Once and Dublin

Landing at Dublin airport was a bit like being on a luna park ride. We bounced up and down to shrieks from the children aboard the flight. On landing we could see the wind blowing the grass and realised it was blowing a gale outside. it was bleak, wet and cold and I realised I had told Ed the wrong time for our flight arrival. We were two hours earlier than anticipated. Why am I so good at making these mistakes?

Fortunately, Ed checked on our flight and realised he had been given the wrong time, so we didn't have to wait two hours. After a wonderful warm welcome, and a delicious soup for lunch we set out on a walk in the drizzle through a magnificent autumnal forest. It reminded me of the forest of Fontainbleau in France. We don't have anything like it in Australia.





I just love these autumnal colours - they are simply spectacular.

It has been wonderful catching up with such dear friends who we have known for ever. Keith and Jane went to uni together and spent hours talking together. Keith and Ed were at college together. Since arriving here we have talked and talked and talked. I am surprised we still have voices.

Last night we watched a wonderful movie together with Ed and Jane's two gorgeous girls called Once. A low budget film set in Dublin about a man and woman who enjoy making music together. Both have left relationships with scars. However, the film is mostly about the music they make together and the chemistry of their relationship. The music from the film won the Oscar for the best sound and deservedly. This is not a chick flick and has a refreshingly moral end. There is no "hanky panky" using the words of one of the main characters. It was a great introduction to Dublin which we visited today.

We started the day in glorious sunshine, so much so, that it never occurred to Keith or I to pack raincoats - not a good idea in Ireland! We caught the Dart into Dublin. The line follows the coast right up the coast - we had the most spectacular views north and south and the sky was blue and without clouds and the sea sparkled. On arrival to Dublin, the weather had changed and a cold wind blew, the sky turned black and it began to rain. And it was cold. The sort of day that I would snuggle up inside and sew or read a book - not explore a new city and sit on the top of a bus with an open top. However, the weather doesn't stop the Irish from doing anything.

We retreated to a cafe and waited for the weather to change. Jane assured us it would and sure enough it did. The rain vanished and the sun came out. But the cold remained. We did a tour on an open topped bus of Dublin and turned into iceblocks. Dublin is a delightful city - Georgian in style - most of the buildings are built of grey stone, and it is also the city of the doors. Each door is painted a different colour. It reminded me of the amish quilts that are bright vibrant in colour but the women all wear black. Dublin is a city of grey with splashes of vibrant colour. The result is quaint and unique.

We did some shopping in the afternoon and ran out of time to be tourists properly. We later found out it was a mere 4 degrees - perhaps explaining our reluctance to spend much time outside. We searched the shops for a woollen hat to keep my head warm.

We are about to watch the movie called Michael Collins who was a revolutionary in Ireland. We saw much today about this man and I am keen to learn more.

Tomorrow we are driving to the west coast of Ireland - Clare for a couple of nights. I am now prepared - with a new woolly cap and will wear all my winter woollies.

Glimpses of Paris

It is not possible to explore and experience Paris in two days, but Keith and I did our very best to fit in as much as we could. It is easy to understand why it is referred to as the "city of love" and is the setting for so many films. All our senses were awakened during our two days there and each experience contributed to a visit that was richly rewarding.

My friend Libby accompanied us into Paris and took us to our hotel where we deposited our luggage. Libby wanted to show me a fabric shop located close to the Notre Dame which unfortunately was closed. We had a coffee and then said our farewells - what a wonderful hostess she was.

What a perfect day for Paris - not a cloud in the sky. Our feet walked for miles as we explored from Notre Dame to Arc de Triumph and back - we enjoyed the parks and gardens - we sat in the warm sunshine and appreciated the warmth and sunlight.





Fancy coming across a tree house in the middle of Paris!

The Musee Orangerie is a small gallery but filled with Monet's and Renoir that we wanted to sit and gaze at for the rest of the day. We enjoyed Rodin's sculptures in his garden and house. The gardens were a peaceful place to sit and enjoy the soft light. It is easy to understand what the impressionists were trying to capture in their artwork - the light and soft dappled colour.



The sun sparkled on Rodin's statues - they are breathtakingly splendid in expressing passion and the beauty of the human body.



