Barcelona

On Friday night we spent 7 hours going nowhere. We boarded the plane on time and learnt that the plane had hit a bird on its incoming flight. The wing was damaged enough to need repairing (I imagine the bird however got off second best) and so after an hour sitting on the plane we were taken back to the airport to wait another few hours before we were told to come back for a 10.30 flight the next morning. We did have a bed to go to, but others either camped out in the airport or took the offer of an Easyjet £70 subsidy on a hotel (it was the balloon festival on so not sure if it was easy to find accommodation at that time of night). So, our trip to Barcelona was somewhat shortened, but still we had a great time. After dropping our bags off at a somewhat posh hotel (for us) we caught the underground into the centre.

While on the underground it occurred to me that people are the same everywhere it doesn't matter that we might speak a different language or be a different colour we're all the same. There is the old man who tries to find a seat for his wife, although he looks as though he needs the seat more; there is the older teenager going on 20 plus that could be coming home from a late night or pulled out of bed early to go to some place they really don't want to go to; there's the slightly arrogant person who puts their feet on the seat, or sits with their bag on the next seat even though there are people standing; there's the young couple who have trouble keeping their hands and lips to themselves; there's those going to work that don't look particularly enthusiastic about anything; the shopper who is tired from all that retail therapy; the parent who talks and cuddles their little children or rocks them gently asleep and there's the talkers who chat throughout the journey to their friends sitting beside them or on the end of a cell phone. Barcelona was no different to London!! So, with that thought (and a Spanish book in our pocket) we caught the Hop On Hop Off bus for a quick tour of the city so we could work out what Barcelona was all about. The next day we went on a Fat Tire Bike ride and so here is what we saw on both these trips ( conclusion have to go back cos all we saw was the outside of things, rather than the inside). The architect Gaudi had a huge influence on the architecture in Barcelona and this style reminded me of Hundertwasser, the Austrian who also designed the famous loo in Kawakawa, Kiwi land (photo courtesy of the web cos we haven't seen it - but it is on our must do list when we return).

Oops sorry got distracted, back to Gaudi and Barcelona. Like Hundertwasser, Gaudi wasn't particularly keen on straight lines - and I agree where in nature do you find a straight line? Gaudi's influence is seen through out the city, as other architects (shame on me I can't remember their names) have copied his style (colourful, ornamental, curved, at times intricate and often quite droopy which leaves the impression of sadness), or introduced a new style of their own. Being quite keen on architecture I was fascinated and we have to return to go inside (we've decided we might try and avoid the queues by going in winter- being inside in winter is o.k.). Antoni Gaudi was born in 1852 to a poor family and qualified as an architect some 25 years later. The style has been described as a 'sensuous, curving, almost surreal design style' and I think the description is quite apt. On the bus or on the bikes we drove or rode past:

• Casa Calvet designed for a textile manufacturer with the bottom storeys used for business and top as the family home. It is quite conventional, compared to other of Gaudi's designs, by looks as it is between two older buildings - a bit like a terraced house in Bristol. But it does have character though a bit difficult to get on photo.

• Casa Batlló - restored by Gaudi in 1877 and remodelled in the early 1900's. A middle class family originally commissioned the design and it is right in the centre of Barcelona. I really really really want to go inside cos apparently it is spectacular. They say, the aim was to avoid straight lines completely and the outside is a mosaic of broken tiles, it has an arched roof and ...
  

• Casa Milà, was built around 1910 and was built for a wealthy widow (old money from America) and her second husband (who probably didn't have the money but enjoyed the flamboyant lifestyle of the rich). It's been restored now since it became a UNESCO World Heritage Site and really looks great (from the outside).
  

• The Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família (often simply called the Sagrada Família). It is huge that has been under construction in Barcelona since 1882 (started while Gaudi was alive but the plans have gone missing since his death) and is not expected to be complete until at least 2026 (or later if progress continues to be slow). Somehow, I think it is more of a tourist attraction unfinished...it looks sad, incomplete and too big (according to me)...

