April 27 to May 4th
The days following our Norwegian travels have been a combination of unwinding,laundering, visits to the gym and planning more travel.
Once we were a bit more relaxed, aided by a few visits to our local “The Swan”, we set out to do a bit of stately home visiting.
April 28th
Our first excursion was to Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire. This 3000 acre property belongs to the Dukes of Bedford and was one of the first to go public way back in the fifties. Outside, its biggest feature is a deer park with over 10 species of deer. But the house itself is something else. First built as a Cistercian monastery in 1145, the place was given by Edward the sixth, to Sir John Russell in 1547 and the Russells, later to become Earls and Dukes of Bedford added to the building over the centuries. The walls are covered in great paintings and tapestries of the lords and ladies of this house. The rooms are filled with elegant and very old furniture, dining rooms wih tables laid with silver and gold cutlery and candelabra, and Meissen or Sevre crockery.
The rich and powerful had a great penchant for collecting things. China, silver, Chinese andJapanese objets d’art, and
all sorts of curios and the rooms and corridors are filled with display cases of the stuff.
Outside, the house is surrounded with beautiful gardens, sweeping green lawns and ancient oaks and elms and beeches. And by a lake, a bronze statue of Mrs Moss. She was not a family member, but one of the family’s champion racehorses.
April 29th
Our appetites whetted by Woburn, we set out on the next day to visit Blenheim Palace in Woodstock, near Oxford.
This magnificent baroque palace is the seat of the dukes of Marlborough, the first of whom was John Spencer.
He beat the French in a battle at Blindheim in 1704, thus ending the “Wars of Spanish Succession As a reward, Queen Anne made hi
m a Duke and financed the building of this great house.
For over an hour we walked through seemingly endless stately rooms with hand painted ceilings and once more, walls hung with huge family portraits and priceless tapestries. From one salon we looked out from the windows on to rolling green lawns and formal gardens, with in the distance, the Column of Victory, a feature which rivals Nelson’s Column at Trafalgar Square.
We passed through the official state apartments where visiting royalty stayed o
ver the past three hundred years.
And of course there was much reference to a more modern member of the Spencer family, Winston Spencer Churchill. He was brought up here, and was godfather to the present duke.
The gardens at Blenheim are worthy of a separate visit. They are the work of the famous landscaper, Capability Brown. Again they feature acres of sweeping and beautifully manicured lawns, and close to the house, formal gardens of box hedges in designs reminiscent of Versailles. In fact much of the palace was inspired by Versail
les. There is a magnificent lake with willows and water birds, and a splendid stone bridge.
We could have spent much more time at Blenheim, the place is so much a part of several hundred years of British history, the Marlboroughs having played so many major roles in the affairs of the country.
May 1st
On Friday we took the train down to London, where we had arranged to meet up with Fritha and Anthony. We had
tickets to see a performance of Shakespeare’s King Lear. We had a few hours to spare so we visited the Tower of London and enjoyed an informative tour conducted by one of the Beefeaters. There was the Bloody Tower, the White Tower, Traitors’Gate, St Thomas More’s rooms and the rooms where they held Rudolf Hess when he flew in from Nazi Germany. At every point our guide had a story to tell of b
eheadings and torture, royal plots and royal marriages and much more. We inspected the Crown Jewels of course, and to wrap up the visit we took part in a bit of street theatre, in which we joined a baying mob screaming for head of Judge Jeffries of “bloody assizes “fame.
By then it was time to meet Fritha and Anthony. We had a quick dinner at a restaurant by the Thames and then walked to the Globe Theatre. This is theatre in the round and is a replica of the very first Globe Theatre where Shakespeare’s works were originally performed.
The night was quite cold and our seats were high in the gallery, looking down on the open air stage, so we were well rugged up. Our gallery was sheltered by a thatched roof all the way around, which was just as well, as it rained for much of the evening. All this of course, just added to the atmosphere. The seats were just basic benches although you could hire cushions if you didn’t want to be too authentic. We hired some for the second act.
Apart from that, “how did we like the show?”
