Somerset

May 18

Left Exeter in Devon where we had some van work done (sort of “just in case” work) and David says the van is zippier. So we headed out to YET ANOTHER STEAM TRAIN. This time we are in Somerset. When we reach the site we find a banner for an “art train” the next day, so we waited to experience that. The train runs about 36 miles from Bishops Lydeard to Minehead on the sea. And also, simultaneously there is one running in the opposite direction. It makes stops at Crowcombe Heathfield, Strgumber, Williton, Watchet, Washford, Blue Anchor and Dunster. At each of these places there are artists and/or musicians. So you buy tickets that allow you to get off and on at will. The trains do not change their schedule for the event.

May 19

So we get up fairly early from our sleep behind the local butcher shop and after a quick breakfast of muesli and a banana we make our way to the station. Lots of folks are gathering, some of them musicians which will stay at this station. We get on the train and I overhear a conversation about how to take the train so that you don't have to stay an hour in each place which would eat up your day pretty quickly. (David is taking pictures...I don't know if I will ever see him again. Not only does he take photos but he talks to all the train guys, this time they are mostly paid but ticket men etc. are volunteers. There are men at each station working on the tracks, cleaning them and making sure they are heading in the right direction! He will talk to anyone remotely involved!) So back to the conversation across the isle. This guy has come up with a plan and printed it out to follow along the way. It involves taking a train two stops ahead and then back tracking on the train going the opposite direction to the one we missed....and this goes on all up, and down, the line. Well David shows up and tries to understand the schedule when showed by the originator. Forget it...says David. We are just going to follow you! So this is Bob, husband of Pauline who put this event together and is running around in her car checking on all the artists etc. Bob is accompanied by his sister-in-law Sue and her friend Beatrice. Fine and fun people who are more than happy to have us come along. So on and off the train in one direction or other and we see examples for sale of ceramics, glass, sculpture, Punch and Judy show, textiles, paper making, metal work, wood carving, driftwood art, paintings, drawings and prints...some of them very very good. The wood carver was really amazing. He had been to conferences and competitions all over the world and won some of them. He was working on an otter. “Do you like fish & chips?”, he said. Yes! So he gave me a paper cone filled with wood shavings and a little fish he had carved sitting on the top. A thrill for me! So that was Tad the carver. Then I met a lady painter, Annabel. “Your work looks a bit like the Canadian Group of Seven” I said. A big smile from her. She says,”I have all their books! They are my inspiration!” We talked about what mediums we use in our art. Turns out we are both using oil pastels so we had some discussion on technique. We will keep in touch. A card of our favorite image is on our camper wall. We had lunch with Bob, wife and crew in one of the small towns and shortly we separated as they were going to head back to the starting point. By now we knew the drill and could continue on our own! Each time we got back on the train we chatted with new people who sat across from us. The last folks were very helpful. The fellow gave David information on what bridge to stand on to get a great picture of the train. And he also gave us names of a few garages that might help with our refrigerator, which was not working. So we did not go far to find a sleeping place that night. We sought out the bridge which was at one of the stops so we would be ready the next morning. I really got into it, too...with my camera. We played the waiting game and heard the unforgettable steam whistle a comin'! Yikes, we only have seconds to get the picture of pictures! Then we see the steam! Wouldn't you know, the engine was at the head of the train where it should be, but it was backwards with the coal at the front. Okay, we will wait 45 minutes and get the train coming the other way. A lovely spot to be. An old stone bridge and a small village and the guys working on the tracks. Before we knew it the whistle sounded in the distance again and then the steam and the excitement of that special shot. Another backwards engine! Oh well, we had a bunch of fun on that little bridge. And we did get some good shots.