All this is mixed in with the narrow streets and older terraced buildings of the 'old Barcelona', the 'new' spacious Barcelona and modern buildings. So, quite an eclectic mix.

Besides buildings, we saw lots of other things like:

• The wonderful person-made beaches built specially for the 1992 Olympics where New Zealand one 1 gold, 4 silvers and 5 bronze medals - our third highest tally ever - perhaps they were inspired by the lovely golden beaches, warm waters and brand new hotel accommodation built for them. We sat in the sun and ate baguettes and fruit and then paddled in the lovely warm water (with lots of topless sun bathers), wishing we had time for a swim.
  
• Some great views from the Montjuic castle (we climbed to it using the underground, funicular railway, gondolas) and from other parts of the botanical gardens. The castle was built in 1640 and was later used as a place to house political prisoners over time. It had none of that atmosphere about it but I guess we were admiring the views from the top of the walls. It is the only place in Barcelona where a statue of Franco stands.
• The Barcelona Cathedral which had a really interesting garden where 13 white geese are meant to live because some special person was martyred when she was 13 some 600 years ago (I think I counted 7 geese - but I guess some could have flown somewhere else for lunch).
• Part of Olympic village where competitors stayed, the athletics stadium, the bit where the flame was lit and the telecommunications tower that looks like a big needle and thread.
  
• Poble Espanyol which I would be keen to go inside next time (built in 1929 for the Barcelona International Exhibition) it is a model village. Its got 117 buildings, streets and squares reproduced to, I think, life size scale.
• The port with lots of cranes, container ships and cruise liners.
• The Glories - Toree Abgar which we likened to the Gherkin in London. It is a skyscraper designed by the French architect Jean Nouvel and is lit up at night. According to Jean Nouvel, the shape of the Torre Agbar was inspired by Montserrat, a mountain near Barcelona, and by the shape of a geyser rising into the air (I'll leave the rest to your imagination). However it does have a few nicknames such as "el supositori" (the suppository), "l'obús" (the shell) as well as the gherkin and others which I won't repeat.
• the Hospital de la Santa Creu i Sant Pau - which was founded in 1401 but is still a hospital.
• the steps where Christopher Columbus climbed to visit King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella after he returned from his famous trip to the America's - I didn't know that Christopher was actually Italian.
• the Arc de Triumph in Citadel Park (which had a huge colony of Australian Green Lorikeets -we saw them in Hampstead Heath as well) - they made a terrific noise but mostly hid in the trees.
  
• bull fighting rings - yes it is still legal - and I wasn't impressed.
• the markets of La Ramba - a tree lined street - close to the older part of Barcelona. When we arrived at 10 am for our bike ride, it was very quiet but on our return 5 hours later we were 'shoulder' to 'shoulder' with lots of others and although fun to watch the street performers we were out of there pretty fast up to the hills above the crowds to enjoy the sunshine with only a few people.

And that was our whirlwind trip to Barcelona (except I forgot to mention the Tapas - yum). And some interesting articles from the paper we read in the airport on Friday night....

• Young people are deserting the internet especially things like facebook as parents work out its a way to keep track of what their kids are doing. 'Yesterday, I discovered that my mother was stalking me on Facebook and Twitter'... the number of 35-54 year olds wasting their time going on line to sights such as Facebook and Twitter has gone up 25% while the number of young folk (15-24%) logging on has dropped around 10%. Could it be because they have worked out that if they invite their parents to be 'friends' on Facebook, parents can actually see what they are doing? ' Interestingly enough over the last week 4 of my friends have invited me to join facebook as friends, so a sample of one, that's me, supports the stats.
• This is your guard speaking again...'passengers have said there were 31 announcements in 32 minutes on a train from Portsmouth to Petersfield' the other day. Certainly, on my trips to Swansea which seem to be weekly at the moment there is often a 'mind the gap between the train and the platform', 'remember to keep your bags with you', 'report unattended bags', 'this train will stop at ....', 'the next station is ...' (often wrong). The useful things are 'we're a few minutes late because waiting for a signal...' etc and the only other advantage I can see is that they keep me awake so I don't miss the station where I have to change trains.
  

