Post Script: Return to Margate 21st April 2012
Having been frustrated at the time that the 'Turner and the Elements' exhibition at the Turner Contemporary gallery was closed, I vowed to return to Margate and so it happens on 22nd April that I do, this time sans bike and in the relative comfort of a car with Ruth accompanying me to share the experience.
Sometimes you get a good feeling about a place and for me the Turner Contemporary is one of those. It's quite austere in appearance - intersecting concrete cubes with a roof that slopes - but it takes full advantage of its position on the sea front facing north over Herne Bay to the Essex shoreline opposite by dominating the skyline as you approach the town from the West. Plus they do sensible things like providing lockers to stow gear, a short guided tour and reasonably priced audio guides. And not least its free!
As for the exhibition - it doesn't disappoint. The 'Elements' referred to in the exhibition's title are the classical Earth,Water, Fire, and Air so in four rooms were examples to show how Turner was influenced by each of these. It is very clearly laid out and understandable. The final room - 'Fusion' contains examples of later works - some extremely radical and abstracted - where he had combined all elements and the guide makes a point of saying how controversial they were at the time. They also make some interesting observations which are new to me such as the number of volcanoes that errupted in Turners lifetime might have led to more glorious sunsets and his fascination with colours in the skies. Ruth and I agree that we learned a lot as well as appreciating the art for what it is.
With an afternoon to spare we wander around Margate, which has a funny selection of shops - some would not disgrace Knightsbridge while others are just tat rather than Habitat, though you can definitely see where Margate came from and what it was like in its heyday. I get the impression it is a town trying to reinvent itself and maybe the TC will help it do just that.
On the way back we are treated, thanks to the rapidly changeable weather we are having, to some truely Turneresque skies.
Thursday 26 April 2012
Wednesday 7 March 2012
49 Museum of Brands, Packaging and Advertising & 50 the Wallace Collection, London, 25th February 2012
Photos:
Almost there! On the home stretch of this year-long project so I thought it appropriate to mark the occasion by finishing on my 51st birthday and engineering a get-together with immediate family in a mutually convenient place. My hand was forced somewhat when I learned that Al was playing clarinet with his university orchestra in St John’s, Smith Square so London it is. This gave me plenty of scope for visiting new places but in the end I settle for the Wallace Collection – a gallery I’ve been meaning to visit for ages - and the Museum of Brands, Packaging and Advertising in Notting Hill which just sounds offbeat and interesting. We will meet up for lunchtime, everyone else not sharing my enthusiasm, and then round the day off by going to Al’s concert.
1000 Arrive on the dot of the opening of the MoBP&A - tucked away in a residential street in Notting Hill. Somewhat off the beaten tourist track methinks, underlined by the fact that I am the only one there for the most part. The clue is in the name...someone has collected tins, boxes, posters, artefacts, medicines, games, puzzles postcards - anything to illustrate the evolution of advertising and branding over the years starting with the Victorians and ending in the 21st Century. They let the exhibits tell the story, with relatively little in the way of written information. It is interesting to see how old some of the familiar names are and there are moments, especially in the 1960’s and 70’s cabinets when I think ‘I remember that’ or ‘I had one of those’. I also finally find definite proof by dint of the packet on display that Twiglets were longer than they are today!
By 1130 I have to make a move to the Wallace Collection or there is no time before meeting for lunch, so I hoof it back to the tube, battling against the oncoming streams of tourists on their way to Portobello Road market. A dash along the Central Line to disgorge at Bond Street and I’m virtually there. The Wallace Collection is a large mixture of stuff collected by some Marquess in the 19th century but I have about an hour to peruse and it is quickly apparent that there is no way I can fully do it justice. I decide to cherry pick the picture collection – Canalettos, Rembrandts and the famous Laughing Cavalier which is exquisitely painted. My favourite item is not a picture, though, but a small desk inkwell with a pile of tools and drawing instruments on top. Sounds strange, but it is really lovely and appeals to my engineering roots.
By 1245 my time is up and I hot-foot it along the Victoria line to Grumbles restaurant in Pimlico to meet up with family where the food is OK - more than OK – and the conversation even better.
We still have some time to kill before the concert so part again, I take to a nearby watering hole to watch the England v Wales Six Nations match, again keeping my own company though with several other enthusiasts, mainly Welsh it seems.
So to the concert: Wagner, Elgar and Stravinski in the sturdlily-built St John’s church in Smith Square. Great view of Al, and the orchestra makes a pretty good noise too.
So that is that. The completion of 50@fifty and the end of this blog. Phew! I didn’t think I was going to get it done at one point. There were a few places I missed out on but I don’t think there were any that I wouldn’t go back to. Fantastic memories and I really feel I know England better now. I’m not sure there will be a ‘51@fifty-one’ or the equivalent, but I have a few ideas kicking around for future travel projects.
You can review the whole blog at : http://malvolio-50fifty.blogspot.com/
Best B and B: Broad Croft House, Horton-in-Ribblesdale
Worst B and B: The Happy Dolphin, Margate
Most Surprising County: Northumberland or Suffolk
Favourite Train Ride: Dawlish to Exeter
Favourite Bike Ride: Monsal Trail
Best Day: Sutton Hoo and Snape Maltings
Best Atmosphere: Aldeburgh Beach
Most Spiritual Moment: Evensong in Lichfield Cathedral
High Point: Top of Blencathra J
Low Point: Missing the train to Matlock
Miles Travelled: Must be 1000’s
Cost: Don’t ask.
Thursday 1 March 2012
48 Ot Moor Nature Reserve, Oxfordshire, 29th January 2012
Travelling light today for a quick trip to Ot Moor to see 50,000 starlings perform an aerial display at their roost. I’m hoping for a good show but you can never tell with nature. I will alight at Oxford and cycle the 10k or so to the reserve.
1400 Threading my way through central Oxford along back lanes that, were it not for the tarmac and double yellow lines, can’t have changed in hundreds of years.
1622 At Ot Moor – a bleak, flat reserve with short-eared owls flying around. Quite a few people walking. I’m sitting behind a rush screen overlooking the starling roost waiting for dusk and the flocks of starlings. Speaking to a birder on the way here he said that the water shortage had kept some of the starlings away. Let's wait and see.
1632 Very quiet. Distant hiss of the M40. In the distance a church spire is silhouetted against the sky. Shoveler ducks do a slow lap round the shallows, gliding head down working the mud.
1632 Very quiet. Distant hiss of the M40. In the distance a church spire is silhouetted against the sky. Shoveler ducks do a slow lap round the shallows, gliding head down working the mud.
1653 A handful of starlings have arrived...
1800 ...and that was that! Not a murmur of a murmeration. Gave it up and cycled back to Oxford in the dark, picking my way through the country roads. Not my greatest success in this year but at least I can tick off the location.
Wednesday 22 February 2012
47 Bluebell steam railway, East Sussex, 28th January 2012
Photos:
East Grinstead is my destination and the Bluebell preserved steam railway. As a teenager I was keen on model-making so when a series of programmes in the 70’s called Model World was aired it was compulsory viewing for me. The presenter was a certain Bob Symes and I remember one of the episodes featured a trip on the Bluebell railway as an excuse to do research prior to building a layout of one of the stations. So let’s call this trip a homage to Bob Symes and memories of Airfix models hanging from my bedroom ceiling; Mevagissey model railway; balsa wood gliders and the radio controlled plane I coveted but never owned...one day, perhaps, one day ...