We visited the Musee de Cluny to see the Lady and the Unicorn which literally took my breath away. Each tapestry depicts a different sense, with the fifth devoted to desire. They are large in size and the stitches small and precise. Each tapestry includes the lady, the unicorn and a lion - the colours are rich and lavish. Again, we wanted to sit and appreciate their beauty and the incredible attention to detail. No picture can do justice to them - I bought a calendar, but they are a shadow of the real thing.

We reached our hotel at about nine pm exhausted. Our feet swollen with walking but exhilarated at the beauties contained in this unique city. Our hotel was close to Place d'Italy and a delightful suburb filled with restaurants, cafes and quiet streets and parks. It was an extremely comfortable place to stay and we even had a bath where we soaked our feet.

The metro and RER are an underground labyrinth. As one friend said to us, it is a wonder that Paris hasn't collapsed from the digging out of ground to make way for the trains. However, there are also the endless underground walking tunnels that connect lines to each other at different stations. You could spend so much time walking underground in these black tunnels - filled with people rushing, texting and speaking to each other. There are also a number of buskers who play - there was a harp playing Vivaldi - what a glorious sound to listen to moving from one platform to another. There are also the homeless who are sprawled throughout the tunnels - seeking refuge and there are also those who beg for money. We were constantly on our guard for pickpocketers, but unprepared for the con artists who appeared before us often, convincing us we had just dropped an 18 carot god ring on ground we had never walked on and then asking for money, and there were others asking for money to save their African country. We parted with ten euros, and are still not sure if we responded to a genuine request for money or were hoodwinked.

Once you have mastered the trains, it makes travelling around Paris easy and efficient. However, it is far more pleasant to walk above ground and enjoy the buildings, the gardens, the people, the bakeries and flower shops and the river.







We caught a train to Bastille and walked along a disused viaduct that has been transformed into a walkway with gardens passing through a french neighbourhood. It is possible to see the old Paris, the new and how they mix and combine together. There were no tourists here - just locals enjoying the sunshine and gardens - it was quiet and peaceful. We even came across a scarecrow!



At the end of the viaduct, we managed to get totally lost and had much trouble finding the metro to return to the city centre. We asked three people for directions - happily given, but we must have misunderstood, as it was not until our third attempt that we succeeded.

There was much more we managed to cram into our two days museums and gardens and we ate more bread and pastries than we ever had in our lives and enjoyed each mouthful.

On Saturday, we had an early start to catch a plane to Dublin. The sun was still shining and we were both sad to be leaving a place that we had enjoyed and appreciated - all of our senses had been awakened.

A day in the country in France

Our friends gave us a wonderfully warm welcome - it was great to meet someone who could speak English - I must admit we felt a little out of our comfort zone, particularly when we had to call our friends to collect us from the station and the phones would not accept coins or our credit card. We had to find a shop to find a phone card.

Our friends have just moved to this area just south of Paris and their house is lovely and a home away from home. My friend had just finished making a quilt that she had been working on in Sydney when I had last seen her in August - we had bought the fabric together and it looked spectacular in the room we were sleeping in. They are both incredibly artistic and their walls are covered with their artwork and creativity.

The children had the next day off school, so we all headed off with a picnic lunch and their puppy cocker spaniel Rocky for the country. We drove firstly to Babizon - a delightful village where many artists used to live and work and holiday - including Millet. It looks like it has changed little - very rustic and unpretentious. We went into Millet's studio - he had taught Van Gogh and his walls were covered with his art and the art of other artists.



We then bought fresh croissants from a local bakery and ate them contentedly walking down the main street. The autumn leaves are spectacular - ranging from yellows, to gold, crimson and rust. There are still leaves that are green - so the colours are captivating. The day was clearing into the day we began to have back at Heathrow.



We then loaded back into the nine seater van - four adults, four children and a dog -



and drove through the Forest de Fountainbleau - which is simply glorious towards Chateau Fontainbleau. We had our lunch there in the formal french gardens, with the sun warming our backs. The Chateau is an impressively large building and it is understandable why there was a revolution, realising that a few wealth families lived in style here while most of the population lived in abject poverty. We enjoyed the stillness in the air and the reflections on the water and the pair of white swans who flew majestically over us and landed onto the pond.