And some jokes pertinent to the news worthy English political system at the moment:

• Did you hear the one about the MP who didn't put anything on expenses? No, me neither.
• How many MPs does it take to change a light bulb? None, but a family member will do it for £10,000.

And to finish the week off: Is there any point posting our vote on the referendum on 'smacking' when Harry doesn't vote the same as me!! Should I have saved the NZ tax payer from paying the cost of postage, or voted to show how important it is that we can have a say? And one I found just for Harry...

An elderly lady took her car to the garage for a service and requested that the wheels be moved around. the mechanic asked if she wanted the front wheels swapped to the rear and vice versa. "No" replied the lady. "Ah, so you want them swapped diagonally?" "No, not that either", was the response. "What exactly do you want me to move around then?" asked the exasperated mechanic. "The wheels! Every time I go to check the air in my tyres, the valves are in the wrong place - I want you to move the wheels so that when I park all the valves are at the bottom!"

Visiting the Queen

The week went by with a trip to:

• Swansea (cold and wet) with the cycle home from the station taking longer than planned (I tried a new route went down an underpass and after 15 minutes landed back at the station - thought I was getting to know Bristol but not apparently not).
• Skittles (which Harry's team won but not very convincingly).
• Salsa - our first lesson to learn the Caribbean dance, with a bit of African, European and rock and roll in the music and the steps (that's what I think anyway). Us girls, went round the room dancing with available men (including Harry) or by ourselves when there wasn't a male available and learnt a few of the steps - suspect even though we have practiced them one night will have forgotten them by next week. I am amused that you can also eat Salsa (Spanish for a sauce - a spicy mixture of ingredients) but when we were dancing I somehow think 'saucey' was a more appropriate description.

On the Friday, I was later than expected leaving work - got a bit held up at meetings and stuff but it was quite an eventful day. The founder of the West Coast Chapter of Hells Angels had died and the funeral procession started just outside the pub across the road from work and finished there in the afternoon for the wake. There was a 11 gunshot salute for him, a small police presence and heaps of bikies and their bikes. The gang members looked a bit different from the NZ ones, and their bikes were mainly clean and shiny to show off their colours, red, green, blue as well as the traditional black. Even though we were late leaving the trip to London went well with no significant hold ups (we haven't yet been caught in a major traffic jam - but the day we have no thermos and food it will happen). We arrived at the large Travelodge nestled between the M4 and Heathrow airport. Even with the windows open it was surprisingly quiet and we enjoyed a couple of nights there - it was in quite spacious grounds and I thought it a pity that there weren't sliding doors out to the grass where we could have sat drinking our late evening cuppa.

Saturday was our trip to the State Rooms of Buckingham Palace. So much more educated than a few weeks ago, we now knew who John Nash was (architect of Brighton Pavilion and Witley and many of the rooms at the palace and who was sacked the moment that King George IV died because he was way way way way way over budget - obviously it would have been nice if he had had some influence over the 1960's design of the Travelodge). It is summer - well lets rephrase that - peak tourist season when people come from all over the world expecting to see London in summer. The underground carried few English speaking people, and on the ground there were even less as school parties from all over Europe wandered around the gardens and around the palace. So, as we walked through the crowds, trying to catch a glimpse of the 'changing of the guard' we very quietly hummed the first two lines of AA Milnes famous poem and wished we knew the rest...