Rather ironically, getting to the Bluebell line by train is quite tricky involving two connections and a bus ride - unless you have a bike of course.
1110 and I am puffing like a steam loco up the hill out of East Grinstead. The map shows the end of the Bluebell line is barely 4 miles away.
Rather ironically, getting to the Bluebell line by train is quite tricky involving two connections and a bus ride - unless you have a bike of course.
1110 and I am puffing like a steam loco up the hill out of East Grinstead. The map shows the end of the Bluebell line is barely 4 miles away.
1145 Unless the station has disappeared my map reading skills are substandard because I cannot find any sign of it where it’s supposed to be. And this B-road is busy, I’m in danger of having an accident...
1206 Solved! tucked away in tiny writing on an inconspicuous finger post are the words ‘Kingscote Station’ I hang a left and two minutes later I am there, chaining my bike to the wooden fence surrounding the open frontage of the station building. I am clearly not expected, because the ticket office is deserted. However the platform isn’t as one of the trains has just pulled in so I grab the guard who opens up the office and makes his machine regurgitate a ticket printed on substantial card – I can just about remember real stations working like this.
There are a few minutes spare while the engines (we are on a sort of push-me-pull-you arrangement) are topped up with coal and water. The clientele are strictly divided between young families and older men carrying long-lens cameras. Rolling stock and engines of various sorts are parked about the sidings. Our engines are a small green one and a small blue one – I am afraid that is about the extent of my knowledge – sorry dad – you would be ashamed of me.
Eventually, amidst whistles blowing and flags waving, we move off. The first thing I notice is the clickety-clack noise – something you don’t get so much in modern trains with welded rails - very soporific. The countryside glides by, the carriages slipping through the clouds of steam produced by every chuff. For the most part we are riding a few feet above the surroundings so there is a good view. A child and his father wave from a wood, a man with shotgun and dogs pauses to look. There is something about steam trains that has this effect.
Eventually we reach the other end of the line and I pass the time looking round the half-restored engines in the shed. It must be incredibly expensive to run these in any sort of working order. I chat for a while to one of the volunteers, try to sound knowledgeable, and nod sagely when he relates some indecipherable technical point.
1345 I indulge in a pot of Earl Grey in the cafe while waiting for my train back to Kingscote while a birthday party with about a dozen kids goes on in one corner so Brief Encounters it aint! Reading some literature, it seems as if they are extending to join up with the main line railway at East Grinstead in due course at the cost of £millions. They have to remove thousands of tonnes of rubbish from one of the cuttings that has been used as a landfill in the intervening years. As the man on the promo video puts it – ‘we are moving rubbish from one landfill to another and paying for the privilege’. I hope it’ll be worth their effort, it would be nice to see.
Tuesday 21 February 2012
45 Exeter Cathedral and 46 Exe Trail and Dawlish, Devon, 21st January 2012
Thirty years ago I remember seeing Dawlish beach through the window of the Paddington to Penzance train as it worms through south Devon on its way to Cornwall, the track hugging the coast just behind the sea wall. I hardly know this part of the country at all which for a West countryman is a disgrace. Time to put that right today with a 50@fifty trip, taking in Exeter’s cathedral - yes another one and why not? I like them - on the way.
0828 The weather is dry and mild but the greyness of the thick cloud overhead dulls the light and threatens showers later. I'm due to arrive in Exeter Central at a quarter to eleven so I settle down to snooze and gaze out of the window.
1100 Hats off to Devon they have made a really pretty off-road cycle trail along the West bank of the Exe. I pick it up just outside the station where there is a wide level crossing that leads to the river. Here the modern-looking levees are topped by a tarmac path which gives a great view of the city on the far side. The river curves away invitingly and I put on a burst of speed and stretching my legs after the confines of the carriage.
There is plenty of riverside heritage to look at on the way and there has been engineering in the past which has led to interesting locks, weirs and a ship canal. Given the short day I don’t feel I have time to do much other than take a few snaps, read the information boards and press on towards Dawlish. A flock of geese in the adjacent field is too busy nibbling away at the grass to take any notice as I whizz by.
It’s the middle of the day and the weather is turning blustery with intermittent showers. The estuary widens and exposes mudflats and channels with the odd passenger plying up and down. The trail starts to follow the railway trackside and more than one train passes by. I intend to do the return journey by train and I’m already looking forward to it.
1350 The last bit of the trail to Dawlish is a bit of a shock to the system after the flat ride along the riverside as it’s a steep hill. Dawlish itself is a funny little town. A surprisingly full river cascades down a series of shallow weirs to the beach and the railway track is about as close to the sea as you can get without actually wetting the rails, though judging by the amount of rust on the metalwork of the station a wetting is exactly what they get during winter storms.
1420 A rainbow appears over the Exe on the way back which I manage to photograph from my seat in the carriage. It's a shame I didn't have more time to spend looking at wildlife but I really wanted to get to the cathedral before it gets dark.
The brown spire of St Michael and all Angels parish church dominates the skyline as we pull into Exeter St Thomas station.
1445 Make my way to the buff-coloured, somewhat squat-looking west end of the cathedral. Some of the statuary has seen better days it looks as if the conservationists have had a hand in insisting they keep old stone amongst the new.
Inside, evensong is just about to start so I join in. Normally there are plenty of seats for these things but today the Cathedral school is having an open day so the regular choir is augmented by fifty or so would-be mini choristers looking bemused along with doting parents, grandparents and siblings so the place is chocker. Good singing though and the sung items are more accessible than normal.
After the service I wander around. It's not got so many of the relics and interest that other more famous cathedrals have but the fan vaulting and the ceiling bosses are superb. The staff are friendly too which isn't always the case. Spend quite a few minutes flat on my back looking at the ceiling through a pair of binoculars. There is an unusual Crown of Thorns sculpture hanging suspended in one side chapel which looks heavy enough for anyone. By five o clock it’s getting dark and the place is closing up so I meander outside. It looks like a ‘St Pauls copycat’ protest has set up camp outside as there are a number of tents pitched along the north side. They must be freezing.
1420 A rainbow appears over the Exe on the way back which I manage to photograph from my seat in the carriage. It's a shame I didn't have more time to spend looking at wildlife but I really wanted to get to the cathedral before it gets dark.
The brown spire of St Michael and all Angels parish church dominates the skyline as we pull into Exeter St Thomas station.
1445 Make my way to the buff-coloured, somewhat squat-looking west end of the cathedral. Some of the statuary has seen better days it looks as if the conservationists have had a hand in insisting they keep old stone amongst the new.
Inside, evensong is just about to start so I join in. Normally there are plenty of seats for these things but today the Cathedral school is having an open day so the regular choir is augmented by fifty or so would-be mini choristers looking bemused along with doting parents, grandparents and siblings so the place is chocker. Good singing though and the sung items are more accessible than normal.
After the service I wander around. It's not got so many of the relics and interest that other more famous cathedrals have but the fan vaulting and the ceiling bosses are superb. The staff are friendly too which isn't always the case. Spend quite a few minutes flat on my back looking at the ceiling through a pair of binoculars. There is an unusual Crown of Thorns sculpture hanging suspended in one side chapel which looks heavy enough for anyone. By five o clock it’s getting dark and the place is closing up so I meander outside. It looks like a ‘St Pauls copycat’ protest has set up camp outside as there are a number of tents pitched along the north side. They must be freezing.