The detail on the buildings was exquisite:



After a lazy stroll, we again piled into the van and drove towards Chartres - a beautiful town with a large cathedral.


It took over an hour to get there and we drove through beautiful countryside and saw a flock of deer scampering across the fields. We arrived late afternoon - we could see the spires of the cathedral for miles before arriving. We managed to park and walk up the hill to explore the cathedral. Keith and I had a quick look inside while the children ate ice creams. As the sun was beginning to sink, we explored the town and enjoyed its beauty - the houses, quirky narrow streets and little streams that we passed - the colours were golden and soft.





What tickled our fancy was this display for the recent World Youth Day that took place in Sydney in July:

Paris - finally

After a very early start and arriving at Heathrow to a day filled with bright sunlight and anticipation, our plane was delayed by two hours. At least it was not Tashkent airport, and we were able to sit in sunlight and read and write drinking cups of coffee and tea. It was pouring with rain on our arrival. We decided to buy bagettes for a quick bite to eat before attempting the RER into Paris. Even the bread tastes delicious at the airport! It was the best ham and cheese bagette I have ever tasted.

The train trip was memorable for two things - the crowds and managing with our luggage, and listening to the passengers chat to each other. I sat with two business men who chatted non stop for the entire trip. We managed to change lines and emerged above ground at Les Pyramids, to collect train tickets and museum passes, before walking across La Seine to the Blue RER line to travel out to our friends home. Despite the rain, we were excited to finally arrive in this "city of love".

York Part 2

This morning we headed back into York where we parked easily and found our way into the walled part of the city. Cathedrals have this irresistable urge and this one pulled us towards it. We just had to go inside and explore. The tower to this one was open. Keith is a mountain goat and needs to climb to the top of anything that can be climbed. It was 275 steps up - around and around and it got narrower and narrower. If I were a true woman of traditional build, I would not have fitted and would have been stuck, just like Winne the Pooh who had to stay there until he grew a little thinner.

The climb was worth it - the view was glorious. Blue skies and a howling wind. We could see gardens, remnants of the wall, bits of the castle, houses and the industrial cities that lie south and west.



The Cathedral, again, carries many stories in its walls and plaques. There was the young minister's wife, Mary, who was travelling north to recover her health who died aged 22.



After our exploring of the Cathedral, we walked to the wall, and walked around about one third of the city's circumference. We were reminded that this is a "working city" as the first tower had a few homeless men, seeking shelter from the wind and rain, drinking their beer. The wall was amazing to walk around and imagine it standing and protecting this city for almost two thousand years is incredible.



This is a photo of one of the gates to enter the city of York.



I loved peeking through this window in one of the turrets while climbing down from the wall - I could see a toy shop with a model train set on display. I couldn't get over the changes that have taken place in this place over the centuries.

After our lunch, we needed to get going, as we had to drive down to Heathrow for the night. The drive down the M1 was wet and gloomy. We are now getting ourselves organised for our four days in Paris - I can't quite believe this is really happening!

Durham

Our love hate relationship continued with the GPS system. I have decided that I much prefer a good map and use my own judgment. We drove up the A1 as fast as legally permissible to meet Jess and Byron at a particular corner on Saddler Street. I had no map of Durham, again, not a wise thing for a tourist, I had looked at a google map, but when faced with the streets and the city, confusion reigned. We were late for our meeting and were beginning to stress.

We found a place to park, found a public library who gave us a map and good directions and ran. Jess and Byron had actually rung Michael to get our mobile phone numbers - it would have been 11.30 pm but they figured he would probably be awake. It was lovely to see them and we had a wonderful time with them.

After a sandwich lunch, we headed to the top of the hill for the Cathedral. Jess and Byron had spent the previous day and night on Lindisfarne Island and had learnt all about St Cuthbert who had been a bishop of northern England in the 1100s, and had travelled extensively evangelising. On his death, he had been buried at Lindisfarne, but ten years later, his coffin had been raised. It was discovered that his body was still intact, thus beginning the process to make him a saint. It could have been the cold that kept his body from decaying - who knows, but it was fascinating to find out about him and the history of this area after his death.