Wells. A large cathedral in this small town. We heard that we could attend a 45 minute Evensong with one of the best choirs in England, boys and girls, men and women. So this was our next goal. We stumbled into something very special. It was the Queen's Jubilee Service at this Cathedral. We were asked for our tickets! Well, they saved a few rows at the back for non ticket holders so we humbly took our seats. The procession of this High English Cathedral was beautiful...beautiful costuming of which I understood nothing. Who was the guy in the bright pink skull cap? A cardinal? I did know who the bishop was as he gave a wonderful sermon. Most of this “parade” were men in long robes but one woman, Lady somebody in a hat like the Queen's, read the scripture. The choir sang and sang throughout the hour. Like angels it sounded. Perfect harmonies with the children's voices blending so beautifully. Boy sopranos. Remarkable. We toured the church later taking photos as usual and waited until 5:00 pm to watch the ornate but humorous clock strike the time...out comes about four crusaders on horse chasing each other and flailing their swords. One fellow got hit many times!

So one would think that would be enough in a day. But we drove on to Glastonbury and had time to climb the tor. Glastonbury is a place of pilgrimages and climbing to the top to the old bell tower is one of them. Thirty years ago I did this. It was a moving thing to do it again. Then I was forty...this week I am seventy! I was quite new age then. It was a realm in the mists then. (The mists of Avalon are here!) Today, I am solidly spiritual and dabble with the Christian faith in my own way. My feet are on the ground. The mysterious mists are still here! It was as much a thrill.

May 21 HAPPY BIRTHDAY IRENE!

Ahhhh. Glastonbury Abbey. Only some of it still stands, mainly because of Henry Vlll who appointed himself head of all churches and then proceeded to steal everything of value. He needed the money to defend his borders. Christian beginnings began there long before that. It is also a place of King Arthur and Gwenevier(sp?) who were buried on these grounds and whose bodies were moved to the abbey and a tomb erected to honor them. There was a time when much of these lands were under water. It is below sea level. The tor stood above. Are these waters the place of legends of Arthur and his men and all the beautiful women? So, that is one aspect to think about. It is exciting. And then there is the other. It is thought that Jesus came here with his uncle, Mary's brother, Joseph of Aramenthea(sp?). Joseph brought olive oil and wine in amphora or cruets. They have been found many places. He also brought the chalice from the Last Supper with the blood of Christ in it and buried it somewhere. (Some say it is in the well close by where there are two outlets from which you can taste. One is reddish (iron?) and the other clear. One has a taste of blood to it. We did not try the waters.) Also Joseph is said to have put his staff into the ground and from that the Thorn Tree grew. It is not the same as the Hawthorns all over Britain, but looks very much like the thorns of Christ's crown and blooms twice each year. Once at Easter and once at Christmas. We were taken to two of these trees and told that these trees come from that first ancestor, as the gardeners keep them going and replace them when needed. Each Christmas a thorn twig is cut from one of those trees and the Queen finds it on her Christmas morning breakfast table. Legend? Truth? It is the mystery that keeps us interested, mesmerized and caught in that “thin place”. I am blessed to be a two time pilgrim.

The town shops are full of new-age items...crystals, jewelry, voodoo, mysterious paintings, healing herbs, clothing, tattooing, candles, talismen and fortunes. I am sure there are pagan rituals happening in old and beautiful sacred places close by. Music played, dances danced, chants sung. There is one place in the first building of the abbey, a floor dug under the Lady's chapel (whose floor is no longer there) where it is covered overhead and is a holy place. It is still a place of worship to many. Most of the space has the sky for a roof with sweeping arches still forming the outline of the ceiling. The last time I went there I sobbed. It was powerful again.

From here we needed some soft re-entry. We drove through the Cheddar Gorge, through soft rounded rocks piled high above. Softer than we are used to seeing in the Pacific NW. Not wild and free but gentle and welcoming. Lots of hikers. The English are the best hikers. They love their walks. Off they go with boots, pants tucked into wooly socks, packs on their backs , a jaunty hat, and of course the walking stick.