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
Alice is marrying one of the guard.
"A soldier's life is terrible hard,"
Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We saw a guard in a sentry-box.
"One of the sergeants looks after their socks,"
Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
We looked for the King, but he never came.
"Well, God take care of him, all the same,"
Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
They've great big parties inside the grounds.
"I wouldn't be King for a hundred pounds,"
Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
A face looked out, but it wasn't the King's.
"He's much too busy a-signing things,"
Says Alice.

They're changing guard at Buckingham Palace -
Christopher Robin went down with Alice.
"Do you think the King knows all about me?"
"Sure to, dear, but it's time for tea,"
Says Alice.

We couldn't take photos inside the palace. The staircase up to the rooms went up 2 floors, and a couple of the rooms were lovely - John Nash influence again. They had organised it well - having to purchase tickets early with a group allowed entry every 15 minutes to limit the number in each room. Went through 'airport security' and then through a great hall with lots of paintings - over to the balcony to view from a distance the Queen's private quarters and then through a number of the rooms - each one unique with large chandeliers and different colour schemes. Some lovely scotia boards - probably made of plaster of paris - but exquisite in their design. There was an exhibition of the Commonwealth - I didn't realise it started with only a few countries in 1949 and has grown to 53 countries now. Then out into the garden - which wasn't that impressive but I guess it lends itself to garden parties with a big lawn and little lake. Anyway, a place worth going to if you are ever in London - but sorry to have missed the Queen and her corgis!

Anyway, we sat and watched the world go by for a while in St James Park and saw the bands walk back to the baracks and the horses walking up the mall (and the little truck coming up afterwards to pick up what horses leave behind). We had a coffee and a pack of chips to provide that much needed energy for us tourists. Tyrrells are a new make of chips, and I wouldn't recommend them above any of the others except their packaging provided us with some laughs. "Our chips can be eaten as part of a healthy common sense diet along with plenty of broccoli and lots of exercise". Firstly, they didn't call them crisps like the English do - but what's with the broccoli? They even grow the potatoes so "we're in control from seed to chip" but here's the best "At Tyrrells we enjoy food and we enjoy life: something we often refer to as 'Tyrrelling'. Have you been Tyrrelling lately?" Wonder if that's a new word that will get into the Oxford dictionary one day. In the evening we wandered through Covent Garden, stood in some doorways to shelter from yet another downpour and ate dinner at a little Italian Restaurant (of which there are three with the same name in one block - not much good saying 'we'll meet at Bella Italia' is there?). Then off to see Calendar Girls which started off with a talk by a rather boring woman to the 'Women's Institute' on the History of - would you believe it Broccoli!! Anyway, they managed to disconnect the slide projector accidentally of course, so that the woman couldn't continue - it did have potential of being rather a boring play if the cast hadn't managed to do that but I couldn't resist on returning to Bristol looking at the History of Broccoli - so here is my version...its high in Vitamin C (one cup the same amount as an orange), Potassium, lots of Vitamin B's, Iron (one cup enough for your daily intake) - but these virtues weren't really appreciated in the 'ancient world'. In ancient Turkey the farmers first grew cabbages and then broccoli and around the 8th century it arrived in Italy where the Romans quite liked the little green vege and called in Calabrese. The first broccoli was purple which turned green when cooked. I think we saw some growing at Hampton Court flower show. It was cooked with cumin and coriander seeds, chopped onion with a touch of oil and sun-made wine or sometimes a creamy wine sauce. Now the overdose story - I like it - but not by itself! Roman Emperor Tiberius, who lived around the time of Jesus had a son named Drusius who rather liked broccoli - that is all he ate for a month. His urine turned bright green and his father scolded him severely for "living precariously" so that was that for his favourite vegetable. And I think thats enough of that famous vege described by John Randolph as "The stems will eat like Asparagus, and the heads like Cauliflower" and others called it "the five green fingers of Jupiter." You may think I missed the point of the show but not really - it was a fun and well presented with good acting and some laughs as well as a good message - just as good as the movie. 12 hours after arriving at the hotel we were back in London Central to catch up with Rebecca and Nylan. We wandered around Westminster Abbey (closed because it was Sunday) and decided that we might go to a service rather than pay the £15 entry fee, had lunch at a Thai/Chinese restaurant on the Thames, caught the underground to Madame Tussauds (but decided the queue was too long but pleased we had 2 for 1 vouchers at £25 entry fee each which we will save for another day) and ended up in Regent Park, eating ice- creams and listening to Jazz. Rather a relaxing afternoon.

