Glastonbury

Really just had the perfect last day in England. Lovely weather and we were in Glastonbury – home to so many English stories, myths and legends. We spent the night in this 600 year old Inn called the George and Pilgrims right on the main market square. It seems there were ghosts at work during the night as the fire alarm inexplicably went off three different times – each time just sending one loud bleat into the night. Once that stopped, I still didn’t have a very good sleep as I had a most disturbing nightmare about my body being levitated and pinned to the ceiling. Hmm.

Regardless of the night, the morning soon cleared and after our traditional English breakfast we set off to explore the legendary town. First stop, the old Abbey. Once one of the largest Abbeys in all of Europe and a regular stop for a holy pilgrim, Henry VIII worked his magic on this place too and had it obliterated during the “Dissolution” of the RC church holdings in England. The temptation of all that gold was just too much for him). One of the last and greatest monastic centres to be wiped out, Henry had its poor elderly abbot hung, drawn and quartered before demolishing the beautiful building itself. What the soldiers left behind, the local farmers eventually got around to taking apart to build their stone fences. What remains is still startlingly beautiful.

Within the Abbey there is still a spot marked as the burial site of King Arthur and Guinevere, and this is the legend I have known and followed through most of my reading life. Supposedly, in about 1,100 a monk was given a vision that told him Arthur was buried beneath the old crypt in the abbey – a church has existed on this spot since about 68 AD (and that’s another story). The monks dug up the crypt and found an ancient hollow oak inside which were the skeletal remains of a man and a woman and a Latin cross marked Arthur and Guinevere. The monks reburied the remains inside the abbey and (so the story goes) the tomb was there until the 1700s.

Also on this site is one of the Holy Thorn Trees grown from the cuttings of an ancient thorn tree that grew on nearby Wearyall Hill. This story goes that Joseph of Arimathea landed in Roman Britain in 68 AD with a tiny group of followers from Jerusalem. He drove his staff into the ground and a thorn tree grew and bloomed. (The tree has been identified as belonging to a genus found in the Holy Land). It blooms every year on Christmas Day (and that’s how England knew they were celebrating Christmas on the right day; calendars not being all that reliable in those days). Each year a branch from the throne tree is sent to the Queen to put on her Christmas breakfast table. It may not always be in bloom as the tree prefers the Julian calendar and is more likely to bloom on Jan. 6 than Dec. 25. Joseph established a small church from which, eventually, the Abbey grew.

As you know, Joseph brought two cups with him from the Holy Land. One in which he collected the blood and sweat of Jesus after the crucifixion and one which Christ used at the last supper. Joseph either hid one of the cups in a well nearby, or washed the cup in said well. Today the Chalice Well still flows and turns the rock beneath it red, symbolizing the water and blood of Christ’s crucifixion. We visited the gardens within which the well is still flowing, and whatever it might be, it certainly is holy ground. I have rarely experienced such a peaceful, serene, aromatic, beautiful place. One can drink from the well and take away a bottle of water – no shortage here. There are hidden alcoves for meditation, prayer and just plain silence. Wonderful, uplifting, soul-healing experience.

We also climbed Glastonbury Tor – also the site of many legends that have prevailed since pagan days. It is also said Merlin’s Cave is beneath the tor. It is a strange place to be sure, and, if nothing else, offers one of the most spectacular view points in all of England. For 360 degrees you get a pure view of pastoral England at its prettiest. And though the Tor has been a site of sorrow and murder, it has also been a site of celebration and victory. Legends also have it that Arthur still leads his nights from Glastonbury Tor to Cadbury Cathedral each Christmas Eve, and the music of their procession is heard by the local farmers. Many reports of ghosts in the mists persist. Some call them fairies, some another universe in which Arthur and his knights still ride. Whatever – it is a stirringly beautiful place.

Last stop was Stourhead Gardens, a beautiful 18th century classically landscaped English Estate. But ‘nuff said. All was gorgeous and our last day in England was perfect. I now sit in Gatwick airport waiting for departure in about an hour.

Brilliant.

Imagine...Liverpool

This vacation is racing to a close but we carry on! We are trying to cram every last bit of Britain into our experience, and it isn't getting the least bit tiring. On Wednesday we hit Liverpool after a very smooth crossing of the Irish Sea from Dublin. Not expecting too much of Liverpool, I have to say it has been one of the pleasantest days we've spent. Dave had found this great location foor the night at the Albert Docks - but far from spending the night in a shady dockyard we were in the prettiest location... a dock to be sure, but one that had been restored and rebuilt into a beautiful shopping and accommodation area. And the Beattles! Ya, ya, ya.