We found just the right kinda guy to look at our camper refrigerator. Gary. He gives it some good thought...and digs in. His thought is that some dirt has fallen into the works. He pulls it out “with brute force and ignorance”, fools with it, blows the system out and it works! At least that is my report! I am sure that David would tell you what was really wrong in more detail, but do you really need to know?! Gary lives in Weston-S-Mare on the coast. It is windy and cold, even in the sun. The Olympic Torch relay is happening, starting at the bottom of Cornwall at Lands-end and it is coming near here we know. We are trying to stay out of the traffic and crowd.

May 22

Let's go to Bath. This morning we drive to Bath. Maybe we will take a walking tour of the city. It is such a good way to get the history. But we find the city full. Kids out of school. Roads blocked...the Torch is still on it's way but it will be in Bath today. Okay. New plan. On to the Cotswold’s with a stop in Avebury on the way. At a cross-roads somewhere we stop at a graveyard and small perfect memorial chapel. The lines of the structure are so pleasing, with a spire placed a bit off to the side on an otherwise perfectly symmetrical building and it works beautifully. We go into the sweet interior and find a room with a book of Memorials, open to the page of the day. There was just one entry on that day...and it was perfectly calligraphed with pen and ink...very fine work. And delicately colored bits of art. As you would see in the days of monks and their beautiful illuminations. We meandered among the ancient headstones. I was struck at how we human beings care enough to place a loved one in a cozy beautiful place, keep it clean, mow the lawn and bring fresh flowers on occasions. I saw a dozen fresh yellow roses placed at a grave...on the date of the person's death, this day in 2009. Nearing Avebury we see the huge white chalk horse on the hill...only to find out that there are many in the area and one can buy a map to find them all.

Avebury is a big place. The roads run through it and quarter it. The standing stone circles are huge as are the stones themselves. We walk among the sheep and rabbits and stones and up to the berm that surrounds it. This must have been a gathering place of worship and celebration for many villages around it. David and I reflect upon the other lonely stones and circles we have come across in our travels in France. Quiet, out of the way, in pouring rain or foggy mists...no people...giving us the opportunity to ponder and feel the past. Tonight we are in Stow-on-the-Wold ready to walk it's streets in the morning. We love England!

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

> To the KleeWyck gang. I was just reading a book written over 100 years ago. The author describes a sunset. After the sun went down behind the sea horizon, an absolute green light flashed, “like a firework out of a rocket!” I have yet to see that green light. Have any of you? I know that some of you have looked.

> Town names...Pagans Hill, Shockerwick, Wookey Hole, Pruddy, Cheddar, Chew Stoke, Dumbleton, Wormington, Fish Hill, Guiting Power

> There are grey cows here. I guess there used to be many but now there are just one or two in a crowd. Also cows are different in manner here. They can be found snoozing in a pack or running in a pack. Cows running?

> In the parking lot in Glastonbury we met a woman who had a Westphalia Camper and we shared looks at each others vans. She and her dog are taking off this week for a year's travel in Europe. An RN who always wanted to travel freely. Brave lady. We will keep in touch with her and perhaps even meet her again.

> When I was in the Glastonbury chapel ruin alone, I glanced over at a bench and on it was a plaque that said...”In memory of Marlene”. For a few moments she was there with me.

May 25

Let's see, we were in Stow-on-the-Wold when last I wrote. A place to stop and walk and look in flowery yards and small paned windows with old plates of blue and white...and cream jugs. Are they placed there for us or them? It is the 23^rd and we decide to head for Hidcote, a garden that David has known about for years. It is one of the great English gardens... an American's interpretation of a dreamy English garden. He loved to make outside rooms. The plantings are relatable to us in the Pacific NW as much of them are the same. The airy fresh rooms are separated by yew trees clipped to form hedges or separated by stick fences and a few stone walls. The plants are not labeled. It is more informal than that. So one wanders from themed room to themed room (the red room, the water room etc.) which finally ends at a forest with walking paths or fields of cows or sheep and distance forests. We were not disappointed, so much so that we bought a membership in the National Trust which allows us to enter each NT site free (and park free). Gardens, gold mines, idyllic villages, standing stone neolithic sites, Roman ruins and castles and on and on. Well worth it for the time we are staying.