And just because I love getting photos of the special people in my life here are a couple of photos of Shaz and Az's trip to Gold Coast recently. I also love getting comments on the blog - I've had a few lately.

Kinver

Sometimes it just happens in this electronic age - you write a whole lot of stuff for your blog and then it disappears. It wasn't all plain sailing writing it either - I got some html code mixed up in the blog and couldn't save it for a while until I figured out how to delete the code 'go to the edit html button and delete all the bits that are highlighted blue' I discovered- Mike would be so proud of his Mum - but maybe not as I managed to delete everything without intending too. It has been a mixed up week weather wise - hopes of a warm sunny week after one warmish day were squashed when black thunder clouds, rain storms, mists all appeared during the week with the occasional breeze thrown in for good measure. We managed a couple of walks during the week - one where I finally found the house where Cary Grant was born (walked past it numerous times - but only now looked up to see the little blue plaque telling us of the house's history). Funny, after seeing the house I began to romanticise about the history of this little late 19th century house where Archibald Alec Leach - but it wasn't romantic really at all he had quite a sad childhood. In this house, not far from where we live, Archie lived a fairly non-eventful life until he was 9, when he came home from school to discover his mother had gone to a seaside resort - never to return (other reports said he was told she had died). He later found out (in his late 20's) that she had been seriously depressed and put into an institution - a very misunderstood health problem back in those days. When he was 14 he joined a group of comedians (obviously keen to leave Bristol and not a happy chappie as he forged his father's signature and lied about his age). Here the actor to be began to learn some of those acting skills and in 1920 he went with the troupe to Broadway to star in the 'Good Times' - I guess the rest is history as the saying goes - except that he did come back to visit his mother and stayed at the big hotel overlooking the Clifton Suspension Bridge. He was married 5 times (that is one wife less than Henry VIII - but to my knowledge none of them were beheaded so I guess that's a positive). Anyway, we've walked past his statue a few times (including when we went for the Bristol bike race recently) and so obviously Bristolians are proud to have bred such an important person even if he became an American citizen later on in life.