It is possible that this is the happiest and most satisfied I've seen Dave, having a beer in the Cavern Club while watching a John Lennon impersonator on stage. Nostalgia... I think so. But Liverpool isn't just the Beatles. It's one of the most interesting cities architecturally. In addition to fixing up the most run-down parts of the old dockyards they are building some amazingly designed structures amongst the incredibly ornate Victorian and Gothic buildings from a couple of centuries ago... and it seems to work quite satisfactorly. Construction is going on everywhere. The city is dedicated to music and the Beatles legend lives on and on! What a good day. Now back into England and through the Cotswold Mountains and the Cheddar Gorge. It's made of cheese!

And for our last few days we are off to Galstonbury - legendary burial place of Arthur and Guinevere. Home to Druids, witches, fairies Christians and New Agers. Whatever else, this place definitely sends a deep spiritual call to people of all faiths. Oh, this is going to be interesting. We are staying in a 600 year old hotel called the George and Pilgrims.

The old Glastonberry Abbey used to be a place of pilgrimage for Christians from all over Europe and to accommodate the moneyed pilgrams this inn was built and connected by a tunnel that ran deep underground to the inner wall of the Abbey. Henry VIII demolished the Abbey, but not the Inn. Never sack a pub when there's a perfectly good church nearby!

Kissed the Blarney Stone

Have had another couple of wonderful days in Ireland, tho' the weather has been a bit dodgy. We made it to Blarney Castle in a light drizzle (and I did kiss the stone). If you haven't seen pictures of this, it's quite an operation. You climb up the stairs in the old Blarney Castle (and on the day we were there, there was quite a long line up). At the top of the castle you have to lie down on your back, bend over backwards holding on to a metal pole on either side of your head and lean backwards until you can push your head forward to kiss the stone! For this amount of effort one should be rewarded with the gift of gab (at least).

Then the rain came. Stayed at Blarney for a while and walked the grounds - it is an enormous estate - but just got wetter and wetter. Gave up and headed for Cork, but the rain continued and it wasn't so much fun walking around. Finally just went to our bed and breakfast, a lovely place called Woodlands. Very pretty, comfy and friendly. And Kinsale was such a pretty little down with winding narrow streets, many shops where arts and crafts were sold and a lot of restaurants. Spent a quiet evening in a restaurant and back at our B&B.

Next morning we poked around Kinsale a little more and then headed northwest. Intended to stop and see Bunratty Castle, but decided we just didn't need another castle. Made for the Cliffs of Moher instead, and what a good choice that was. They were spectacular. We arrived in the pouring rain and I thought we might not even see them...but after an enthusiastic soaking, the skies cleared and the sun poured down. We stayed quite a while just looking at this unique and beautiful view, listening to the waves crashing on the rocks some 300 feet below us. Were almost dry by the time we got back to the car.

Our Monday evening B&B was also very nice in Ennis. We were directed to a pub called Brogan's for dinner, and were fortunate that a pub-band formed up about 9 pm. Started with one singer on his guitar and at the height of the evening comprised 5 fiddles, a ukulele, an accordion and a button accordion as well as the guitar. Really a lot of fun. Did you know that Irish music makes you drink? Well, neither did I, but I know now. I'm not feeling to sharp today. We're back in Dublin for our last night in Ireland....maybe I'll visit a church tonight instead of a pub!

Wicklow Mountains

Lovely day today! We got up early and headed out of Dublin for the Wicklow Mountains. Took an off-off-highway route over the top. Gorgeous. So many shades of green – who knew? About 35 miles over the mountains, on a sheep path. Had to give way to some ewes who made it very clear they own the highway. Met a few cars coming our way – that was fun. But soooo pretty! Made it to Glendalough before noon.
Glendalough is an ancient monastery that St. Kevin established in about the year 800. It flourished as a monastic city until about 1287 when the – er- English (again) came along and destroyed it. It survived the Vikings, but not the English. Hhhmmm. Hiked up a shortish path to Kevin’s hermitage, saw the ruins of the chapel where his followers worshipped and then the cathedral that was built in the early 1,000s. At one time was probably the largest building in Europe.

The graves are ancient. It boggles. But such a pretty spot – one could understand how to forget the world in this place. The best preserved building is a tower that rises about 354 meters, built before the turn of the century (the century 1,000 that is) and is still standing today. When the Vikings would come along, the monks would hide in the tower, take away the wooden bridge to the doorway and wait them out.