We spent that night in Chipping Campton. We awoke to a news announcement on the radio. Now, bring to mind a well spoken soft English woman's voice as she says, “The Olympic Torch was lost this morning for ten minutes in the fog and the rain along the back lanes.” We identified. Just as shops were opening we walked through town. David bought a book, Britain's Most Amazing Places, in the Red Cross secondhand store. We found a wonderful gallery and I bought some small exhibition books so that I could take all that art home with me. Then, in a little deli, we bought local cheddar cheese and some pickled herring which we ate for breakfast!

“Let's use our new National Trust membership again!” So we pick Snowshill Manor and Gardens. The home of C.P. Wade, who inherited a sugar plantation and did not have to work anymore. It's a good thing as he had all the time in the world to collect pieces of the past from England and many countries and also make and paint things to go with it such as a made up Wade Coat of Arms. His manor is so full of stuff, way too dark and full for him to live in. It was really a show place for his collection. He lived and worked in the smaller house behind. It all started when he was a little boy and discovered Granny's cupboard, which he was not allowed to touch, only stare at and dream. The cupboard was an elaborate piece of Chinese furniture, with doors open so one could see into all the cubby holes and find what granny had put there. Little expensive treasures. He dreamed and dreamed. What would he put there? And maybe he would change that little vase and put it in with the plate...that kind of thing. Well, his manor has the original granny's cupboard and many more of the same look and vintage, filled with his own small treasures. The rest of the house was filled with masks, Asian warrior costumes, paintings, small sculptures of animals and people, plates, glass objects, bedroom with linens, bed shirts etc. The bed is a rope bed. Okay, you know how the ropes would be woven to the bed frames to provide softness before the mattress gets put on. The docent said that the ropes would start to sag and would have to be tightened periodically. Hence came the saying...”Night, Night, Sleep tight “(ropes)...and there was also “Don't let the bed bugs bite.” She did not say anything about the bed bugs. The garden was lovely. Benches everywhere to sit upon and watch the butterflies and the busy bees at work...or to stop in time and enjoy the outdoor rooms he also had a liking for. Two other small villages we visited close by. One of them was especially memorable because it had no stores, only tall old residences all different but all made out of the same local yellow stone, and winding beautifully along the snake-like road. Off to the side; gardens, tiny lanes and foot paths. We took one of those paths to the little church. I was especially taken by some of the inscriptions on the church walls, one being such a beautiful tribute to a daughter who died at 16. Morton-on-the-Marsh was our overnight stop. We were there early enough to walk the main street (always it seems, called High Street). The main market is from Roman times. It is still used and sits in the center of town. We looked in shop windows and stopped for a beer in the garden behind a pub as the weather is still very warm in these parts. Not an ice cold glass of beer (which we would have liked) but warm beer as is the norm. We walked around to the back streets following our noses to the church steeple. The church doors were locked but the yard of gravestones was so very quiet and calming. I think it is a place used to escape the town. We encountered a young couple talking on a bench overlooking an English view. And others entered the gates perhaps as a short-cut to home, perhaps to read a book undisturbed.

So I have caught up to May 25^th. Another glorious sunny day and my 70^th birthday. It can't be, but it is. I am glad to be in a place unknown so I can slowly feel my way into this decade. David woke me very early with the birthday song. It seems the perfect day to have read this passage in Dinah Craik's book. “...not withstanding everything without that seems to imply our perishableness, we are conscious of something within which is absolutely imperishable.” David was a special dear to me all day. He was all I needed! We ate dinner at Toby Carvery. A Carvery is carved roast of course and a British favorite! Our choice of ham, beef, pork or turkey...and Yorkshire pudding filled with gravy! (Not nearly as good as my mother's.) And roasted or mashed potatoes, peas, mashed turnips, roasted onions, creamed cauliflower and broccoli. So we chose our favorites and “pigged out” which is really the first time in 4 months. Oh yeh...we had ice cream covered in carmel sauce. It was my birthday!