St Cuthbert is now buried at Durham Cathedral. It again is a massive building, dominating the landscape. It stands next door to the Castle. This castle had been built at the time of William the Conquerer, to protect his northern lands. It has been a "working" castle ever since - either with soldiers, princes or prince bishops residing. Today it houses university students and the university. It is in constant use 24/7. This part of the city is almost on an island as the river curves around it on three sides. Sadly, no photos. After browsing the cathedral and a fascinating exhibition of historical items relating to the history of St Cuthbert, we did a tour of the castle. The kitchen has remained in the same place and the original fireplaces still exist. The original kitchen bench stands in another part of the castle - a magnificent piece of wood, with many memories on its surfaces - if only they could speak!

The most senior students are privileged to live in a certain part of the castle. They are without running water or bathroom - meaning they have to go down a very narrow flight of stairs to a nearby bathroom. All the students must robe for dinner every night and are fined if they get up during the meal, if their phone rings or they don't follow protocol and the fines are fairly hefty. They also have a 10 pm curfew and the gates are locked. There is a tiny door in the large door and latecomers need to crawl through this. Imagine this happening at Moore College!

We had an afternoon immersed in history and each of us were engrossed and enthralled. After a welcome cup of tea and hot chocolate, we said good bye and went our separate ways. What a wonderful way to spend an afternoon with friends who we won't see again for three years.

Fountains Abbey

I had never heard of the Fountain's Abbey. We went there, as we had no intention of returning to York until Monday, and wanted to fill the morning before heading up to Durham - a mere hour and a half up the A1 to meet Jess and Byron for lunch. Our morning exploring this exquisite place is indescribable. This Abbey started to be built in the seventh century. However, it was founded properly in 1132 under the Cistercian Order. The abbey's name comes from Bernard of Clairvaux or St Bernard de Fontaines. Richard Baxter and John Calvin both quoted Bernard of Clarivaux, so Keith was familiar with this man.



In 1538 or 1538, Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries, which impacted this Abbey. The roof was removed and the abbey was abandoned to the elements. Only the ruins remain. They stand beside a river, in a valley surrounded by woods. It is secluded, quiet and seems a perfect place for a retreat from the world. It was a place where the monks spent their days in a rigorous regime of meditation, work, and prayer. They cared for the poor and needy. At some state, Anne Boleyn must have spent time here, as there is a lookout where she used to walk and sit. We went there and it is easy to understand why she chose to have a seat here.

It is autumn, so the trees are yellow and golden and a deep crimson. The colours were spectacular. After looking around the ruins of this enormous abbey, we did a long walk through the grounds, through forests with views. We saw squirrels, birds and enjoyed the peace and tranquility of this place of beauty. There is a tunnel that we walked through and I wondered if we would emerge - it was quite long and were in pitch dark for a time.

This was the time when the worst thing that can happen for a tourist happened with no warning. My camera battery died and I didn't have a spare one. Keith had gently suggested we get one weeks ago, but I had said there was no need. I am not sure who was angrier, but it made me cherish each moment to my memory. I also bought postcards at the shop.

We could have spent an entire day there, not a mere morning and then have a long drive up to Durham. I am determined to return one day for a full day and with a camera that has a charged battery! If you are interested in seeing more pictures, you can visit their website: http://www.fountainsabbey.org.uk/ Interestingly, it is a world heritage site and I can understand why.

York Part 1

After a very long drive up north, we reached York. Only mad Aussie's would attempt to do our trip. Despite leaving early, and a love/hate relationship with our GPS which meant we made a few wrong turns, we managed to reach York, to find it gridlocked with cars and people. We finally managed to park, find somewhere to get some lunch and find a map so that we could find the Quilt Museum. The roads were full of people - a bit like at the Royal Easter show, but worse. We walked up this street called "the shambles" and it was just that complete shambles.



This is Shambles on Monday - today, not Saturday. On Saturday, this street was packed with crowds of people and it took ages to reach the other end of the street.