It was unforgettable. The atmosphere was something so different from a plush and properly heated theatre with comfortable chairs. The cast was excellent, although we couldn’t help feeling sorry for them, having to do the play in drizzling rain. A couple of times an actor would slip but no-one actually fell over. One actor playing a demented beggar kept dragging his cloak across the wet stage saying “Poor Tom is cold “and then wrapping his sopping wet cloak around his s
houlders. What a trouper!
All the music was authentic too. They played shawms and lutes and oudhs and other things I didn’t recognise. All of this contributed to an unforgettable night.
Barbara and I took the train home on Friday and did a bit of shopping and catching up with exercise at the gym.
May 3rd
Back to London again to stay with Fritha in Little Venice. The occasion was the annual Canal Festival, when narrow canal boats from all up and down the canals around London and further afield, gather to show off their boats and generally have a good time. There must have been a couple hundred colourfully decorated boats moored along the canal just a few yards from Fritha’s place. We joined the crowds to check out the boats, buy rubbish from the various stalls, eat roas
t pork rolls and drink pints of beer (one brew called Bishop’s Finger...don’t ask!)
Perhaps the highlight of the day was our first experience of Morris dancing. This is apparently a traditional ritual in which men, and more recently women, dress up in smocks and baggy trousers and silly decorated hats, with bells attached to their knees and elbows. They then dance up and down, waving short sticks with which
they shake at each other in time to music. Every now and again they’ll hit each others sticks together. That’s Morris dancing, and my first reaction was to say to the dancers...”You complete idiots!” But then on reflection, England would not be England without these eccentricities.
We had quite a late night, not getting to bed until nearly 2am.
May 4th
We resurfaced the next morning a bit the worse for wear, but keen to see a bit more of London. After breakfast we headed for Waterloo station, where we boarde
d a tourist ferry for a trip down the Thames to Greenwich. We set out under the shadow of the London Eye, the great ferris wheel where people can spend thirty minutes taking the view of the whole city. Given our slightly delicate state,we preferred to do it from water level. It was a fine, if a little hazy spring day, as we glided past the tower again, St Paul’s, the Town Hall, and many more of the city’s landmarks. Then the river widened out as we passed the old warehouse district of Canary Wharf, the Isle of Dogs and Bermondsey. All these places are now lined with very expensive apartment blocks. We disembarked at Greenwich and spent the next couple of hours enjoying its winding old lanes and streets, past 
the Royal Naval College, the colourful Greenwich market, St Alfrege’s church....who?
St Alfrege was an Archbishop of Canterbury who was kidnapped for ransom by marauding Danes in the 11th century. But no-one paid up so they killed him on this spot in Greenwich.
Also buried at St Alfrege’s is the chorister Thomas Tallis and General Wolfe, the hero of Quebec.
But best of all was a long climb up the hill the Royal Observatory. The observatory was set up by Charles 2nd to study the means of fixing longitude, a vital element for navigation.
Here you can see the official imperial foot, the imperial yard and most importantly, The Prime Meridian, i.e. 0 degrees longitude. You can stand with one foot in the western hemispher
e and the other in the eastern hemisphere.
Inside in glass cases are four clocks. Back in the 17th century, these were created by a Lincolnshire carpenter named John Harrison. Over many decades he solved the 'longitude problem' thus preventing maritime disasters that had previously resulted from faulty navigation, by producing a timepiece that would remain accurate at sea. The Sea Clock would keep the time at the home port for comparison with local time as determined by the sun, thus allowing the calculation of longitude. The first three of these clocks were made of wood and needed no oil. They are still running today. The final clock (H3) was reduced to the size of a big pocket watch and did the job as well.
If you get hold of the book which I think is called “Longitude” by Dava Sobell and it tells a fascinating story.
We rejoined our ferry and while waiting in the boarding queue a local man carrying his shopping home, stopped nearby and proceeded to make very loud farting noises with his mouth at everyone there. He then trotted off. I’m not sure what point he was trying to make, but he certainly got our attention.
Home by train to our cottage in the Cotswolds.