May 26

Today a visit to Prinknash Abbey (pronounced Prinnish. You really have to be British to know how to say some of these names. It is not a matter of phonetics!). We slept in the parking lot so used the time before it opened in the morning to clean out our van and get rid of stuff and repack. It was a very successful endeavor and as a result left books with a monk for resale in their used book department. There are still about 8 monks in the monastery, most very old. The grounds are like a storybook illustration. Huge healthy deciduous trees of different species. After a latte in the cafe, we asked to see a collection of models so we were taken downstairs to fend for ourselves and promised to turn our the lights and lock the door when we left. These were model kits put together by one man with a passion for all big and old shrines; churches, abbeys, cathedrals, the White House, manors and castles, medieval villages etc, all painstakingly put together. It was really quite impressive. Basement darkened and locked we headed up the road to the Monastery Chapel to hear the noontime chants of the monks and try to join in where indicated. Peacocks were chanting their own special cry in the distance where there was a bird sanctuary.

Our stove and refrigerator have stopped working again so we have contacted our mechanic friend Gary and while we are waiting to hear from him we are biding our time in nearby places. We stop in Painswick next. The churchyard is sort of like a theme park. Many trees line the walks and all have been buzzed and shaped and lean this way and that, some have grown together and form a tunnel. Quite a sight. Lots of angels for me to photograph in the church, and patterns on the walls and floor. I seem to have a fascination with angels. I wonder what I will do with them when the trip is over? Or what they will do with me? And lastly we go to the town of Cirencester (siren sester) another former Roman stronghold and it shows. Of course, by now you know our patterns, we make our way to the very large parish church. Inside it is so welcoming and warm...different from most large stone churches. There are fresh flowers everywhere and we are told that the floor was taken up and now has heat flowing under the stone tiles allowing the church to stay at a comfortable temperature in all seasons. We wander with our cameras as there is lots of art to photograph. And there is a concert scheduled in a bit over an hour. A really good concert but it is sold out! The men who are preparing the space say...never mind we will get you in. And they did! It was fabulous. Bach's B Minor Mass. Some of it was extra beautiful to my ears. I am not a huge fan of the harpsichord...or in general, the Baroque style, but these were talented performers. The English Singers, many from the Cambridge Singers at one time...and a small symphonic orchestra. The soloists were really top-notch. Two sopranos, one bass, one tenor and one male alto who sang in a falsetto range. Well, we had done it again...heard great music in a great church. Feeling blessed we walked to the car in appreciation of just what is happening to us along the way on this adventure. We are welcomed and well guided by all people. The earth is a good place. Don't forget that.

May 27

Early to rise and drive back to Weston to visit Gary the mechanic who looks at our problem (again the refrigerator has stopped working and also the stove) and offers some new suggestions. Maybe we have put too much propane in our tank when we last filled it. 80% is the limit to allow enough air in the tank to make the pressure happen correctly.

(That is a female type explanation, at least this female!) Gary got it going again but really does not know the answer (American bits and parts). So we are parked down near the beach. We let the stove run for awhile, trying to use up some of that fuel to get the pressure to normal. At this point as I type, David is sleeping upstairs in the breezy pop top. It might be time for lunch.

THOUGHTS and OBSERVATIONS:

>We have lots of lunchtime picnics but in our van with the windows and doors wide...table up and extra chair across from the “couch”. It is a great tradition. Slice up some good bread...salami, sardines, pate and a variety of local cheeses...cucumber, tomatoes, onions, mustard and mayonnaise. Make your own. Maybe a bit of wine which we usually have many bottles of.