After what seemed like ages, we finally found the museum, on this quaintly named street Peasholme Green and Keith left me to browse and drool. It was a magic ninety minutes I spent there. Although a small exhibition in size, the quilts came from all over the world and from different time periods and it was fascinating to see common techniques and ideas being expressed. I was not allowed to take photographs, so I engraved them into my memory and tried to describe them to Keith later. I am sure it was a bit like him explaining to me some of Ricky's ideas.



This is the plaque on the outside to the museum.

York is a marvellous city. The central part is almost completely surrounded by a wall, built by the Romans in 71AD.





After visiting the museum, we headed for where we were staying for the night. A delightful B & B at Claxton, which is near Flaxton, which is where we had dinner at the local pub filled with locals. The meals were enormous. We both had pork shanks which looked like they were for giants, but it was tender and delicious. We enjoyed being away from the crowds of York.

London

We have had a wonderful taste of the delights and hassles of London. How to encapsulate our experience into one postcardsnap? London is vast. The roads are in a permanent state of gridlock, with red London buses and old fashioned black taxis dominating. We saw two road signs marking recent fatalities - the dates and times. Underneath the roads lies the underground. A complex warren of trainlines that cross from one side of the city to the other. A train arrives to a full platform every two minutes and in the time between trains, the platform rapidly fills with more people. Where have the come from and where are they going? The people are rushing, moving rapidly from place to place carrying cappuccinos, and having conversations on their mobiles. It is a city in perpetual motion.

There are glimpses into past eras - the Tower of London transports you back to times such as the 1200s, and to the Tudors. They were centuries of kingdom building and religious intolerances - there are the memories of gruesome beheadings and tortures - there are the etched messages of those imprisoned on the walls remaining, each marking a life. There is Big Ben in his elegant splendour. St Paul's Cathedral, Sir John Soames House Museum, the Charles Dickens House Museum, the British Museum and the British Library, we walked to each and had a glimpse at something truly remarkable.

There are places of serenity and quiet beauty to walk, sit and enjoy. I loved Russell Square, with its cafe. I walked through Hyde Park one cold, sunny day along the Princess Diana Memorial walk and remembered a beautiful princess who captured the hearts of millions. Keith and I got engaged and married in the same year as Princess Di and Prince Charles. Her wedding, so picture perfect in every way, it was hard not to be envious.

What was it about Diana that captured the interest and love of so many? She stood for everything that looked perfect, beautiful - the idea of perfection. How apt that her memorial fountain is beside the statue of Peter Pan. The boy who never grew up. This statue is in my memory. My mother took me to visit it in 1967 - I was almost seven. I remember I was wearing yellow, it was sunny and we crawled all over Peter Pan. We touched the bronze animals - it is a child's statue.

As I remember my childhood and the life of a princess, I wonder whether her popularity has anything to do with people's desire for something perfect and beautiful in their own lives. Her tragic death was a harsh reminder that life is not like that - we were sad not only for her death, but the loss of a princess who was beautiful and almost perfect. Peter Pan didn't want to grow up and face the realities of an adult life. Sometimes, I think we would all like to retreat into a world that is beautiful and unspoilt.

To discover the more pleasant side of London, you really need to walk. I have tramped many miles this week, and I am acutely aware of the two planter warts on my feet that have taken the brunt of each step. At the end of each day, my feet have ached. I have also had a day when it seemed as if everything was going wrong. I was reminded, as I often am, of Alexander and his terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. Johnnie had a nasty sore throat, was feverish and felt like staying in bed. I thought I would race off, buy half price tickets to a show and explore the National Gallery. Our closest station is Holborn and it had closed, due to an underground fire. I walked to Covent Garden, the next station, and lost my debit card in a ticketing machine. It was the first time I had attempted to use it and it vanished. I became a flustery, flushed, middle aged woman who did silly things. Later, at Piccadilli, I became lost and wondered where I was and how I had gotten there. I had to return to our apartment to cancel the card and by then I was exhausted. It goes to show, that just because I am in London, I can still have one of those days when everything seems to go wrong.

However, I did get tickets to the Queen musical "We Will Rock You" which was out of this world. I also encountered some exceedingly kind and helpful people who bent over backwards to restore the dignity of this frazzled woman. The understated comment of the station master captured it for me: "that is a novel place to put a card, I've not seen that one before".