I think I have partly achieved my aim down here in deepest Devon as I feel I know the place a little better. To misquote, time to Go East, old man.
Wednesday 8 February 2012
43 Margate and 44 Whitstable, Kent 16th January 2012
I vacate my awful B and B as soon as possible and make my way across the beach towards the Turner Art Gallery but I approach I have a sinking feeling and no, it’s not quicksand. The sinking feeling is regret at my decision to alter my itinerary because I discover that my chief reason for coming to Margate has been in vain since the Gallery is closed on Mondays! It’s at this point that I understand why in Old Testament stories they say ‘and he rent his clothes’ because that is what I felt like doing. I'm afraid that has to go down as a logistical blunder of the first order. Ho hum... the trouble with visiting a resort in the winter is that’s it is in essence closed during the week.
I was feeling somewhat depressed until I remembered the family motto Where There’s a Wills There’s a Way. So I decide to put it down to experience, enjoy Margate as I find it, and then go on down the coast to Whitstable – no idea what’s there I’ve not done any research so that’ll be kinda fun.
I was feeling somewhat depressed until I remembered the family motto Where There’s a Wills There’s a Way. So I decide to put it down to experience, enjoy Margate as I find it, and then go on down the coast to Whitstable – no idea what’s there I’ve not done any research so that’ll be kinda fun.
1002 Margate is a mix of the modern and the minging. The Turner Contemporary (outside at least L) is in stark angular concrete and glass facing out to sea but then there are run down lido’s and rusting railings in the Winter Gardens complex. Margate railway station is a lovely, unexpected gem: I couldn’t find a completion date on it but it screams Art Deco. I later find out that it opened in 1926, was designed by Edwin Maxwell Fry and is now Grade 2 listed. For me, it’s the best building in the town and one of the handsomest railway station buildings anywhere - but then I like that period.
Margate is, of course, dominated by its beach: large expanses of sand exposing rock pools at low tide. I know it’s not the holiday season but there is far less rubbish than on many Cornish beaches, perhaps ocean currents do not bring it here. There is the odd redshank prodding away at the mud and many, many gulls mooching around like groups of teenagers with skateboards, occasionally taking off to do some aerobatic Flips and Slides.
My walk takes me past an in-progress flood barrier which appears to be just a set of steps so I’m not sure how that is going to work (pipe up here brother Richard if you know). OK that’s Margate, the sight of the closed art gallery is nagging at me – off to Whitstable, stopping again to admire the station ticket hall – drool.
1104. Whitstable has got one of those High Streets you imagine hasn't changed much in years apart from the cars and the double yellow lines. Small, traditional shops like haberdashers, sweetshops with jars in the window and butchers who know how to butch.
A local in the cafe recommends Whitstable Castle so after a cup of tea I turn eastwards down the narrow Squeeze Gut Alley (which lives up to it’s name) to the coast path, passing piles of oyster shells being recycled (into what it doesn’t say). Past the romantically named Dead Man’s Corner - so called because anything or body unlucky enough to be drowned washed up here - and on to Whitstable Castle.
1301 Take a tour of the Castle which is in reality an 18th century manor house with castellations that has been added to over the years. It has an interesting history with eight previous owners, some more virtuous than others, and is now run by the Council. The view from its position at the top of a hill is great, only marred by the socking great gravel works on the quay.
1336 Have had to run for the train after spending slightly too long in a shop choosing a souvenir of Whitstable. Shows how unseasonal the weather is because I worked up quite a sweat.
1440 I've an hour to kill so spend it exploring the shops of Faversham: a small town wedged between the isle of Sheppey and the River Swale. It's nice. Compact, with some interesting shops and in a charity shop I purchase a board game for my collection that I’ve been after for £1. I would’ve like to have walked up the creek to the nature reserve, but time did not permit so I content myself instead by looking at a building on stone columns as it reminds me of a similar one in Wootton Bassett – sorry Royal Wootton Bassett - and a hexagonal Victorian pillar box. The weather is still gloriously sunny and not too cold considering it is mid-winter. As I muse on the journey home I think to myself that there is enough around here to justify a return visit...this time when the gallery is open!
My walk takes me past an in-progress flood barrier which appears to be just a set of steps so I’m not sure how that is going to work (pipe up here brother Richard if you know). OK that’s Margate, the sight of the closed art gallery is nagging at me – off to Whitstable, stopping again to admire the station ticket hall – drool.
1104. Whitstable has got one of those High Streets you imagine hasn't changed much in years apart from the cars and the double yellow lines. Small, traditional shops like haberdashers, sweetshops with jars in the window and butchers who know how to butch.
A local in the cafe recommends Whitstable Castle so after a cup of tea I turn eastwards down the narrow Squeeze Gut Alley (which lives up to it’s name) to the coast path, passing piles of oyster shells being recycled (into what it doesn’t say). Past the romantically named Dead Man’s Corner - so called because anything or body unlucky enough to be drowned washed up here - and on to Whitstable Castle.
1301 Take a tour of the Castle which is in reality an 18th century manor house with castellations that has been added to over the years. It has an interesting history with eight previous owners, some more virtuous than others, and is now run by the Council. The view from its position at the top of a hill is great, only marred by the socking great gravel works on the quay.
1336 Have had to run for the train after spending slightly too long in a shop choosing a souvenir of Whitstable. Shows how unseasonal the weather is because I worked up quite a sweat.
1440 I've an hour to kill so spend it exploring the shops of Faversham: a small town wedged between the isle of Sheppey and the River Swale. It's nice. Compact, with some interesting shops and in a charity shop I purchase a board game for my collection that I’ve been after for £1. I would’ve like to have walked up the creek to the nature reserve, but time did not permit so I content myself instead by looking at a building on stone columns as it reminds me of a similar one in Wootton Bassett – sorry Royal Wootton Bassett - and a hexagonal Victorian pillar box. The weather is still gloriously sunny and not too cold considering it is mid-winter. As I muse on the journey home I think to myself that there is enough around here to justify a return visit...this time when the gallery is open!
Thursday 2 February 2012
42 the Great Wall of Ramsgate, Kent 15th January 2012
1345 The train from Canterbury is proceeding in a leisurely way along the line, following the Great Stour. Water craft are laid up for the winter along the meandering river fringed by dried up reed beds with solitary walkers on the towpath.
Ramsgate is stuck right out on the eastern end of Kent and is one of a number of seaside holiday resorts made popular in the 19th century. It has a harbour and a large marina but the reason I am going is to see the ‘Great Wall of Ramsgate’. I’d no idea this existed until I trawled the internet for attractions in East Kent and it caught my imagination.
1514 I’ve found the GWR! What an amazing and very simple idea! The town is redeveloping along the sea front hence the builders have put up wooden hoardings around their site. Instead of leaving this blank, local artists, schools and seemingly anybody have produced large picture to be mounted on the ‘wall’. Some are very accomplished, others naive but they all have a common theme around ‘Ramsgate – past, present and future’. Very interesting. My favourites were one by an artist call Giles (though surely not the cartoonist I thought he’s dead) and an abstract loosely based on an aerial view of the marina.
Incredibly, this has been up for months and hasn’t been vandalised which is a tribute to the town. I’m not sure a ‘Great Wall of Andover’ would last as long.
1600 I walk circuitously back to the station along the seafront taking in the scene. In a small park, two dogs are chasing each other over a stick heedless of the damage they are causing to the winter pansies in the flower beds.
