England: Some Photos of Here and There

I found that I still had photos not yet posted, so here are a few more:

I thought these were in Holland? I learned from my cousins that windmilles like this were used when the fens were drained. The fens were a large swampy area in East Anglia that were pretty much useless for agriculture until drained. The soil, once dried, proved extremely fertile, but eroded away over the years so now quite often the level of the fields is actually well below the roads and hedges. This mill at Madingley was once a grain mill but no longer in use. This is not the original mill on the site, either--this one was moved from Huntingdonshire in 1936 after the loss of the original mill in 1909.

 

During our visit to the American cemetery, an English robin obligingly posed for me. Much smaller than its American namesake, this little bird is really a charmer, don't you think?

 

A view of King's College Chapel in Cambridge. 

 

Nothing spectacular, really about this photo, except...see that statue up near the peak of the building? Larry looked up at it and said, "Don't jump!" He can be so random. I enjoyed seeing all the various turrets and chimney pots in Cambridge.

Saint Botolph's Church in Cambridge is has the oldest rood screen in the city, and the church itself dates to around 1350.  Orbs all around it; I'm not a believer in orbs, but they do seem to appear frequently photos taken in and around very old buildings. Dust, perhaps?

In Ely, this low row of buildings in the right foreground were where the monks lived when the monestary established by Saint Ethelreda was in existence. The buildings are still in use today--and these were built in the 800's!

In Swaffham, a worker enjoys the view from the second floor renovations of a building in the town's center.

On the way to Hunstanton, we stopped at the ruins of Castle Acre and its priory.

 

What good memories come back as I look at these photos again.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

England: Pubs and Food and Butcher Shops, A Randomly Rambling Post

This is the "pub tour." I told my husband I'd never been in so many bars in my entire life as I had during our stay in England. But a pub, as you probably know, is not a bar in the American sense. Pubs cater to families; the atmosphere is welcoming and friendly, and nowadays the old-time pub is shifting from a drinking establishment to more of a restaurant, with food gaining top billing.

These pics are in random order, with no real plan about how I presented them. I was just sorting through my photos and realized that I had quite a few of pubs and food, so here they are:

Below is the Red Lion in Grantchester. The exterior looks like Olde England, doesn't it? We didn't have an opportunity to eat here but did stop in one evening during their Beer Festival.

 

I was hoping for traditional music, but the night we visited the band was a reggae group. I like reggae but we weren't in the mood for it. It was chilly evening, too, and hanging out in a tent didn't look like fun to us. We did go inside briefly but didn't stay. The inside (no photos, unfortunately) was nice, very much like I expected with low ceilings, dark wood and warm golden light.

 

The Green Man is almost next door to the Red Lion. I loved the name; talk about harking back to olden times! Inside, however, it has been redecorated to a more upscale look, with the now-popular gray paint and clean modern lines. We ate lunch here; the food was good but the atmosphere was missing that coziness I associate with pubs, and there was no sign of the mysticism associated with the Green Man of folklore. Ah well.

Okay, this isn't a pub but I loved the pig outside! This was in Swaffham, and the name of the owner also struck me because my cousin Julie had told me just the day before that there were Papworths in our family tree. Meats and sausages displayed in the windows looked delicious. I wish we still had such shops in the US.

Again, not a pub but the next best thing: an English breakfast prepared by my cousin Les. I helped a little (only cooking the eggs). From the top, clockwise: toasted white bread that is much more full-bodied and flavorful than what passes for white bread in the US; good strong Yorkshire "Red" brand tea, black pudding (delicious!), broiled mushroom (to die for), fried egg, fresh tomato from the garden (the English and Irish like to cook the tomato but I prefer them fresh). In the center, sausages. I don't know what kind they were but they were delicious. While in the US "eating local" is a fairly new trend, in England people seem to eat that way as a matter of course. The eggs were free-range, the tomatoes grown by cousin John in Aunt Flo's garden, and Les knew the places where the sausage and black pudding were made.

This next photo was also in Swaffham, in the teashoppe where was stopped for a midmorning cuppa. Look at the cream on those scones! They were at least six inches high, I swear, heaped with raspberry jam and cream. My, my, my. I did not order one but they were certainly tempting.