There are two buildings that captured the two different sides of London. There is Big Ben with his slow and understated gong, that we have all heard on television and radio that reminds us of a bygone era that we are rapidly leaving behind. Behind Big Ben stands the London Eye - a giant ferris wheel commemorating the new millenium. It is bold and brash and symbolic of the new London that is modern and very twenty first century filled with glass, technology and speed.

Cooking on an Aga

This post is dedicated to Michael who was keen to get a mention. I have been enjoying using Margaret's gas aga immensely. You can cook a fantastic roast very quickly and the roasted potatoes that Keith have done have been the best ever. I have also done some slow cooking in the cooler oven. The lamb shanks fell off the bone. The aga ensures that the kitchen is always warm and it dries clothes magnificently. You just drape them all over and leave overnight and come downstairs to clean, dry washing.

Boiling a kettle is fast, so I am enjoying making cups of tea. I will miss it. Michael loves cooking and would enjoy experimenting and trialling different recipes on this stove. Keith has enjoyed the warmth sitting in front of his computer at the kitchen table beside the aga.

Oxford

While I had been to the Law Library, Keith had spent a profitable morning in the Bodleian library. After lunch, I headed off to visit the Christ Church College and the Ashmolean Art Gallery while Keith returned to the library. He was in his element, being able to sit and read the resources there.

Christ Church College is enormous and spectacularly beautiful. The cathedral is the largest in Oxford and dates back to the 1600s.





The dining hall is where the filmed Harry Potter. It had the aromas of a cooked lunch while I strolled up and down beside its long tables. I wondered if it had included mashed potatoes and boiled cabbage.

I then discovered some Condie history. I found a list of those who died while serving with the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light infantry between 1939 and 1945. It just happened to be opened at the Co page and there listed was a Private Gordon Donald McKenzie Condie with the date 11 November 1943 next to it. My Father-in Law Alan has researched much family history. I am curious if there is any link with this Condie.



My head had not been fantastic these last few days, so I decided to retire to a cafe with my book and sit quietly. There is a lovely cafe in the Ashmolean Art Gallery, so I spent the remainder of the afternoon happily engrossed in my book. I am reading my third Margaret Forster book in a row - "Shadow Baby". I had finished reading "Hidden Lives"earlier that week and had enjoyed that enormously. Keith and I met up again in the late afternoon and had a quick browse of the gallery before returning to Morton in Marsh by train.

Oxford is where my father grew up and there is so much more I would like to see and discover. I can only imagine what it was like for him there growing up. I know that he went to the Dragon School, which is now one of the most expensive schools in Oxford, but it wasn't then. He loved riding his bike and walking. I can imagine that he enjoyed cycling out into the countryside and around the town exploring.

Bodleian Law Library in Oxford

Last Thursday, Keith and I had another early start and caught the train for Oxford - yet again. I had arranged to meet the Law Librarian Ruth Bird at 10.30 and she had kindly agreed to show me around the library. It was a half hour walk from the station which I enjoyed enormously. Oxford sparkled and I enjoyed the relative quiet compared to the chaos from the day before in London. There is such a charm and elegance about Oxford.

The Bodleian Law Library is the largest law library in England and impressive. The building is relatively new - it was opened in 1964. Despite its youth, it has a heritage order on it, making it virtually impossible to make any changes to the building at all. There are many features of this library that I love. It is light and open. The ceiling is glass, letting in natural light. The ground floor is surrounded on three sides by additional levels that overlook the ground floor. There are long desks in the middle for the undergraduate students to use and then the masters and post grad students have their own desks or cubicles with views overlooking a beautiful field. The shelving is wooden and light in colour so the overall impression is of light and space. The architect created a building that has allowed a collection to expand and grow at a rate of a third of a kilometre each year.

The floor is cork tiles, which sounds rather nice, but after forty years, many are blackened by use. They can't be replaced by any other floor type - remember that heritage order? and cork tiles are no longer made. Ruth has made a few changes to the building, but each has been prefaced by years of meetings and negotiations. At least our pink carpet squares don't have any heritage value.