1630 Arrive at the station through the fading light to find the trains have been replaced by a bus service. Good job I did not bring my bike on this occasion though Margate is hardly a long way away.
1949 In the Margate B and B. Oh dear. The archetypal ‘dragon’ seaside landlady is alive and well! She has a fixation with dolphins they are everywhere in this place. Even the many handwritten notes around the room and house instructing guests what they can, and mostly can’t, do are shaped like dolphins! The landlady herself is anything but happy and plumbs new depths on the dourness scale. I survive the one night I am staying but would not have stayed another which I don’t say often.
1600 I walk circuitously back to the station along the seafront taking in the scene. In a small park, two dogs are chasing each other over a stick heedless of the damage they are causing to the winter pansies in the flower beds.
1630 Arrive at the station through the fading light to find the trains have been replaced by a bus service. Good job I did not bring my bike on this occasion though Margate is hardly a long way away.
1949 In the Margate B and B. Oh dear. The archetypal ‘dragon’ seaside landlady is alive and well! She has a fixation with dolphins they are everywhere in this place. Even the many handwritten notes around the room and house instructing guests what they can, and mostly can’t, do are shaped like dolphins! The landlady herself is anything but happy and plumbs new depths on the dourness scale. I survive the one night I am staying but would not have stayed another which I don’t say often.
The one redeeming feature is the view from my room: right over the beach towards what is now tomorrow’s destination – the Turner Contemporary art gallery.
Tuesday 31 January 2012
41 Canterbury Cathedral, Kent, 14th and 15th January 2012
Photos
I anticipate I’m in for lots of Winter sunshine as I embark on another long weekend of 50@fifty, this time to Kent. The first leg should be a straightforward run up to Waterloo except that engineering work means it will take about twice the time - cursed engineers! To cap it all I’m starting later than usual because I’ve had to attend a church meeting that same morning - there's dedication to the Cause for you!
1145 Sat in a lively carriage of day trippers: friends talking, a granny in a red knitted cap reading the Express. Everywhere is sunshine I feel it's going to be a great day. Settle down to my book. See you at the other end.
1238 The train is diverted through my old stamping ground of Staines.
1452 Now trundling through the pleasant Kent countryside passing stands of denuded hazel/willow and horticulture poly tunnels.
1626 So here I am in fading light doing a whirlwind tour of Canterbury cathedral having paid the incredible £9 entry fee. An impressive building but it’s not my favourite. You can't see end to end like you can at Salisbury - too much stuff in the way. My ticket is good for 12 months though, so I do what I can tonight and decide there and then to alter tomorrow’s itinerary so I shall come back in the morning.
The cathedral is quite big on martyrs and martyrdom which is, I suppose, to be expected. They keep a lit candle where Becket’s shrine was before Henry vee-eye-eye-eye did away with it.
1651. The cathedral closes at 5pm and I notice that subtle ‘No Entry’ signs discreetly appear along with clerical bouncers posted strategically that inevitably guide visitors ever so gently and inexorably out of the building. Evening has dulled the colours of the stained glass, so I go into the cloisters and admire them from the outside, the electric lighting casting the design in reverse. Time to make my way to the B and B.
2051 Settled in my tiny room – I wondered why it was cheap. Grab a meal at one of the many pubs - sausage and mash with rather stringy French beans. I’m hoping to see more of Canterbury tomorrow.
15th January:
0800 Another sunny morning. Other guests include a French couple who surprise their host by shaking his hand at breakfast and a family with a student daughter in tow.
0920 wandering through the empty streets of Canterbury taking advantage of the deserted roads and the unseasonally good light to take a few photos. The Cathedral bell evocatively tolls for Matins as it must have done for hundreds of years sounding rather deep and discordant to my ear. It's lovely having the city centre to myself apart from a few early bird tourists and the odd road sweeper in day-glo orange.
0920 wandering through the empty streets of Canterbury taking advantage of the deserted roads and the unseasonally good light to take a few photos. The Cathedral bell evocatively tolls for Matins as it must have done for hundreds of years sounding rather deep and discordant to my ear. It's lovely having the city centre to myself apart from a few early bird tourists and the odd road sweeper in day-glo orange.
0945 SLR camera battery is flat and I haven’t brought my charger so relying on iPod and pocket camera.
1030 I join the congregation at the Methodist chapel and afterwards chat to a couple over coffee. The chapel still has a choir which is nice. The inside of the chapel is plain in stark contrast to the high ostentation of the cathedral.
1240 Sticking to my revised itinerary, I return to the cathedral at midday and see the cathedral and East end windows literally in a better light. I am beginning to revise my opinion - I think this cathedral is rather special. I buy a very reasonably priced short booklet and fall into conversation with the cathedral volunteer guides. No one knows what happened to Becket’s body or what his shrine looked like. The guide points out the groove in the tile floor where millions of pilgrims’ knees wore it away.
As a piece of medieval theatre, to footsore pilgrims it could not have disappointed. Pilgrims would’ve gone through a tunnel and queued up two flights of steps before entering the shrine of Thomas Becket. If that wasn’t enough then the amazing stained glass all around the east end and the apse of the cathedral would’ve made their long journeys worthwhile. It’s funny to think that Henry VIII ordered the shrine and all traces of the cult of Thomas Becket to be destroyed, but seemingly missed the windows which record miracles attributed to the saint!
As a piece of medieval theatre, to footsore pilgrims it could not have disappointed. Pilgrims would’ve gone through a tunnel and queued up two flights of steps before entering the shrine of Thomas Becket. If that wasn’t enough then the amazing stained glass all around the east end and the apse of the cathedral would’ve made their long journeys worthwhile. It’s funny to think that Henry VIII ordered the shrine and all traces of the cult of Thomas Becket to be destroyed, but seemingly missed the windows which record miracles attributed to the saint!
I definitely get a sense of the size of the Medieval Thomas Becket cult. Today we go to this building for a different reason though the money collected goes to the same purpose – to maintain the building.
1330 Hot foot it to the train station and Ramsgate, my next destination.
Friday 27 January 2012
40 Tewkesbury Abbey, Gloucestershire, 22nd October 2011
0715 Off to visit Tewkesbury where there is an art exhibition by Ian McKillop in the Abbey. A pink dawn glow is present in the sky as I cycle through Salisbury occasionally glimpsing the slender spire of the cathedral.
0725 Someone is doing a complicated transaction at the ticket booth. I ask myself why does it take two members of staff though?
0808 The train is quiet as we pause at Westbury with people dozing or talking softly amongst themselves. A girl with the longest dreadlocks I have ever seen is reading the Guardian.
0956 Alighting at Ashchurch station I’m pleasantly surprised to find that a cycle path has been built all the way into Tewkesbury so I head straight for the medieval abbey and the exhibition. The paintings are largely based on biblical themes and scenes and I’m not taken by very many of them except one illustrating the flight into Egypt after Jesus’s birth. Mary and Joseph are shown walking away from the viewer while stones on the path behind them morph Escher-like into broken baby dolls. It sounds strange in description but, for me, has the most impact.
I’ve brought my camera so spend an hour or so photographing in the abbey - the roof bosses are especially interesting. Have to lay the camera on its back on top of my anorak to get a steady shot. Even so, not many turn out very well.