The days following our Norwegian travels have been a combination of unwinding,laundering, visits to the gym and planning more travel.
Once we were a bit more relaxed, aided by a few visits to our local “The Swan”, we set out to do a bit of stately home visiting.
April 28th
Our first excursion was to Woburn Abbey in Bedfordshire. This 3000 acre property belongs to the Dukes of Bedford and was one of the first to go public way back in the fifties. Outside, its biggest feature is a deer park with over 10 species of deer. But the house itself is something else. First built as a Cistercian monastery in 1145, the place was given by Edward the sixth, to Sir John Russell in 1547 and the Russells, later to become Earls and Dukes of Bedford added to the building over the centuries. The walls are covered in great paintings and tapestries of the lords and ladies of this house. The rooms are filled with elegant and very old furniture, dining rooms wih tables laid with silver and gold cutlery and candelabra, and Meissen or Sevre crockery.
The rich and powerful had a great penchant for collecting things. China, silver, Chinese andJapanese objets d’art, and
all sorts of curios and the rooms and corridors are filled with display cases of the stuff.Outside, the house is surrounded with beautiful gardens, sweeping green lawns and ancient oaks and elms and beeches. And by a lake, a bronze statue of Mrs Moss. She was not a family member, but one of the family’s champion racehorses.
April 29th
Our appetites whetted by Woburn, we set out on the next day to visit Blenheim Palace in Woodstock, near Oxford.
This magnificent baroque palace is the seat of the dukes of Marlborough, the first of whom was John Spencer.
He beat the French in a battle at Blindheim in 1704, thus ending the “Wars of Spanish Succession As a reward, Queen Anne made hi
m a Duke and financed the building of this great house.For over an hour we walked through seemingly endless stately rooms with hand painted ceilings and once more, walls hung with huge family portraits and priceless tapestries. From one salon we looked out from the windows on to rolling green lawns and formal gardens, with in the distance, the Column of Victory, a feature which rivals Nelson’s Column at Trafalgar Square.
We passed through the official state apartments where visiting royalty stayed o
ver the past three hundred years.And of course there was much reference to a more modern member of the Spencer family, Winston Spencer Churchill. He was brought up here, and was godfather to the present duke.
The gardens at Blenheim are worthy of a separate visit. They are the work of the famous landscaper, Capability Brown. Again they feature acres of sweeping and beautifully manicured lawns, and close to the house, formal gardens of box hedges in designs reminiscent of Versailles. In fact much of the palace was inspired by Versail
les. There is a magnificent lake with willows and water birds, and a splendid stone bridge.We could have spent much more time at Blenheim, the place is so much a part of several hundred years of British history, the Marlboroughs having played so many major roles in the affairs of the country.
May 1st
On Friday we took the train down to London, where we had arranged to meet up with Fritha and Anthony. We had
tickets to see a performance of Shakespeare’s King Lear. We had a few hours to spare so we visited the Tower of London and enjoyed an informative tour conducted by one of the Beefeaters. There was the Bloody Tower, the White Tower, Traitors’Gate, St Thomas More’s rooms and the rooms where they held Rudolf Hess when he flew in from Nazi Germany. At every point our guide had a story to tell of b
eheadings and torture, royal plots and royal marriages and much more. We inspected the Crown Jewels of course, and to wrap up the visit we took part in a bit of street theatre, in which we joined a baying mob screaming for head of Judge Jeffries of “bloody assizes “fame.By then it was time to meet Fritha and Anthony. We had a quick dinner at a restaurant by the Thames and then walked to the Globe Theatre. This is theatre in the round and is a replica of the very first Globe Theatre where Shakespeare’s works were originally performed.
The night was quite cold and our seats were high in the gallery, looking down on the open air stage, so we were well rugged up. Our gallery was sheltered by a thatched roof all the way around, which was just as well, as it rained for much of the evening. All this of course, just added to the atmosphere. The seats were just basic benches although you could hire cushions if you didn’t want to be too authentic. We hired some for the second act.
Apart from that, “how did we like the show?”