The collection is impressive and organised by jurisdiction - rather confusing for the user, as their books really could be anywhere, but this is in the process of change, as the library converts to the Moys system, which will be much more useful for the students. The ethos of the library is changing under Ruth's direction as the staff move from invigilating to a more user friendly approach. For the understated British, this will be some accomplishment.

The collection includes legislation going back to Henry VIII. Imagine that! They also have a wonderful collection of primary and secondary resources from the US, Canada, most of Europe, the EU and also the United Nations. What a privilege to work in such a library! I was inspired to see this library as it holds a wealth of treasures on its shelves.

London by train

We had an early start to Morton in Marsh to catch the train to London. What a beautiful way to travel. You can book your seats and sit in relative comfort as the countryside flashes past. Such a golden morning. Keith spent his London day in Dr William's Library which is located at Gordon Square in London. This is quite close to the British Museum. He found the library was from a different era with an antiquated computerised catalogue but filled with many treasures relating to Ricky Baxter.

I took Johnnie to St Pancras to catch a train to Paris. It was chaotic as the timetables had changed and no one really knew which train they were meant to catch. I took Johnnie as far as I could before only passengers could go. I then departed. Little knowing that Johnnie was frisked and searched and told that he couldn't travel as he was an unaccompanied minor. Does he really look like he could be a suicide bomber? Is this why he was treated with such suspicion and ferocity? I had no phone, so Johnnie had no way of contacting anyone who could help him. Fortunately, a woman, an angel in disguise said she would accompany him and got him through customs and onto the train. I am sure he breathed a sigh of relief. There is nothing on the train's website saying that minors are not allowed to travel unaccompanied. I have sent an email to complain but am not expecting a reply.

I hope that he gets back to London alright tomorrow. My friend Libby, who met him in Paris said she thought he was remarkably calm about the entire event.

Oblivious to my son's plight, I went to the British Library, ate my sandwich in the sunshine and then browsed the treasures. There are many, but the one that I am remembering now is Jane Austen's writing table and two of her manuscripts. I was in awe to look at such treasures that carry stories of a past era.

I then tackled the underground and found my way to Liberty's and Oxford Street. The crowds, noise and general chaos overwhelmed me so I returned to Russell Square - a delightful park in the middle of a square and found a sun filled cafe in its centre and bought a large cup of tea and read my book. I watched the squirrels scurrying up and down the trees and watched the different people sitting at the tables. I was not in a hurry to go anywhere.

Keith and I met up at five pm and explored the nearby streets and found bookshops and other fun shops that we can return to this week. We managed to make our way back to Paddington Station, where I could have bought a Paddington Bear for Susannah as she has a vast collection of bears that she adores and treasures. One day there will be no room for her because of her bears. We got home a bit before ten pm. A long and exhausting day.

Church in Churchill

Ursula is very involved with her local church which was built in 1180. It is a beautiful and old church with a sad history. The village of Churchill was a plague village during the fourteenth century, so most of the village probably died and they moved away from the church, so it is now located beside a field. We went to church with Ursula to a service celebrating harvest festival. The church was filled with autumn flowers and vegetables. During the service, members of the congregation took food to the front of the church and then lit a candle and placed it on a map of the world on the place the food had come from.

One of the most remarkable features of this church is the Latch Memorial dedicated to Thomas and Sarah Latch and dated 1644. Sarah died in childbirth with her twelfth child and this baby is depicted wrapped in a black shawl. Their other eleven sons and daughters are kneeling and four of them are carrying skulls, to indicate that they had died before their mother. Sarah is wrapped in a shroud and her face peeks through. It is detailed and filled with the emotion capturing the sorrow of her husband and children. I can't imagine having that many children - she must have spent most of her married life being pregnant or caring for a baby. The exhaustion she must have endured. It is a tribute though to a woman at a time when women were not often recognised in their role as mother, wife and nurturer. She was going to be sorely missed and not easily replaced.





There were other sad stories depicted on the walls. There was a memorial plaque dating from the 1840s. The minister of the church at this time, Rev Bellew-Archer and his wife Marian, lost their daughters Elissa, Ioanna, Ada and Mariana and son Basil within four years, the youngest being six months, the eldest nineteen. The verse is particularly poignant to this couple: "there shall be no more death, neither sorrow nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain." I can't imagine the tears this couple must have shed.