1215 Feel mentally exhausted on emerging from the Abbey so indulge in a cup of tea at the Abbey cafe called Touching Souls which is notable for having a bronze statue outside that forms the basis of a bad pun – see the photo. I still have some time before I need to start back so I wander up the street and come across the Methodist chapel where there is a notice outside advertising Creation – A Celebration. Intrigued, I go in and find it to be a travelling exhibition interpreting the Genesis creation story made up of forty-two panels of embroidery and painting by a lady called Su Symons. Now, this is one of those moments for me, I’m sure you’ve had them, where the jaw drops in amazement: of all the things I’ve seen this year this has to be one of the best – a real gem which I just stumbled across. Hundreds and hundreds of hours of work; well, well worth seeking out if it comes your way. It’s difficult to put across, but think Kit-William’s-Masquerade-crossed-with-the Lindisfarne-Gospels-and-the-Alhambra. For example one panel shows paintings of butterflies with an embroidered border, really finely drawn; and in another she’s reversed the pattern, embroidering the butterflies in just as much detail. There are probably better artists and better needleworkers but to have both of those talents...? Check out this web site for a few shots illustrating the work:
After ogling at the exhibition and feeling rather elated, I explore Tewkesbury a little. Lots of alleyways criss-cross the town because frequent flooding meant that there was little room for its burgeoning Victorian population to expand outwards. The last flooding was in 2009 and made the national news as I recall. It does give the town a compact feel, being bounded on two sides by the Severn and there is no bridge.
1810 The train back is crowded with middle-aged footie fans returning from some lower division away match or other. Still, I manage to find a seat and by the time we pass Westbury it is mostly empty. Doze off only to awake just in time to scramble off the train at Salisbury – whew that was a close one!
Sunday 8 January 2012
38. Whipsnade Tree Cathedral & 39. Tring Natural History Museum, Hertfordshire, 15th October 2011
Photos:
1100 Robert looked after me at Redbourn and didn’t mind me watching England play world cup rugby on the TV while he worked...ahem, moving swiftly on...I now cycle north out of Redbourn through villages and lanes that were vaguely familiar to me from my ‘Reading-to-Redbourn-Ridgeway-Ramble’ of a couple of years ago. I’m on my way to visit a National Trust property near Whipsnade, the Tree Cathedral, before going on to the Natural History Museum collection at Tring. The day is sunny and the leaves are just on the turn – perfect English Autumn weather.
1115 Now I am at the ‘Cathedral’, being a memorial conceived by an Edmund Keil Blyth to three of his comrades from the First World War. Rather poignantly planting was started in the 1930’s and lasted for 9 years so must have finished near to or in WWII. Different species of tree are laid out in the plan of a medieval cathedral complete with cloisters and corner towers. The interlocking branches of the trees in the ‘Nave’ echo the fan roofs of Lincoln, Lichfield and Hereford I’d seen in earlier trips and I get a photo of Autumn sunshine through the trees, clinging on to the last of this year’s frondescence. A peaceful place to wander through slowly and think, take a few photos, walk a dog and watch the seasons turn...
1315 I’ve cycled on to Tring on the other side of the Chilterns where I stop for a sandwich at a shop on the high street. Get talking to a local pensioner who was, I suspect, a cyclist in his younger days as he is interested in where I’m going and where I’ve come from.
Where I am going to is to the Natural History Museum’s satellite housing Lord Rothschild’s collection of stuffed animal specimens. Taxidermy always seemed to me to be a rather macabre and slightly suspect Victorian habit – reminiscent of elephant heads and tiger rugs so I’m not sure whether I’m going to enjoy it...
1315 I’ve cycled on to Tring on the other side of the Chilterns where I stop for a sandwich at a shop on the high street. Get talking to a local pensioner who was, I suspect, a cyclist in his younger days as he is interested in where I’m going and where I’ve come from.
Where I am going to is to the Natural History Museum’s satellite housing Lord Rothschild’s collection of stuffed animal specimens. Taxidermy always seemed to me to be a rather macabre and slightly suspect Victorian habit – reminiscent of elephant heads and tiger rugs so I’m not sure whether I’m going to enjoy it...
1630 Have emerged from the museum with the feeling that was different to what I had expected. Yes, at one level it is a collection of dead stuffed animals, but what a collection! An amazing variety from every part of the world and genus: a platoon of zebra in various poses, giant tortoise, common and rarer birds, a crab six feet across, wonderfully convoluted stick insects and curiosities like Mexican fleas which have been dressed up in clothes! - this was the craze in Mexico some years back. OK, that last one is a bit of an oddity, but the museum goes to lengths to emphasise the serious scientific importance of the collection for species identification and it is interesting to see examples of closely related species put together so you can compare the differences. Size is another thing, you cannot appreciate size when seen on the television or through binoculars.
In spite of the fact that a large notice next to the rhinoceros says clearly that no genuine rhino horn is used, the museum had suffered a break-in in August when thieves stole the artificial ones.
Outside, I stop to admire the museum building itself: a rather handsome red brick Edwardian job which hasn’t changed a great deal inside or out. So then, I make my way to the station to catch a train home. Tring is a lovely though rather busy town and I stayed in a b and b here on my Ridgeway walk. The only problem is that the station is rather far out of the town so I’m glad I have my bike this time!
Wednesday 4 January 2012
Monsal Trail Postscript
BBC iplayer link to the Railway Walks episode I referred to in an earlier post.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/i/dtp4b/
should be good for about 5 days.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/i/dtp4b/
should be good for about 5 days.
Saturday 31 December 2011
36. John Bunyon Museum Bedford and 37. Cowper and Newton Museum Olney Buckinghamshire, 14th October 2011
Photos
I must have been about ten years old in Sunday School in Mevagissey listening to Mrs Ewing reading Bunyon’s ‘the Pilgrims Progress’ to us - in modern English I might add! I remember sitting on the oversized seats of an old caravan parked round the back of the chapel that served as our ‘room’. In my teens I re-read it and, while some of the puritan moralising and theology is not my thing, it is a very clever allegory and a fast-moving story to boot – all written by a 17th century tinker.
I think it was this memory that spurred me to check out the Bunyon Museum. I vaguely knew he was from Bedford and had been put in jail but that was about it – nothing else.
0800 The day promises to be a sunny one and I need to catch the train from Oakham back to Leicester. The pub breakfast tanks me up with the requisite calories so I puff up the hill from Broughton-in-Rutland back to town and am soon on my way.
1156 After navigating the busy shopping centre of Bedford I arrive in one piece at the Bunyon Museum next door to his chapel which I decide to investigate later. Once again, the museum staff are happy to accommodate the rucksack and I feel a bit like Christian in the story as I unload my own burden from my back!
The first thing I see when I turn the corner at the top of the stairs leading to the museum is a waxwork of the man himself and he was huge – well over six foot and broad. The museum guide points out a few of the artefacts: the most interesting is his tinker’s anvil which is a 60lb lump of iron that he would carry with him as he travelled from house to house. I can see where he got the idea of Christian carrying his burden!
1156 After navigating the busy shopping centre of Bedford I arrive in one piece at the Bunyon Museum next door to his chapel which I decide to investigate later. Once again, the museum staff are happy to accommodate the rucksack and I feel a bit like Christian in the story as I unload my own burden from my back!
The first thing I see when I turn the corner at the top of the stairs leading to the museum is a waxwork of the man himself and he was huge – well over six foot and broad. The museum guide points out a few of the artefacts: the most interesting is his tinker’s anvil which is a 60lb lump of iron that he would carry with him as he travelled from house to house. I can see where he got the idea of Christian carrying his burden!