Had lunch there and then headed down the road to Waterford. Visited the home of Waterford Crystal. Couldn’t even bother to covet it -- I’ll never be that rich. On to Tramore where we are now tucked in to our bed and breakfast on the Atlantic beach. A stormy and brooding night – yup got soaked coming home from the 300 year old pub where we had a lovely dinner. The Atlantic is virtually right outside our front door, and if I may say so, it feels like it would like to knock on it tonight.

Tomorrow on to Kinsale and, if the weather is reasonable, Blarney to kiss the stone.

Glasgow, Belast, Dublin

On the road. The year is 2010 and nary an internet cafe in site. WTH?

The rain finally caught up with us. Knew it was going to happen. So while two weeks ago I was feeling pretty goofy for having packed my waterproof parka liner, in Glasgow I looked like a genius. Very different town from Edinburgh, which fairly tripped over itself to pack as much humanity, history and horror (OK that was done in the interest of alliteration) into a hilltop; Glasgow rambles. Not just geographically, but in architectural styles, economy and time. Victoria and George predominate, but you`ve got to give a nod to a lot of gothic and modern. (Photo on left from Glasgow). I`m really sorry we didn`t have more time here because there is a plethora of galleries, libraries and museums, but this was really drive-by touristing. Nothing to be proud of. Also, after so many days on the road, we were just tired – a great apartment and cool, wet weather drove us in early – which was good because an early start on Thursday for Ireland!

Fortunately for the tender tummy of this prairie dweller, the crossing by ferry from Troon to Larne was very smooth despite a bit of rain. Landed in Ulster and on the road to Dublin, stopping in Belfast briefly to visit with my cousin Dave Wassell. We were a little leery of stopping n Belfast at all as the British media was covering the Marching Season riots extensively. However, Belfast itself was peaceful and sunny. A quick lunch with Dave near the university where he works and on to Dublin.

Has anyone ever noticed how GREEN it is in Ireland?

Dublin is lovely. (Above, picture from River Liffey, Dublin). Thursday evening, we got into town early so checked in to the hotel and went for a walk down Grafton Street – very similar to shopping on Oxford Street in London. Modern, upscale and fast-paced. Lovely transit system (all above ground – hold your head up Calgary). Visited St. Patrick`s Cathedral, which sadly is not Catholic and not very Irish. Like a lot of the British cathedrals we have seen, the monuments inside are dedicated mostly to military leaders. What is up with that? Peace I leave with you, peace the world cannot give.

Did a city tour and spent time at several of the monuments dedicated to the 1916 Rising. Deeply moving when you understand what people will risk for freedom. How is it that England, who we think of as a hotbed of democracy, was still so severely oppressing its next door neighbours in the twentieth century?

Absolutely poured overnight so we took our umbrella and rain-gear everywhere we went. And, you guessed it, not a drop the whole day long. Yes.
And then there is Guinness. Gift to the world. You haven`t tasted Guinness until you`ve tasted Guinness in Dublin. Yum. Did the tour of the brewery – yeah after 350 years they pretty much have the recipe down to a science. I believe in the book of Guinness.

Edinburgh Rocks

Edinburgh looks like a set for Harry Potter - which should not be a surprise since JK Rowling sat in a coffee house called the Elephant House in old town Edinburgh and wrote the first book. Its architecture is unique in a "castles I have known" sort of sense and dark, winding side streets wind away from the main streets into little alleys where unusual shops can be found.

The Ediburgh Castle is spectacular. It sits atop an ancient volcanic peak and looks as if it has been carved into the mountainside itself. It is enormous - easily the largest caslte we have seen. And still very much alive and working today. The Black Guard is still barracked there and when we visited the place was very busy as the Queen was in town, Rod Stewart was about to play a concert in front of the castle doors and the Edinborough Tatoo was about to start.

The old town covers a lot of space and we didn't want to miss anything so, in addition to hours of walking, we also took a guided coach tour through the old town, and it was quite good - learned lots of history and saw a lot we would not likely have found on our own. We did however, quite by accident, find the burial place of Robert Lewis Stevenson. Just a stone in a grove of trees with RLS engraved on it. Also say Greyfriar's Bobby's statue and his final resting place. What a story - a little dog who went to keep guard on his master's grave every singe day for 14 years.

The Royal Mile made for great shopping and poking around into all the little stores where we met some colourful characters and very much enjoyed our day, despite the plunge in temperatures from the high 20s and low 30s we'd gotten used to in England to a high of about 15 degrees on Tuesday.

Dave and I went to a traditional Scottish restaurant for dinner last night but chickened out - no blood pudding or kidney pie for me, I'm afraid. I know - we are wimps. The rain started and it was quite cool so we also decided to forego a ghost tour in the evening - what tourists seem to do for fun around here!