 Now this was how I pictured a pub! This was the Rupert Brooke, Les' "local"--the place he went on weekends. Named for the poet who once lived in Grantchester and made it famous through his poem "The Old Vicarage, Grantchester", this was our last stop on our last evening in England, and it was a fine finish. It was reunion night for Les' class--they meet once a month here. When we walked in the place was alive with talk and laughter. We met Les' classmates and had a really good time talking with them all.

Warm and cozy atmosphere, comfortable seating, good company and good IPG ale--it was perfect. I, not being a beer drinker, stuck to my white wine. Before we left, the group sang "Country Roads" for us, the visiting West Virginians. We felt so welcome and at home! Sadly, the Rupert Brooke closed the next weekend, to be remodeled into an "upscale" restaurant. What could be more upscale than a place as welcoming as this?

I posted a bit about the Dog and Duck before. Owned by Les' friend Sam, this pub featured a fish and chips night that drew a large crowd. The food was excellent--it's odd how fried food can be so different. The fish and the potatoes were crispy and hot, but not at all greasy.

And look at this dessert! I ordered the chocolate-orange tart, which came with a side of vanilla ice cream. It was delicious, like a large chunk of chocolate with a hint of orange. Larry and I together could not eat all of it.

 

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein. 

England, Day 5: More from Grantchester

Grantchester: where to begin? Perhaps the best place is here, at the Old Vicarage. This is where Rupert Brooke had a rented room, and the place he wrote about in his poem, aptly titled "The Old Vicarage, Grantchester."

 His room, I believe, was in the vine-covered section to the right in the photo above. I doubt there was such a sweep of drive in his time, but perhaps there was; perhaps it was a carriageway. The Old Vicarage is now the home of the author Jeffrey Archer and his wife Mary. Archer has been steeped in scandal over the years (and spent time in jail for perjury), but his books continue to be best sellers, and his wife has stayed by his side through it all.

Striking red vines cover the brick walls surrounding the Archer's home. The lush described by Brooke in his poem is still evident in Grantchester

 The curving road just outside the vicarage gates is unusually quiet in this photo. Large trucks, bicyclists and cars passed with great regularity while we were walking, and I was impressed at the way they all avoided each other on this narrow road. My West Virginia roads are certainly narrow too, but don't see the volume of traffic generally as this road seems to handle.

Down a public pathway, and behind the vicarage, we found this idyllic spot, the water described in Brookes' poem:

And here is the old mill he referred to in his 1912 poem, still standing and in apparently good repair, although it is no longer an operating mill.

 

Willows and water, so peaceful and timeless.

 

Before leaving on Sunday we took another walk with cousin Les, this time along the river to see Byron's Pool. According to legend, Lord Byron came here as a student to bathe in the river. The area is now a public area, with little piers built for fishing and excellent walking paths.

And here is Byron's Pool:

 

Along the walkway, we saw this marker:

 

It looked like a grave marker, but Les said it was most likely a memorial to someone who loved to come here to walk. This is similar to our American roadside memorials that have become so commonplace in the last 20 years; they spring up wherever someone lost their lives. In England, as I understood it, a memorial can be placed at a favorite location (perhaps for a few--I would imagine there might be a charge for this privilege).

 

 

And this lovely walk spelled the end of our time in England. We were soon on the plane and flying to Ireland. Before I go there, though, I'll have a few more remebrances of England to share.

England: Sweet Aunt Flo

One of the treasures I brought home from England with me was the memory of my Aunt Flo.

Aunt Flo was the wife of my late Uncle Ted. I had met her in the late 1970's when they came to America for a visit; she had broken her leg just before the trip but came on anyway because, as she said, she wasn't about to miss the opportunity, and who knew when she might have another chance?

(at the Dog and Duck pub--or was it the Duck and Dog? Whichever, it was a fine place to eat.)

Now in her early 80's, Aunt Flo gets around beautifully in her home and keeps it as neat and clean as a pin. She still cooks, too, and goes for outings with her sons or her friends. Although her heart has caused some concern in the past few years, she still manages to do the things she wants to do.

