all swans in England are owned by the reigning monarch. Then we followed that up with a little boat trip up the River Dee. I like boat trips as I always think that from a water way you get a different perspective of the city. The boat trip confirmed what we first thought Chester is tidy, relaxed, touristy and the residents appear reasonably well off as they seem to spend their time sailing and shopping. The Grosvenors are the family that sort of established Chester and gifted a huge park to the town - something I thought I would like to do one day if I ever own a huge piece of land in the middle of somewhere important - dream on!!
We then ventured on to the wall. Chester is a roman village and known mainly for its stone wall which circles the city with only an occassional break - it gives quite a birds eye view of the city without the hustle and bustle of the crowds below.

The amphitheatre had been virtually destroyed as the stones were used to build and strengthen the wall and then future generations built other buildings over the remains. However, they didn't destroy the roman bath house with quite so much vigour so they obviously prioritised cleanliness and other things over theatre. Around the city there are stones placed on footpaths and in the shopping malls which apparently signifies they had been carefully excavated and moved there to protect. You can sit on them, jump on them and even write graffitti if you so desire - imagine in New Zealand they would be so well protected.

We wandered passed the first race course in England (the Chester Cup was the first race in 1846). 'The Roodee' as the racecourse is officially known is also known unofficially as the 'soup plate race course' (and we thought the cake tin was a bad name for our stadium). The unusual name comes from the river bed as the area used to be part of the river before it silted up (natural reclamation I gather). You can imagine how it got its unofficial name. The course is quite difficult to race on (for the horses but don't know about the jockeys) as it is an oval shape with no long finishing straight. It is one of the few race courses where you can view all of the horse race with no binoculars (assuming you can see well), poor people could look at the horses from the footpath above. Down the road from the race course sits the castle on a little hill and a range of buildings (tudor and georgian houses which sit comfortably side by side), the river and the shops. And that brings me to the shopping. We couldn't believe the crowds. Here we were up on the wall enjoying the history and the views and the tranquility of our surroundings when we looked down at one point and saw hoards of people down at the shops (one reason could be that it was Chester University open day?). The first shopping malls were built in Chester - tudor buildings with 3 stories of shops and balconies so you could walk the outside of the building. Some of the shops were empty probably because it sat alongside a modern mall a similar size to those in Bristol. We actually went back to the shops on Sunday morning before they opened to take some photos without a lot of bodies getting in the way. Someone at work said that we must still be tourists if we are still taking photos of Tudor buildings!! The clock on the bridge was built in 1897 to commemorate Queen Victoria's (50th or 60th year of her reign).

Now on to the churches - and like any English city or countryside for that matter there are a number. Chester cathedral from the outside doesn't look much but from the inside is quite unique. We don't go into every church or cathedral as I think we would be 'cathedralled' out by now if we did but we were glad we made the effort with this one. It is huge and had heaps of little nooks that were used for different things (like a special place to pray for family, or the community, or the environment etc). I get the impression that the church is a bit big for the Chester congregation but they did not want it to go to ruin with all the wonderful stainglass windows, mosaics, tapestries and indoor garden. Handel stopped off in Chester and sat in the church and finished off the 'Messiah' before going to Ireland where it was first performed. Down the road is the John the Baptist church which is an example of what can happen when the church is no longer needed. The congregation built a wall inside and left the back to deteriorate while the front bit still used.

Not far away from Chester and inside the Welsh border is an aqueduct which we stumbled across. We had a 5 mile walk around the canal, over the Cefn railway viaduct, across the River Dee and through the gardens and little farm (there is a llama that protects and sheep and their lambs from foxes) before heading home. The pictures speak for themselves really - how to spend a relaxing Sunday afternoon (walking or sitting happily on a canal boat).

There isn't much more to say except on Saturday night when we lay on the bed in our b&b watching a certain game of rugby the word 'catastrophe' came to mind (the French were saying that in Provence when they lost to Argentina) but they weren't saying it in Cardiff that Saturday night. The gloom of the crowds and the team said it all. Both Harry and I have been teased at work especially since England won. It made me realise why I am not a dedicated sportsman or specialist - besides not having the skills - it would take so much time and effort to work towards something and then it can all be over so quickly. Still, on the reverse I suppose the thrill of the win. Who to support now - Argentina perhaps? The interesting thing is that England is definitely not a rugby nation - none of the newspapers I glimpsed at on the newstand on Sunday had a headline 'we won against the odds' but I can imagine the mourning that went on at home. Four years isn't that long is it??