Hadrian's Wall and Jedburgh

This was our longest driving day, and much of it was in winding, narrow roads in The North as we wound our way around Hadrian’s Wall and into Scotland. Ooooh, my tummy did not like that. No matter we had too lovely stops – one along the Wall at the old Roman Chester Fort, and the other in Jedburgh Abbey. Although there was rain along the way (which I did try to use my magic to send south), when we were out of the car the rain stopped. Jedburgh was down-right sunny. This morning has dawned with a beautiful blue sky in Edinburgh – something they haven’t seen in a while.

Hadrian’s Wall was built across Britain, west to east, by the Roman’s to keep the wicked Scot’s out of their “civilized” Britain. At the time the Romans left Britain, the wall stretched across the country and was about 15 feet high. Once the Roman’s left, the locals found the nicely piled stones a convenient supply of good sized square building stones, and over the centuries have simply taken it away to build their own homes and fences. But some parts remain so it is fairly easy to see what it must have been like. We visited the remains of a Roman Fort and the interpretive centre and exposed ruins were excellent.

As most of you know, I was born in a small village in Saskatchewan called Jedburgh. I always knew it was named after a town in Scotland – many of its early settlers were Scots and Brits. Although I don’t know who named the town Jedburgh or why, I always thought it would be cool to visit the one in Scotland. Today I got my wish! I walked the streets of Jedburgh, Scotland. It is the first town north of the border with England, so consequently spent most of its history getting its lights kicked out every time the Brits and Scots went to war. And that was frequent throughout the centuries. The good people just kept rebuilding when the soldiers (both sides) left.

Its main feature is an Augustinian Abbey first founded in 1138 by King David I. For the next four hundred years it was the centre of religious study, prayer and charity – when it wasn’t being trashed by those unruly English on their way to either invade Scotland or punish it for invading England. The Abbey was rebuilt each time it was burned, and really was beautiful. It was burned three times in the 1500s and the Canons finally gave up rebuilding it. Finally, when Henry VIII trashed the Catholic Abbeys in the 1560s the members of the monastery gave up and left for good. However, the people of the town continued to used the abbey as a church until the late 1800s. The town also had a castle and was sometimes home to Mary Queen of Scots – so is quite historic.

Jedburgh is built along Jed Waters and is surrounded by Jed Forest. The country-side around Jedburgh has deep rolling hills, hardwood forests and sheep farms. Quite lovely.

Long time no blog. Just been too busy. Back into London on July 7 for a day of shopping and an evening of theatre – saw Billie Elliot at the Victoria Palace. It was absolutely fabulous. So much talent – such a moving story. Cried my eyes out. God that kid can dance. Stayed at a boutique hotel in the Victoria Station area called the Georgian. Just about big enough to change your mind in... but perfectly adequate as we didn’t exactly spend a lot of time in the hotel. Up early the next morning to catch a bus (or should I say coach) out to Stonehenge.

This was a really awesome experience as we arrived at the site before it was open to the public and were allowed to go inside amongst the stones which is very, very prohibited these days – only a couple of opportunities a week – and we were among them. Very remarkable - the mystery persists: how did Stone Age people accomplish this? The plausible explanations developed just don’t answer all the possible questions. Not only how, but why? And where did they get the science and the ability to compute? And to what purpose? A beautiful marriage of science and faith. Mystery.

After leaving Stonehenge the coach carried on to Bath and we had the opportunity to visit the ancient Roman Baths. Also quite an experience as we stood inside the spa of 1,800 years ago. The water still runs very warm through the baths at a rate of several million gallons a day. What a spot. Though much of the Roman structure has been destroyed, what remains gives you a pretty good idea about how they took care of themselves in this “outpost” of the empire. Clearly they were well established a felt right at home in Britannia. Cool.

Back to London in late afternoon, and as we had a free evening on our hands, we decided to see another show and got last minute tickets to Wicked. It was light and fun and just gorgeous to look at, but not nearly the experience Billie Elliot was. Wish we had seen them in the opposite order – if we’d seen Wicked first we’d have been blown away by the costumes and music and sets and design... but we were left thinking: but where’s the story part of the story?

Friday, our last day in London, we had to make some choices since we were now down to hours and could not see it all. I went for the National Gallery and Dave for the Military Museum, and both were well satisfied. After four hours with the Masters, I was exhausted. Headed over to Covent Gardens for a wander around, a bite to eat and a sip of Pimms. I have no idea what this drink is, but it’s tasty and it makes me happy on a hot day. What the heck else could a person look for in a beverage?