> Two bits of info from the last church caretaker, John. (Are they all called John?) 1) When folks in the church died they wanted to be placed in the church floor as close to one of the vertical pillars as possible...a good start to shooting off to heaven I guess. Hence the expression “Pillars of the Community”. 2) In the beginning, there were no benches for the public to sit on, standing room only. But John showed David that there was a stoop around the walls where the infirm could sit. Hence, because you were in such tough shape you were “Up against the wall” with no other place to go.

> How is it that the English pronounce the “h” in herbs and we do not?

> I am not happy with my name here. It means toilet.

> I miss the bird sounds that I heard when growing up. The robin, the Swainsons Thrush.

> This is horse country...so many people on horseback.

> White flowers line the road, daisies, Queen Ann’s lace, white hawthorn in profusion, apple blossoms and another white flower shaped like alium. Some fields are full of buttercups.

> The wind moves the grass as if it were a wave tipped in white, from one end of a field to the other in a sweep, not as though each blade is bent one at a time.

> I see that British faces change as we move to new areas. Maybe the majority of occupants tend to stay where they are through their lives and pass the local “look” along?

> We have noticed several Market-Jew roads and have heard several explanations. While reading my book written over 100 years ago, another answer was given which I will stick with. The Jews would buy tin and other metals from the mines and take it to sell in the town

of Mara-Zion. The locals corrupted the town name and came up with, Market-Jew road.

May 31

Well, the refrigerator and stove are working again so it must have been the pressure in the propane tank. Lesson learned. But now the inside door latch, my side, has stopped working and I can't get out! So to another VW dealer/repair on Monday. They will order a part...but in the meantime they have come up with a list of other things that should be attended to....some we said yes to , some no. Yes to the wobbly right front wheel and the left front which is starting the same action. The pound to the dollar today is about 1 to 1.60. Yikes, not a good time to be paying for car repair! So today, Thursday, we are relaxing in a B&B with free wifi and comfy beds...and an Indian Restaurant down the street which we will try out for dinner. We can pick up our van tomorrow sometime. In the days we have had here in Weston with our van and waiting for car parts to arrive, we have come to really enjoy the town. It's beach front is wonderful. It is really a big park for everyone living nearby. A GRAND PIER with rides and food etc...and at the moment artists are working on the annual sand sculpture competition (they are quite amazing). Fish and chips and ice cream cones are the popular items. Everybody, every age are enjoying walking, riding bicycles or motorized wheel chairs. The second-most high-low tides here in the world (I think Canada's Bay of Fundy is the top). The sand beach stretches for miles, maybe four? It is divided up into sections so that everybody is happy. The regular folks get most but the dogs get some and do they love it! There is a section for kites. One night we went to that end of the beach and watched kids on para foil-propelled sand carts/boards. Tricks of jumping and turning performed. Some learners. Another day we walked the long promenade from end to end. Had a pub beer overlooking the beach. Picnics in the parking lot on the promenade. Yesterday we took a long walk on a peninsula from end to end. Long steep steps to the top, then grassy hilly fields with paths. Hawthorns in bloom. Wildflowers and butterflies. Sun and breezes. Steep Island and Flat Island to the west in Bristol Bay. Evidence of war bunkers and barracks. At the point, a fort, first built to keep Napoleon out...then rebuilt for WWII. Crawled around the site as there were good signs marking the different buildings and what they were used for. The loop back was on the old military road. Rabbits, the cutest and tiniest little guys, popped up here and there to cheer our way. The place...Brean Down. And after that a drive to another National Trust site at Sand Point. We did not have time to walk its paths to a wild bay and a priory but we did walk out to the beach. Another halcyon day.

Tomorrow we will head to Gloucester and then slowly make our way to the Lake District with lots of delicious things planned to see along the way. And always, the surprises. See you next blog!