Stories flowed whenever we were with her during our visit, which was just about every evening. Tea was always ready and piping hot, and cake was always on hand too. We would sit and sip our tea and listen to the memories coming alive in Aunt Flo's voice.

Born in London, she was one of the children evacuated during World War II as the threat of bombings became very real. Children were sent off with their name on a placard around their neck, and shuffled off the train into schools, churches or village halls. Locals would then come and look them over and decide which child they would take in. In Aunt Flo's words, it was like they were picking a kitten or a puppy. "Oh, I don't want that one, it has a runny nose, but I'll take that one, she has a nice smile." Can you imagine how the children must have felt? The picture below is from the British newspaper The Telegraph, and looks pretty much like the situation Aunt Flo described.



But it was this journey north into Cambridgeshire that brought Flo to Ted's neighborhood, and into our family. She was working in a pub as a cook by the time she met him, and he was working on a farm. Despite her mother's disapproval, Flo began seeing Ted and eventually they married. Their marriage lasted until just a few years ago, when my Uncle Ted passed away. She misses him keenly; he was the love of her life. Now her two sons keep close watch over her, and she continues to enjoy every minute of her days.

We had such a good time with her. In the photo above, we are all heading into the Dog and Duck pub for a good fish and chips dinner. My aunt was always ready to go wherever we wanted to go, and was great company every time.

I have a video of Aunt Flo singing with my cousin John but my computer and my phone are not on speaking terms so until I can outsmart one or the other, I will not be able to share it. I am so glad to have it though, as I can once again hear her lovely voice and laugh.


Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

England, Day 5: In Grantchester

If I have one regret in my life, it is that I did not go to England sooner. How I would have liked to know my Uncle Ted better; everything my cousins and my Aunt Flo tell me makes me realize what a wonderful person he was. He had many memories and stories too, of growing up with my mother. My cousins have shared many but I am sure I would have had questions, questions, questions.

My uncle loved to walk. He had a certain path he walked almost every day--a three mile public pathway from his home in Grantchester that took him into Cambridge. What did he do once he reached the city? I don't really know; perhaps John can tell me. I wonder if he went to a tea shoppe and read the paper before walking back home? I think that is what I would have done. When I go back to England, Uncle Ted's walk is on top of my list of things to do.

We took Aunt Flo for a little walk Saturday morning, through Grantchester and to the path and Uncle Ted's favorite bench. It was a lovely day for walking; the weather stayed clear and cool the whole time we were there, England showing us her best.

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Still marveling at the thatched roofs. Here's a closer look at one:

If you look closely, you'll notice that the thatch is overlaid with chicken wire to keep it in place. Genius.

Looking down a path. I was intrigued by the bumpout on the back of this house--what's it for, I wonder? And look how thick the thatch is.

 

Prettily painted doors on all the houses, and interesting chimneys too. 

This was the village school but now is a community center. We did not go to the art exhibit, just admired the exterior. Lots of orbs floating around...

Another nice home, and a red door peeking out of the greenery. I liked the rooflines in this photo.

 

Ah, the pubs! This is the Red Lion, where we had lunch after our wak.

 

And the other pub, the Green Man. (They were having a Beer Festival in the evening; we stopped by but didn't stay; it was too cold to be out in the tent and none of us were in the mood for reggae, that evening;s musical offering.) Note the odd light in the photo--no reason for it that I know, perhaps just the angle of the light.

 

And this is where my Uncle Ted loved to walk, along the River Cam. Les and Aunt Flo come here fairly often. I liked that about Grantchester--it was not difficult to get Aun Flo about in her chair. She can walk and does so at home but when she goes out, the chair provides a safer transport.

 This is the path to Cambridge that Uncle Ted walked every day. As he got older, he would walk into town and then take the bus home. I wish there were paths like this here; while there are a few, it's a good drive to get to them. In England there are any number of paths to choose from in a fairly close area. America's space is a blessing and sometimes a curse, as we are so reliant on our vehicles.

Randomw flowers twining up the side of a house; I saw many familiar flowers but there were also many I did not recognize. I think this is clematis, but I'm not sure.

 

And beautiful red berries against a stone wall. What simple beauty.

 

More about Grantchester tomorrow. There's much more to this pretty town than I have shown here.