There were also two boys aged thirteen, who in 1944, towards the end of the war were up exploring on the hill that we had wandered over with Ursula the day before. A german bomber was returning to cross the channel after bombing Bristol who decided to drop his remaining bomb onto the hillside, hitting and killing these boys who were innocently doing the sort of thing that boys do at that age - exploring and enjoying the outdoors. A memorial has been erected in their memory.

Each of these events have happened during very different centuries, but the walls of this church contains all of these memories - many happy while others more happy - such as the marriages of both my cousins Elizabeth and Susannah.

Ursula and a few of the women in the congregation have been making kneelers for the church. They fill the church with colour, vibrancy and the opportunity to remember events in the lives of the members of the congregation. Ursula made the first two cushions for my cousin Lizzy's marriage to William. She used the picture of a lily from one of the stained glass windows as her motive. It took her two months to complete them both.





There is the cushion marking Ursula's marriage to my uncle John - which has a peacock and orange flowers. Ursula uses this cushion each week. There are also cushions made for Susannah and Alex and for each of her six grand daughters.





The service was very simple but a meaningful time of remembering to give thanks to God for the provision of food in the crops that are harvested, and the animals who are raised. It was wonderful to come out to a day filled with sunshine and vibrancy.

We returned to Dove Cottage for a delicious lunch of roast lamb and apple and blackberry pie which we ate sitting out in the garden. Keith and I take full credit for bringing this spate of wonderful weather. After a wet summer, they were relishing the opportunity to be outside and making the most of the sunshine.





It was a wonderful day spent with family who I have enjoyed meeting and getting to know a little. Susannah and her husband Alex are delightful - as are their girls. We had fun over lunch sharing jokes - Sophia at five has a wonderful sense of humour while Florence reminds me of myself - she doesn't always get the joke and needs to have it explained. My family often accuse me of being exceedingly dense. It was great to have so many conversations with Ursula and find out all sorts of things about my family and her life.

Wells

It was market day in Wells, so we had fun browsing around. Keith headed for the books while Ursula and I looked at beautiful jewellery. We met up with Susannah and her girls and fed the ducks and swans. The sun was shining and it was as if the entire town of Wells and its surrounds were making the most of this golden autumn day.



It was such a contrast to last weekend that we spent with Stephen and Lynn - another of my cousins. It had rained the entire weekend and it hadn't cleared until we were heading home on Sunday evening.

There is an incredible cathedral in Wells which was built in 1180. Just a few years ago. The inside is fairly sparsely furnished and lacks the memorial plaques and heavy furniture found in so many other cathedrals. The stained glass windows had been destroyed during the Reformation, and were replaced with plain glass which lets much light enter, which makes it light and airy. There is this amazing scissors archway at the front of the cathedral which had been a clever construction in the late 1100s to stop the cathedral from sinking into the muddy land. The result is a spectacularly shaped arch that looks beautiful in its simplicity.





The girls, Florence and Sophia had a children's activity sheet with questions about different parts of the cathedral that kept them happy and amused. We watched the clock chime - a little man taps a bell with his foot while some armoured soldiers chase each other around with their weapons while the chimes ring. To take photographs, you need to buy a licence, so I resisted and had to restrain my hands. It became too much when we reached the staircase to the chapter house. These stairs have been worn down by being trodden on for so many centuries. What stories their worn down steps must share. So, I took a couple of snaps.



The chapter house was octagonal shaped and quite empty. It was a calm and tranquil place to just sit and enjoy the ceiling and its understated beauty.



We later wandered down this amazingly old cobbled street that is connected to the Cathedral and were passed by the Cathedral school choir, who were dressed immaculately - the girls wore long navy blue cloaks and looked angelic. We then were passed a group of girls returning home from hockey - wearing protective gear and short skirts and covered in mud. I would use the word athletic to describe them.



The sky was Sydney blue. It was warm and balmy. We wandered down back through the markets to find a loaf of crusty bread to go with our soup for dinner. One of the charms of the High Street of Wells, were the magnficent basket of flowers hanging in front of each shop.



One of the pubs was encouraging patrons to visit:



That evening, we again talked and talked in front of the fire and almost forgot to have dinner.