The staff in the museum are all dyed-in-the-wool Bunyon fans of couse, and proudly show me the editions of his books translated into many languages. There’s also a timeline putting events in Bunyon’s life in context - interesting times he lived through - Civil War and all.
After about an hour I’m all ‘Bunyoned-out’ and wander to the chapel next door for a cup of coffee and a look at the stained glass and bronze engravings which, no surprise, show scenes from the PP. The interior is pretty much unchanged and in the puritan style with a high central pulpit, dark varnish on unadorned wood pews and an encircling gallery.
1250 Leave the town behind to cycle to Olney through the level Bedfordshire countryside, not stopping except to check that a fellow cyclist working on his bike is OK – he calls back to me that he’s got a couple of punctures but has everything to fix them with. As I approach Olney from a small bridge over the nearby river Ouse the view of the tall-steepled church with its clutch of houses around it is great – the steeple has little windows built into it, perhaps to let the sound of the bells out? The vista reminds me of a Constable painting of Salisbury Cathedral.
1500 Olney is the home of another museum dedicated to the lives of John Newton and William Cowper where I’m greeted by an archetypal ‘little old lady’. Newton – famous for ‘Amazing Grace’ of course and a reformed slave trader, Cowper for loads of other hymns and poetry. The collection is in the house that Cowper lived at which gives it a good atmosphere especially when you look at old pictures of the very room you are standing in! There are artefacts belonging to C or N, others are books or ephemera based on their lives some of which is rather sad - Cowper’s life was blighted by his illness which we would now call bipolarism that caused him to attempt suicide on a number of occasions.
1500 Olney is the home of another museum dedicated to the lives of John Newton and William Cowper where I’m greeted by an archetypal ‘little old lady’. Newton – famous for ‘Amazing Grace’ of course and a reformed slave trader, Cowper for loads of other hymns and poetry. The collection is in the house that Cowper lived at which gives it a good atmosphere especially when you look at old pictures of the very room you are standing in! There are artefacts belonging to C or N, others are books or ephemera based on their lives some of which is rather sad - Cowper’s life was blighted by his illness which we would now call bipolarism that caused him to attempt suicide on a number of occasions.
I come back to the museum entrance to find a group of locals having a bit of a social gathering. They try to make me stay for a pot of tea and would’ve done but unfortunately I’ve a train to catch in – staying with Robert tonight in Redbourn.
Olney is a lovely town with a good community atmosphere. After visiting the C and N museum you can go just down the road and look at Newton’s church and the market place where Cowper exercised his pet hares (!).
1600 Cycled to Wolverton to catch my connecting train to Harpenden. The train was stuffed with commuters and it didn't help that someone had brought an enormous bike and trailer on board. Standing room only but I was only going two stops. Harpenden to Redbourn was probably the scariest bike ride I’ve had and I ended up doing most of it on the pavement. Come on St Albans DC get those cycle paths built!
1600 Cycled to Wolverton to catch my connecting train to Harpenden. The train was stuffed with commuters and it didn't help that someone had brought an enormous bike and trailer on board. Standing room only but I was only going two stops. Harpenden to Redbourn was probably the scariest bike ride I’ve had and I ended up doing most of it on the pavement. Come on St Albans DC get those cycle paths built!
Monday 12 December 2011
34. Lincoln Cathedral and 35. Rutland Water Cycle Trail 13th October 2011
Photos
Leave the Big Brother house (thanks for the hospitality Jane & Richard) to head into Lincoln along the old Boston to Lincoln railway line that follows the ruler-straight course of the River Witham, a semi-artificial canal dug by the Romans. The weather and terrain are perfect for cycling and I only stop occasionally to look at the information boards and take a photo or two. As I approach the city I can glimpse the triple towers of the cathedral on it's hill, drawing ever nearer. Arriving at the Close I find a fire appliance dealing with a flood, I suppose, as there doesn’t seem to be a fire but there is a lot of water.
1000 Lincoln cathedral has adopted the practice of an entry fee which I‘ve already mentioned I‘m against. I must say though that it was worth it because the building is stunning inside. As a bonus they also have a sensory exhibition of modern carvings and marquetry themed on the Stations of the Cross by William Fairbank. Having done some marquetry, I can appreciate the work but also the way he uses imperfections in the wood to enhance the art. For example, in one panel a shrinkage spilt in the wood runs through the centre of the Cross echoing the rent in the temple veil at the moment of Christ’s death, I suppose.
I would have liked to have spent longer in the cathedral than the two hours that I did but my itinerary does not permit it. I’m finding that this, combined with the shortened daylight at this time of year, is the main disadvantage of travelling by train. So I make my way down the appropriately-named Steep Hill to the station, carefully wheeling my bike among the oncoming tourists and shoppers. I can see from the short time I spent there Lincoln has a lot more to offer than just the cathedral and I will have to find another excuse to visit.
Question: what connects Lincoln cathedral to Truro cathedral and Lincoln cathedral with Salisbury cathedral? The answer is at the bottom of this post.
1315 Caught the train south, destination Oakham, sitting opposite a chap with a rucksack who flopped down in his seat puffing and panting after running for the train.
1521 Frustratingly, I miss the connecting train at Leicester by a few seconds. The next is in an hour’s time so I nip back to the Space Centre to buy a couple of postcards – now that is the advantage of taking a bike.
1655 Alight at Oakham station and ride through the pleasant town to Rutland Water which has had an off-road cycle way built all the way around the reservoir. The water seems low to me and there are hundreds of water birds resting while they migrate south. The trail is really lovely and deserted apart from the odd sheep and a few geese cropping the grass - thankfully there is no wind so I make good progress though it is dusk by the time I go full circle and get back to Oakham. My lodgings are at the Old Plough Inn at a place called Braughton-in-Rutland about four miles from Oakham.
1915 Doh! I think I missed a turning somewhere and am heading out blissfully into rural Leicestershire in the pitch dark. Yes, the GPS confirms it and there is nothing for it but to turn around...
1955 An appeal to all drivers... Please dip your lights when you see a cyclist! This does not appear to be the habit of Leicestershire drivers and once I found myself on the wrong side of the road and another time in the verge.
1315 Caught the train south, destination Oakham, sitting opposite a chap with a rucksack who flopped down in his seat puffing and panting after running for the train.
1521 Frustratingly, I miss the connecting train at Leicester by a few seconds. The next is in an hour’s time so I nip back to the Space Centre to buy a couple of postcards – now that is the advantage of taking a bike.
1655 Alight at Oakham station and ride through the pleasant town to Rutland Water which has had an off-road cycle way built all the way around the reservoir. The water seems low to me and there are hundreds of water birds resting while they migrate south. The trail is really lovely and deserted apart from the odd sheep and a few geese cropping the grass - thankfully there is no wind so I make good progress though it is dusk by the time I go full circle and get back to Oakham. My lodgings are at the Old Plough Inn at a place called Braughton-in-Rutland about four miles from Oakham.
1915 Doh! I think I missed a turning somewhere and am heading out blissfully into rural Leicestershire in the pitch dark. Yes, the GPS confirms it and there is nothing for it but to turn around...
1955 An appeal to all drivers... Please dip your lights when you see a cyclist! This does not appear to be the habit of Leicestershire drivers and once I found myself on the wrong side of the road and another time in the verge.