It was unforgettable. The atmosphere was something so different from a plush and properly heated theatre with comfortable chairs. The cast was excellent, although we couldn’t help feeling sorry for them, having to do the play in drizzling rain. A couple of times an actor would slip but no-one actually fell over. One actor playing a demented beggar kept dragging his cloak across the wet stage saying “Poor Tom is cold “and then wrapping his sopping wet cloak around his s
houlders. What a trouper!All the music was authentic too. They played shawms and lutes and oudhs and other things I didn’t recognise. All of this contributed to an unforgettable night.
Barbara and I took the train home on Friday and did a bit of shopping and catching up with exercise at the gym.
May 3rd
Back to London again to stay with Fritha in Little Venice. The occasion was the annual Canal Festival, when narrow canal boats from all up and down the canals around London and further afield, gather to show off their boats and generally have a good time. There must have been a couple hundred colourfully decorated boats moored along the canal just a few yards from Fritha’s place. We joined the crowds to check out the boats, buy rubbish from the various stalls, eat roas
t pork rolls and drink pints of beer (one brew called Bishop’s Finger...don’t ask!)Perhaps the highlight of the day was our first experience of Morris dancing. This is apparently a traditional ritual in which men, and more recently women, dress up in smocks and baggy trousers and silly decorated hats, with bells attached to their knees and elbows. They then dance up and down, waving short sticks with which
they shake at each other in time to music. Every now and again they’ll hit each others sticks together. That’s Morris dancing, and my first reaction was to say to the dancers...”You complete idiots!” But then on reflection, England would not be England without these eccentricities.We had quite a late night, not getting to bed until nearly 2am.
May 4th
We resurfaced the next morning a bit the worse for wear, but keen to see a bit more of London. After breakfast we headed for Waterloo station, where we boarde
d a tourist ferry for a trip down the Thames to Greenwich. We set out under the shadow of the London Eye, the great ferris wheel where people can spend thirty minutes taking the view of the whole city. Given our slightly delicate state,we preferred to do it from water level. It was a fine, if a little hazy spring day, as we glided past the tower again, St Paul’s, the Town Hall, and many more of the city’s landmarks. Then the river widened out as we passed the old warehouse district of Canary Wharf, the Isle of Dogs and Bermondsey. All these places are now lined with very expensive apartment blocks. We disembarked at Greenwich and spent the next couple of hours enjoying its winding old lanes and streets, past 
the Royal Naval College, the colourful Greenwich market, St Alfrege’s church....who?St Alfrege was an Archbishop of Canterbury who was kidnapped for ransom by marauding Danes in the 11th century. But no-one paid up so they killed him on this spot in Greenwich.
Also buried at St Alfrege’s is the chorister Thomas Tallis and General Wolfe, the hero of Quebec.
But best of all was a long climb up the hill the Royal Observatory. The observatory was set up by Charles 2nd to study the means of fixing longitude, a vital element for navigation.
Here you can see the official imperial foot, the imperial yard and most importantly, The Prime Meridian, i.e. 0 degrees longitude. You can stand with one foot in the western hemispher
e and the other in the eastern hemisphere.Inside in glass cases are four clocks. Back in the 17th century, these were created by a Lincolnshire carpenter named John Harrison. Over many decades he solved the 'longitude problem' thus preventing maritime disasters that had previously resulted from faulty navigation, by producing a timepiece that would remain accurate at sea. The Sea Clock would keep the time at the home port for comparison with local time as determined by the sun, thus allowing the calculation of longitude. The first three of these clocks were made of wood and needed no oil. They are still running today. The final clock (H3) was reduced to the size of a big pocket watch and did the job as well.
If you get hold of the book which I think is called “Longitude” by Dava Sobell and it tells a fascinating story.
We rejoined our ferry and while waiting in the boarding queue a local man carrying his shopping home, stopped nearby and proceeded to make very loud farting noises with his mouth at everyone there. He then trotted off. I’m not sure what point he was trying to make, but he certainly got our attention.
Home by train to our cottage in the Cotswolds.
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