Caught the train out in the late afternoon for Bookham (Leatherhead) for a visit with Dave’s cousins John and Anne, and early next morning headed north. We’ll be visiting a couple of days with Dave’s Aunt and cousins in Newark-on-Trent, take in the sites of Robin Hood’s legendary stomping grounds, and then we are on our way to Scotland. First stop, Hadrian’s Wall. Second stop, Jedburgh!

Catching up after the weekend

Some people just have the ability to make you feel like you have known them your whole life, and that’s what we found when we met Colin and Sandra Showell, Dave’s first cousin and his wife (pictured here in front of Salisbury Cathedral). Notwithstanding the fact we were two strangers landing on their doorstep on Saturday evening, by the time we left on Tuesday, we felt like very good friends and family. They have lovely children and grandchildren – and we landed into the heart of them!

Saturday was a full day! I drove from Oxford to Coventry, wanting to see the cathedrals – both medieval and new. So pleased that I did – it was a very moving experience. The old cathedral was bombed during the Second World War and was not restored, but the ruins were cleaned up as much as possible and were left to the open skies. Right next door a beautiful new cathedral was built – in the post-wars years, finally opening in the 1960s. The contrast of old and new, past and present is just awe-inspiring. The new cathedral is filled with the most extraordinarily beautiful artwork – including a remarkable stain-glass window that is so gorgeous. It was a beautiful, blue-sky day that made it a pleasure to be in the old cathedral – so peaceful and calm. Again, such a stark contrast to the ruined ancient monument you are seated within.

Left Coventry and headed over to Stratford-upon-Avon, thinking to spend the afternoon with the bard. When I arrived I found it was Stratford River Festival and the town was crawling with tourists (unlike me, who was there for the culture). Anyway, I did get to walk to the Avon and see the swans, take a picture of the birthplace of William Shakespeare and walk through town to the site of Anne Hathaway’s Cottage (0n left). Not particularly fulfilling – but I guess I won the jackpot with Coventry. How dare I complain?

Picked Dave up in Oxford and headed for Winchester to meet the Showells. And the rest, as they say, is history. Speaking of which, under Colin and Sandra’s tutelage we saw Salisbury and Winchester Cathedrals, St. Cross Church where we attended Sunday service, the Old Hall and King Arthur’s Table in what remains of Winchester Castle. If only Mrs. Lee, my grade eight teacher, could see me now.

Gardener's Paradise

I’ve just had two days of crack cocaine for gardeners – lengthy visits to Kew Gardens in London and the Blenheim Palace gardens near Oxford. I’ve changed my career plans. I no longer want to be a prairie horticulturalist – and even Australia is looking dicey. I think I should like to be an English gardener....

Blenheim Palace was extremely interesting for two reasons: One, the landscaping and gardens were the work of “Capability” Brown, the father of the modern English landscape garden, so it was such a classic view of the English countryside as landscaped, and two, Dave’s grandparents both served at Blenheim Palace during World War I; he as a butler and she as a maid. So this was a very educational, insightful and enjoyable day on Wednesday. Blenheim is located about 20 minutes from Oxford in beautiful country-side, which, I understand, is normally very green. But with the heat and drought here (!), the country-side is looking a little withered and burnt – still lovely to see. The Palace itself is everything one would expect – excessive, decadent and achingly beautiful. Home to the Churchill family, it was built following the Napoleonic Wars as a gift to the Duke of Marlborough as a little thank you from the Empire for his military victories. Winston Churchill, a cousin to the Duke of the day was born here and a good deal of the publicly accessible parts of the palace is dedicated to him and his story – which is pretty remarkable. The landscapes are sweeping vistas with strategically located bridges, ponds, statuary and follies. Secret gardens, rose bowers. Gorgeous.

Kew Gardens are home to the Royal Botanical Society and have been under development since 1759. It has the largest collection of plant specimens in the world and some of the most beautiful landscapes you can imagine. It’s over 350 acres and it contains all the classic constructs of English landscape gardening. As luck would have it, I had just finished a class in landscape gardening this spring and everything I learned was on display – so glad I’d taken the class because I knew and understood the concept, history and theory behind so much of what I was seeing, and the people who were behind the developments. I had a fabulous five hours in the gardens.

Dave was so sad to have missed this occasion; I know he dearly would have loved to have tread every mile in the humidity with me ... too bad for him! Oh well, he got to see the 165 pictures I took. Some of which are posted.

And not the least of the excitement was that I drove myself from Oxford into London. On the wrong side of the road. And home in rush hour traffic. Remember I used to have brown hair? Not so much anymore. It was worth it!