2000 Finally make it to the Old Plough, a typical country pub with rooms above the beer cellar where the Landlord stashes my bike for the night. I indulge in a hot shower, a pint of bitter and a plate of haddock & chips in that order before spreading myself out in the large room they have given me. A good day – caught up with some of my family; explored one of the greatest buildings in England and have seen the sun set over Rutland Water – perfect!
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++Lincoln cathedral had the highest spire of any English cathedral until it fell down in 1549, when Salisbury cathedral became the highest. And Edward White Benson was chancellor of Lincoln but became the first Bishop of Truro in 1877.
Sunday 11 December 2011
33. National Space Museum Leicester, 12th October 2011
Photos:
I grew up in the era of the Apollo missions and was enthusiastic enough to build model Saturn V and Lunar Lander Airfix kits. While this fanaticism faded as I grew up I still follow some of the various space exploration stories and can appreciate that the UK has quite a prospering, if under-publicised, space engineering and research industry.
0800 Lichfield, it appears, has the luxury of two stations for this modestly- sized city. It’s a much brighter day today so, donning my sun hat per doctors orders in lieu of a cycle helmet, I make my way to the somewhat ‘Eastern-Bloc-looking’ Lichfield Trent Valley station about a mile from the city centre where most of my fellow travellers waiting on the platform are suited businessmen. Change at Nuneaton’s modern, airy station onward to Leicester and the National Space Centre.
Leicester is one of the most multicultural cities in the UK and this is apparent just cycling through the centre. For most of the way from the station to the Space Centre there is a cycle route by the river through a park.
Leicester is one of the most multicultural cities in the UK and this is apparent just cycling through the centre. For most of the way from the station to the Space Centre there is a cycle route by the river through a park.
1255 Arrive at the National Space Centre which I have to admit is very well done. The entrance doors look like airlocks and the toilets have a space-age feel – all stainless steel and girders. You are not even safe in the cafe where one of the tables is located underneath a rocket ‘motor’ which 'ignites' from time to time with appropriate smoke, light and sound effects while you drink your coffee! The bulk of the Centre, though, is a ‘fun’ exhibit arena with a bit of education thrown in so I enter into the spirit of it...
1346... I‘ve just destroyed Leicester with a medium-sized meteorite....
1500 ... fail my astronaut training because I incorrectly input my weight as 6kg and I’m told off for forgetting the tools when I pack my rocket!
Trivia time:
· An 11 year old girl suggested ‘Pluto’ as the name of the planet after the god of the underworld who could make himself invisible. The shortened name ‘PL’ is also the initials of the planet’s discoverer Percival Lovell.
· Voyager 1 has travelled 12 billion miles: the power of its signal reaching earth is now 20 billion times weaker than a watch battery and it’s still sending data
1530 Round off my visit with a sound and light show ‘We Are Astronomers’ narrated by David Tennant in one of those 360 degree cinema dome theatres. Lots of use of computer graphics, the most memorable being a brilliant segue from a sequence inside the Large Hadron Collider to the Northern Lights. My only regret is that I did not bring the boys here when they were younger, they would have loved it.
Wednesday 7 December 2011
31. Cannock Chase and 32. Lichfield Cathedral Staffordshire, 11th October
Photos:
0842 Rugeley in the morning is not much better than Rugeley in the evening. Still, I go for a wander to get some breakfast and come across a weird pet shop supplying snakes, geckos, lizards and other unusual pets. I browse for a bit listening to the shopkeeper and customer discuss the cost of different sizes of rats...
1000 – Head out of town towards Hednesford following the minor roads. I want to visit a Museum there about Cannock Chase before heading out for a ride on the Chase itself. Mum and Dad used to cycle around these parts on a tandem, so I thought I would keep up the tradition albeit single-handedly! Happily, the weather has perked up considerably – should be a good day.
1138 Wandering around the Cannock Chase museum. I expected it to be a rural life museum but there is a lot about coal mining. It appears the area was dotted with coal mines until 1993 and there is a lot of detail right down to the names of the individual coal seams, the signalling used to lower and raise cages and the different types of gases, or ‘damps’ found in mines.
1138 Wandering around the Cannock Chase museum. I expected it to be a rural life museum but there is a lot about coal mining. It appears the area was dotted with coal mines until 1993 and there is a lot of detail right down to the names of the individual coal seams, the signalling used to lower and raise cages and the different types of gases, or ‘damps’ found in mines.
The exhibits are mostly static, but they also have an impressive model of a coal pit complete with working winding gear and cage, various audio narratives from locals and ex-miners and a recreation of a 1940’s room. Worryingly, the latter does not look dissimilar to houses of aunts and uncles I visited in my childhood in the 60’s.
I laugh at a preachy National Coal Board film about pit safety procedure which is quite revealing about the day to day workings of a pit and what it is actually like underground. The narrator definitely has a ‘Pathe News’ style, delivering gems such as ‘Ensure you follow the route across the site designated by The Management!’
One completely unexpected gallery tucked away in a corner was a timeline of toys and games with examples. I spent quite a bit of time reliving my youth before repairing to the cafe for a cuppa.
Museum Trivia:
Canaries were used to detect gas in mines until 1995(!) They had their own resuscitation chamber.
Mr Potato Head gave up his pipe in 1987 for political correctness
Play Doh was originally invented as a wallpaper cleaner
Six Lego bricks can be fitted together in over 102 million combinations
‘Damp’ is the term for gas in mines and comes from the German ‘Dampf’ meaning fog or vapour
1635 Have spent the last three hours cycling around some of Cannock Chase, which reminds me of the New Forest with it's mix of heath and woodland, and I’m now on my way to Lichfield to look at the cathedral before I find my digs for the night. The ol’ right knee is beginning to throb - I noticed this yesterday.
Central Lichfield puts me mind of Salisbury with straight streets in a grid, individual shops and a market place. There is more to Lichfield than it’s cathedral with it’s self-styled soubriquet of the ‘City of Philosophers’, being associated with Garrick, Dr Johnson and Erasmus Darwin.
I have seen the cathedral from a distance but have never been inside. Lots and lots of carved heads around the place - rather gloomy inside but then it's a gloomy day. Outside it has three spires (unique?), a West Front jam packed with statuary of kings and saints and it’s built in a lovely, warm salmon pink stone stained black here and there by the not-so-lovely Midlands air. The Close is compact with dog-collared clergy or occasional tourist wandering around and the cathedral school students trailing between lessons chattering.
The staff are welcoming so I give a donation. The organist is playing and suddenly the choir practises their evensong hymns – it’s amazing how the building comes alive - a lovely acoustic.
I fall in surreptitiously with a cleric giving a guided tour to what I think are a group of volunteers and learn a few things – he is enthusiastic and very proud of the carved 8th century angel Gabriel that was found under the floor in 2003. It was believed to have been hit 3 times with axes by Vikings trying to get the gold behind it. I take a closer look - Gabriel has a sort of ‘Mona Lisa’ enigmatic smile on his face! Lichfield has seen it’s fair share of strife as it was badly damaged during the Civil War, with the Chapter House the only part remaining with a roof.
1730 I stay for the evensong where the choir sings ‘Love Divine All Loves Excelling’ to the tune by Howard Goodall. Beautiful tune and, to my mind, changes the whole character of the hymn. Apparently Goodall struggled for quite a while but stepped into the shower one day and by the end had composed it in his head. ‘Given to me like a gift’ he said. Check out this link is you don’t know what I am talking about http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tis8E7IZDBU .
