MORE WANDERINGS

The past two days have involved a lot of walking and a lot of train travel. On Wednesday I decided to revisit our old haunt in the Cotswolds. It's no great distance out of London so I took my time getting to Paddington only to find I had a ninety minute wait for the train I needed. I bought the Guardian and settled down over coffee, and the time passsed quickly enough. The journey out takes about an hour and twenty minutes taking me through miles of green fields patchworked with the gold of rapeseed crops in full bloom. Also depressing towns like Slough and Reading. Slough you might remember is the awful place which was the setting for "The Office" TV series. The one time poet laureate, John Betjemin wrote about Slough...

"Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough.

It isn't fit for humans now."

If you want to get really depressed, I recommend you Google it some time.

Anyway my train eventually tipped me out at Charlbury, about a ten minute bus ride to Ascott Under Wychwood. Except there was no bus was there. And not likely to be one for some time!

So I called the local taxi who did the job for ten quid and there I was back in what I fondly remembered as "our village", where the lilacs were in bloom and the jackdaws soared over the farmhouse across from our place. Lovely! I'll just stroll into the Swan for a couple of pints with old friends. Not!

The pub was closed until 5.30pm.I'd forgotten about pub hours here. So I went across to Crown Farm where our house was and knocked on the door of our old neighbour, Robin. No answer! He wasn't home.

Undaunted I strolled around to the village green and the village shop past the village school. The whole place seemed utterly deserted. I even spent some time sitting on the old stone bridge photographing the River Evenlode. There were some sheep there but they didn't have much to say either. Too busy looking after their spring lambs I expect!

With the afternoon winding down I tried Robin's place once more. This time he was home and stunned to find me on his doorstop. Minutes later I was drinking coffee with Robin and his auntie Dorothy who'd come to stray, and we were talking old times and catching up on all the gossip. Auntie Dorothy said "Why don't you two go and have a drink?" but I said the pub was closed until 5.30 and I had to get the taxi for the station at 10 to 6. Robin said the Swan might be closed but we could go to The Lamb in the next village.

Ten minutes later we were ensconced in the snug of this lovely old low ceilinged pub with pints in hand. I did want to spend a few minutes in our old pub, the Swan, so come 5.30 Robin dropped me off there, and we said goodbye. Just as I was coming around the back of the Swan, Rick the pub owner was coming towards me to open up. He was utterly gobsmacked to see me and warmly invited me into the bar to buy me a beer. Then I bought him one, so that was four pints for the afternoon. The outlook was improving.

All too soon the time caught up and at 10 to 6 I checked through the window to see if my cab was there. He was, so I said goodbye and left. By the time I reached the car park there was no sign of that cab.He'd taken off. I had no chance of catching the train I was aiming for, so there was nothing else for it but to return to the bar of the Swan . Rick was catering for a birthday party that evening, so I just sat in a corner chatting to the locals and enjoying a few more pints of ale.

Then Robin arrived again and introduced me to his mates and the night went on from there, with much laughter and friendly chat. I'm not sure what time it was when I finally phoned another cab and headed back to Charlbury station. I promised that when Barbara arrives in London, we would try to come down for lunch if we possibly can.

I got home to Fritha's place at 11.45 that night, and crashed. After the initial slow start, the day had been just great.

Thursday morning, with something of a hangover from all those pints, I arose at 7.30. I'd booked to take the train to Chester which is about 200 miles or so from London,on the River Dee in Cheshire on the Welsh border. It is a very old city, having first been a major Roman fort which housed some thousands of Roman soldiers a long time ago.

There are the remains of an amphitheatre which I wanted to see, as well as a very old cathedral which began life as an abbey.

My train journey took me from Euston Station to Crewe. Just about every major rail line in Britain passes through Crewe, and indeed if they didn't, I imagine Crewe wouldn't exist. By the time I got to Crewe to change trains it was about 1 o clock and I had three minutes to find the right platform. I did, but only just, and pushed onto a packed carriage bound for Chester. I had to stand in the entrance to the carriage, cheek by jowel with every regional accent coming at me from all directions. Obviously there was something happening in Chester today. Then I noticed that nearly every woman in the carriage was wearing a fascinator and very high heels. It was a race day at Chester, which boasts one of the oldest and smallest race courses in the UK.

Twenty minutes later I was on Chester station while a thousand blokes in suits with a thousand slutty looking women showing off as much flesh as legally allowed, headed across the road to the nearest pub. I thought I was at Oaks Day at Flemington.

Also it was wet and cold so I decided on one of those hop on hop off bus rides around the city. It cost a fiver but at least it was warm and dry. I was glad I did because I could check out what the city had to offer before going back to look more closely. I'm glad I did because there wasn't that much to see. The streets were pretty enough, with all the trees in blossom and many of the houses and shops dating back to the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Every second building boasted that black and white style of plasterwork identified with the Tudors.Actually the colours black and white came into vogue in Victorian times. Before that the walls were plain and the beams were just timber coloured. Also that famed Roman amphitheatre turned out to be a small length of ancient wall and an outline of foundations in the ground. I did however, get out at the Cathedral.

This proved to be a very interesting building. There was originally a Druid temple here, and then when the Romans arrived it became a temple dedicated to Apollo. Then came William the Conqueror. He had a nephew, Hugh Lupus (Wolf Man) and the Norman Earl of Chester. He set up a monstery part of which still stands. After Henry the eighth closed the monasteries, the place metamorphosed into a cathedral and was saved from destruction. It's built in a very Romanesque style with arches meeting in a point, and great decorated ceiling bosses.
There is a shrine here to St Werbugh, a seventh century English saint who is the patron of the city of Chester.

So I spent a pleasant hour or so snapping pictures of cloisters, and ceiling bosses and ancient tomb slabs etc. There was a choir of girls from the local Queen's School practicing which provided a charming musical background to my exploring. I found a cafe which was actually in the original great refectory of the old abbey. There's something quite bizarre about sitting in a room eating cottage pie and veg and sipping a latte in the same place where medieval monks once chanted their prayers and enjoyed a haunch of venison.

By the time I left the cathedral it was around three o clock and I decided, having seen what I wanted to see, that it would be a good idea to get an early train before the race crowd, probably thoroughly tanked up by now, arrived back at the station. I think I slept through most of the trip back to London. Back at the flat we watched some of the election night coverage. Not very inspiring!

I cannot understand why they would hold an election on a working day, and why in a multi party

system they have first past the post voting. And then you have people who actually want to vote, being locked out of the voting station at ten pm after queuing for hours. It's mad!

I'm not planning much for today other than this blog. You'll find Barbara has done a couple of blog entries. They are only appearing now because she didn't hit the "publish" button.

She will be on a boat cruising around the Galapagos this weekend.