Given the weather was a bit up and down I also thought about the history of that wonderful invention - the umbrella. Last weekend we drove past the crowds waiting to go into the Banksy exhibition (won't put any more details about him until we get to the exhibition). The queues continue to be long - up to a 2-3 hour wait. It rained last Sunday and as we were driving along, we looked at each other hopefully and thought that the queue might have gone to have a coffee instead...but we had forgotten about the tenacity of the English and their willingness to queue for anything... and we didn't stop...except at a red light to take a photo. They have opened the museum for one late night a week now, to cope with the crowds so maybe next week we'll give it a go. Anyway, back to the history lesson -the umbrella was invented over four thousand years ago (there has been many discovered in archaelogical sites in Egypt, Assyria, Greece, and China). Initially given the warmth of those countries they provided shade but then the Chinese decided to waterproof their sun umbrellas to make them rain umbrellas (as we know it does rain quite heavily in parts of China). They waxed and lacquered their paper parasols long before the wet European continent and England thought about it. Initially in this part of the world they were only seen as 'suitable for women'. It was around the 1700's that famous people such as the writer Jonas Hanway (I hadn't heard of him till now which just goes to show I still have lots to learn about famous people) used an umbrella in public and a number of English gentleman followed suit - carrying their "Hanway" in inclement weather (I can just imagine them saying "Have you brought my Hanway, Jeeves?"). The first umbrella shop was opened in London in 1830 and was called "James Smith and Sons" (no relation to the old James Smiths in Wellington that I could find).
On Thursday while I went to work Harry went to Donington where the British Round of the Moto GP was held - that's motorbike racing for those of us who didn't know. He went with a crowd of his work mates as work sponsors a rider. It was a practise day, and a bit of a race day, spoilt a little bit by the intermittent showers - a challenge for the racers but not for Harry as he had remembered his Hanway.
On Friday we went to Chris's for takeaways and on Saturday we headed off to Kinver which was very exciting as I had seen it in a pamphlet a while ago (I have a new hobby - collecting pamphlets - so on rainy days or boring evenings I go through them to work out where we can go - I ditch them after we have visited them otherwise we would need rather a large cardboard box). I had read about the Kinver Edge and Rock Houses and was just waiting for a weekend when we could take off back up to the Worcester area. It was a lovely sunny and warm day and we walked for around 3 hours along the top of the hill past a very old Iron Age Hill Fort (so old it looked like a sloping field) and through tree lined hill tops and sometimes blackberry, bracken and stinging nettle. In books and on the net the 'Edge' is described as a 'spectacular high sandstone ridge once home to Britain's last cave dwellers'. During our wander, we stumbled across what I thought was a landing site for UFOs and Harry thought were beehives, but finally we realised it was the reservoir we had been searching for - underground lake with vents and not the picturesque watery sight we were expecting. So we clambered down quite a steep path (after couple of wrong turnings) and walked back along the bottom of the ridge and found Nanny's Rock where people used to live.
Then onto the Holy Austin rock houses(the real point of all that exercise). The rock is named after a 16th century monk who lived near the site and the houses have been around for sometime. J Heely in his book 'The Beauties of Enville' (another famous person I hadn't heard of until this weekend) described walking from Hagley to Enville in 1777.
"I now stood on the very edge of the awful declivity looking with giddy head into the deep hollow below, lingering irresolute whether I should attempt the almost perpendicular side of it or stand the fury of the storm...I hastened therefore down the tremendous steep slope to some smoke (it wasn't that steep for kiwis as fit as us but I guess we had a path to follow) I saw issue from a romantic rock near the foot of it...I found this exceedingly curious rock inhabited by a clean and decent family who entertained me...how long they had lived there and the immense trouble they had been at in excavating the rock for their purposes...the rooms are curious warm and commodious and the garden extremely pretty...".
Here people lived until the 1950's when they were forced to leave when "officialdom decreed that the cave village no longer met the requirements of modern living and moved the remaining occupants into council houses" - I think that meant that they weren't on the town sewage system (funny how things change because the septic tank is a common thing in many countries including here). Actually I think it would have been a nice place to live. Cool in the summer (not sure you need that), warm in the winter with the fires burning with a bit of subsistence living thrown in. It is easy for me to understand the attraction when you compare the industrial 'black country' not far away. After they were evacuated the houses stood empty for a number of years until gifted to the National Trust who spent quite a while and lots of money renovating them - basing their work on old paintings including one by Alfred Rushton of Sarah and Joshua Fletcher sitting in their front room by the fire). The families living in the houses were actually considered well off, not poor at all, and apparently lived quite good lives - reasonably self sufficient). At their peak there were 12 families comprising of over 80 people living there, practising all sorts of trades like iron foundry workers, agricultural labourers and broom makers. The families according to historians lived quite comfortably with piped gas (in later years), water collected from a well, and a 'fridge' in the deepest part of the cave (constant 11 degrees in caves we've learnt).
Under the houses and the Edge there is a huge maze of tunnels we were told - these are followed around by lots of rumours - some suggest that in the Second World War the tunnels were excavated to take large modern articulated lorries to create a factory. There were many smaller interconnecting tunnels and the factory was managed by Rover to make aircraft engine parts. During the cold war the complex became a nuclear bunker or RSG (Regional Seat of Government) and later on it included things like a BBC Studio, Telecommunications, operatIng theatre. I'll probably never find out the truth cos it is all bathed in secrecy and mystery.