I fall in surreptitiously with a cleric giving a guided tour to what I think are a group of volunteers and learn a few things – he is enthusiastic and very proud of the carved 8th century angel Gabriel that was found under the floor in 2003. It was believed to have been hit 3 times with axes by Vikings trying to get the gold behind it. I take a closer look - Gabriel has a sort of ‘Mona Lisa’ enigmatic smile on his face! Lichfield has seen it’s fair share of strife as it was badly damaged during the Civil War, with the Chapter House the only part remaining with a roof.
1730 I stay for the evensong where the choir sings ‘Love Divine All Loves Excelling’ to the tune by Howard Goodall. Beautiful tune and, to my mind, changes the whole character of the hymn. Apparently Goodall struggled for quite a while but stepped into the shower one day and by the end had composed it in his head. ‘Given to me like a gift’ he said. Check out this link is you don’t know what I am talking about http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tis8E7IZDBU .
Make my way across the city to the b and b. Large room, not ensuite, but doesn’t matter. An all-you-can-eat Chinese meal in the town sets me up for the night.
Saturday 3 December 2011
30 Monsal Trail Derbyshire,10th October
Photos:
0900 A very blustery, grey overcast day does not allow Derbyshire to be seen in it’s best light and the town of Matlock within the Derwent valley below me is viewed through a light drizzle under clouds scudding overhead. I’m trying to stay on high roads as I think I will need to climb again ere long and thread my way through the estates and roads of the upper parts of the town. Eventually I have to drop down to the valley floor near Haddon Hall and it is tough going against the wind.
1022 The sky threatens rain which has so far not arrived. My aim is to join the eastern end of the Monsal Trail near Bakewell. The Trail is 8 ½ miles long and formed from the old Midlands Railway line. It was at one point in it’s history part of the main line but now is a cycle/walking trail encompassing two viaducts and five tunnels so I am hoping to be impressed. I first heard about it from a TV programme ‘Railway Walks’ with Julia Bradbury - I remember she said that she grew up around here and even interviewed her own dad on the programme!
1147 After leaving the main road near Bakewell and following a bridleway that rises to the North of the town I find the start of the trail off an unassuming minor road. It starts ordinarily enough, passing by upland farmland rather than hugging the river valley because the Duke of Rutland did not want the railway passing too close to Haddon Hall. Soon, however, the trail turns interesting: a long, dimly lit tunnel emerges onto the iconic Monsal Head viaduct high above the winding River Wye, and the scenery opens out into a fantastic Peak District vista of dales, crags and deep valleys. The viaduct can only be fully appreciated when you are not standing right on it so I walk some way out on a footpath to get a better view and take a few photos. It looks even better from a distance and I always marvel how the Victorians managed to build these things.
Continuing westwards the scenery gets even more stunning with the trail clinging to the side of the limestone gorge on a man-made buttress. (If you would like to see a video of a cycle through a tunnel it’s here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tdmEGSh7YI. At regular intervals you will see the recessed refuges used by navvies working in the tunnel to dodge the trains. It must have been pretty scary and very smokey).
1147 After leaving the main road near Bakewell and following a bridleway that rises to the North of the town I find the start of the trail off an unassuming minor road. It starts ordinarily enough, passing by upland farmland rather than hugging the river valley because the Duke of Rutland did not want the railway passing too close to Haddon Hall. Soon, however, the trail turns interesting: a long, dimly lit tunnel emerges onto the iconic Monsal Head viaduct high above the winding River Wye, and the scenery opens out into a fantastic Peak District vista of dales, crags and deep valleys. The viaduct can only be fully appreciated when you are not standing right on it so I walk some way out on a footpath to get a better view and take a few photos. It looks even better from a distance and I always marvel how the Victorians managed to build these things.
Continuing westwards the scenery gets even more stunning with the trail clinging to the side of the limestone gorge on a man-made buttress. (If you would like to see a video of a cycle through a tunnel it’s here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4tdmEGSh7YI. At regular intervals you will see the recessed refuges used by navvies working in the tunnel to dodge the trains. It must have been pretty scary and very smokey).
The Trail has a number of information boards along it’s route and even a gizmo that works like a clockwork radio – you select a channel, turn a handle and it spews out audio history anecdotes. I liked the one about everyone having to hold onto their plates in the restaurant car while the trains turned a particularly sharp bend at Rowsley station!
1329 Reach the Western end of the trail near Buxton where some enterprising chap has set up cycle hire and a basic cafe in a wooden shed where I shelter from the cold wind and indulge in a hot mug of coffee. The real ruler of the place is a energetic short-legged dog who insists that you throw a lump of wood which he duly fetches. I soon discovered that he will play this game ad infinitum with whoever is passing through.
I was going to return to Matlock via a different route but have enjoyed it so much I take the trail back to Bakewell. Rain is coming on more heavily but this doesn’t dampen my spirits – the Monsal Trail is a great ride and I’m glad I’ve done it. It can even hold a candle to the Camel Trail – better and more interesting in some parts - but doesn’t have the beauty of the estuary.
1500 Take the main A6 through Bakewell, of the tart fame, though in the town they call them Puddings. A very tourist-dependent place and I don’t blame them as it's undeniably pretty. It could do with a bypass, but I can’t see where you'd put it. Got back just in time to catch the 1536 from Matlock which puts me an hour ahead of my schedule to get to my b and b.
1717 Change at Tamworth - a concrete block of a station unusual for being at the meeting point of two railway lines that cross each other at right angles, one above the other.
2128 End the day staying at Fairways Motel, Rugeley. Rugeley is dominated by two coal-fired power stations and is the sort of place to pass through as quickly as possible rather than stay at. However, the proprietor is very jolly and even let's me use his hosepipe to wash the Derbyshire mud from my bike. It’s a good base from which to launch my next excursion – Cannock Chase.
1329 Reach the Western end of the trail near Buxton where some enterprising chap has set up cycle hire and a basic cafe in a wooden shed where I shelter from the cold wind and indulge in a hot mug of coffee. The real ruler of the place is a energetic short-legged dog who insists that you throw a lump of wood which he duly fetches. I soon discovered that he will play this game ad infinitum with whoever is passing through.
I was going to return to Matlock via a different route but have enjoyed it so much I take the trail back to Bakewell. Rain is coming on more heavily but this doesn’t dampen my spirits – the Monsal Trail is a great ride and I’m glad I’ve done it. It can even hold a candle to the Camel Trail – better and more interesting in some parts - but doesn’t have the beauty of the estuary.
1500 Take the main A6 through Bakewell, of the tart fame, though in the town they call them Puddings. A very tourist-dependent place and I don’t blame them as it's undeniably pretty. It could do with a bypass, but I can’t see where you'd put it. Got back just in time to catch the 1536 from Matlock which puts me an hour ahead of my schedule to get to my b and b.
1717 Change at Tamworth - a concrete block of a station unusual for being at the meeting point of two railway lines that cross each other at right angles, one above the other.
2128 End the day staying at Fairways Motel, Rugeley. Rugeley is dominated by two coal-fired power stations and is the sort of place to pass through as quickly as possible rather than stay at. However, the proprietor is very jolly and even let's me use his hosepipe to wash the Derbyshire mud from my bike. It’s a good base from which to launch my next excursion – Cannock Chase.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)