On Saturday night we drove to Redditch to stay in a hotel (bits built in 1921, others in what appeared to be about the 40's and then one wing definitely in the 60's - the last definitely out of character). It was set in what would have been a lovely garden if they could find a gardener courageous enough to tackle the blackberry and the rather overgrown 17 acres of woodlands - but even a lawn mower would have made a huge difference. The room was very clean and spacious so we enjoyed putting our feet up after an energetic day culminating in following 6 signs, climbing 25 steps, going down another 24, through 6 doors and around 7 corners to Room 112. We picnicked in the sun on the side of a road in a suburb of Redditch called 'Headless Cross' and drove down a street called 'Other Street' to find a sunny patch of grass - the town seemed devoid of parks (or at least sunny ones). We had a fairly substantial breakfast in the morning and then off to Witley Court.
A hundred years ago, Witley Court was one of England's great country houses - a place where if you were important you were invited to party in the garden and conservatory in summer and the ball room in winter. Today it is a ruin, the result of a disastrous fire in 1937, and a demolition sale where all the 'special' things that make a home a home were sold. We the public, can now wander around a large ruin but only on the ground floor as the top storeys have no floors. The gardens are rather vast (we could send their gardener to the hotel for a few nights) and a very impressive (but ugly when the water wasn't flowing) fountain. The largest which did have an impressive display on the hour represents the story of Perseus and Andromeda - who you might ask...
" Cepheus and Cassiopeia the king and queen of Ethiopia had a daughter called Andromeda. Andromeda was beautiful. Cassiopeia was proud of her daughter and boasted about her beauty constantly. Cassiopeia even said that Andromeda was more beautiful than all the daughters of Poseidon the sea god. This made them very angry, so Poseidon decided to punish Cassiopeia. Poseidon sent a huge sea monster (called the Kraken) to ravage the land of Ethiopia. In order to calm Poseidon down, Andromeda was to be sacrificed to the monster. Unable to change Poseidon's mind, she was chained to a large rock by the seashore to await her fate.Luckily Perseus happened to be flying by. He had winged sandals! He was carrying with him the severed head of the Gorgon, Medusa. It had snakes for hair and was so ugly that any creature that gazed directly at it was turned to stone. Perseus saw Andromeda and the dangerous position she was in. With quick thinking he uncovered the head of Medusa, pointing it straight at the eyes of the sea monster. Just in the nick of time the sea monster turned to stone.Perseus and Andromeda fell in love and were married to save the kingdom. Andromeda's mother Cassiopeia was not very happy about the marriage! The Greeks imagined that when Perseus, Andromeda and Cassiopeia died their images were put into the night sky as constellations (groups) of stars."
Got all this from nmm.ac.uk including the picture below.

Anyway, a lot of people renovated the house over its life time including John Nash who was responsible for the Brighton Pavilion. We really enjoyed the wander around a huge ruin (it took 3 tonnes of coal to heat the house in one day when the roof was on and it was lived in) so quite a big place and then wandered to the little Great Witley Church attached to the house. It was surprisingly beautiful inside and immediately we thought 'European' and later read it as having "Italianate Baroque interior". We visited the tearoom down a little path and stopped to have a cup of coffee and Harry had a 'devonshire cream' (real cream not clotted cream) and I had a cheese scone (I was so excited when I saw them on the menu as that is something they don't do over here) - so we felt we had had a real treat. We then drove onto Great Malvern to the Morgan factory visitor centre (oops closed only open Monday to Thursday and Friday mornings). It is the 100th anniversary of the Morgan car and there's lots of festivities on next week which we can't go to.
And just when my heart needed a little warming Jill sent me these photos...