April 30: Oh the places we’ve been!

Today we decided we were just going to stay in the local area, and have a relaxed day.  Our plan was to see Clive and ask what shouldn’t be missed, and that’s just what we did – getting him to come down in his bathrobe!

We went only a mile or two down the road to Hartpury and saw the historic church and its beehive.  It is a magical place, and one that we very nearly skipped (we are so glad we didn’t!).  Our next stop brought us through Apperly, and on to Deer Hurst, where we saw the oldest Saxon chapel in the country, called Odda’s chapel, and The Priory Church of St. Mary, which is from the 8^th Century.  We carried on to the wool town of Ledbury, where we visited rooms that were old when Shakespeare was alive.  We dodged raindrops, and took walks in the sunshine when we could along the Severn River, and through lovely rural towns. 

I think Kathleen and I are going to miss the view from our front French doors more than anything when we leave here.  The moor hens (I had to ask what they were), the pheasant, the baby bunnies, the ducks, the sheep and the doves are much better entertainment than the television could ever hope to be.  Everywhere we went we saw animals, domestic and wild, and everything seems so vitally alive.  Even the sheep licking the centre line of the road, although if they continue to surprise drivers the way they surprised us, they may not be quite so vital for long.  I am a bit concerned that Kathleen will not be able to retain her newly acquired language, sheep, once she leaves the area.  (As I write this, she is literally standing at our front door bleating at the sheep, and they are responding.  She had a long discussion with a lamb about standing in the road, earlier today.)

Or maybe we will miss the glory of spring in the English countryside and walking all over the public right of way paths.  Everywhere we look we see something we need to point out to each other and absorb into our brains.

Our first stop of the day was Hartpury, a place that is a few buildings at a crossroad like others that we have passed by without a second glance.  We went there because Clive told us there was a great tombstone there for a man killed when the bell fell out of the bell tower.  While we saw the tombstone – and I swear we attempted to read every tombstone, however illegible,  –  we had no idea what it said.  We saw some truly historic buildings, and wondered how many equally historic buildings we have driven by without a thought of the stories they could tell.

We saw the tithe barn, where farmers who were tenants of the Parish paid their rent in crops.  It is a fourteenth century building, still being used as a cow barn, and it is the third one built on the site!

We walked down to the mill.  The mill pond and an older mill were there in the 12^th Century, but this one is really new, having been built in the late 1700s.

The church is very old.  The tower was added recently – in the Fourteenth Century.  Kathleen took one look at it and said, “That’s a Norman tower on an even older church.”  Betcha she wouldn’t have said that two weeks ago!

One of the things that makes this church famous is its bee hive, which is more like a stone stand for bee hives.  The town itself is named after a type of hard pear called a “Hart Perry”, and pear growing is important here, hence the bee hives.  The bee hives are made of straw, and farmers used to encourage swarming, put the swarm in a new hive, and destroy the old hive to get the honey.  

BUT THIS IS NOT ALL!  There are Catholic Nuns and their confessors buried in the Anglican Churchyard.  Why?  Because Dominican nuns had to flee Brussels during the French Revolution, and the family at Hartpury gave them shelter in 1794.  Eventually they had their own “chapel” and supported themselves by running a day school.  The last of these nuns had died by 1839, and exactly 100 years later Catholic nuns forced to leave London during the blitz returned and lived here for the duration of the war.

The Hartpury family established a college at Gloucester University and had a beautiful estate – and all that is left is a few pretty buildings by the side of the road.  As we looked at the tombstones – some recent, some from the Seventeenth Century, and barely legible – we really got the sense, as Kathleen says, that “We really are just passing through.”  A human life really is a blip, but there is comfort in knowing that we all contribute to the future.

There is so little left of this effigy, here long before the tree above it.

As we drove toward Apperly, we drove over the Severn River, and couldn’t resist taking a short walk over the bridge to admire the brooding skies on one side, and bright skies on the other.

A canal boat converted to a wharf.

We drove to Odda’s Chapel, which is the oldest Saxon Church in England, and is located in Deer Hurst, very near to Apperly.  The chapel was built by Earl Odda, in the reign of Edward the Confessor, for the benefit of the soul of his brother Aelfric, who died on 22 December 1053.  Four hundred years later, it was incorporated into a Farmstead, and this building is still attached – and lived in, apparently, as the Royal Mail was delivered while we were there.  The dedication stone was found in the Seventeenth Century, and is now in Oxford, and this led the Rev. Butterworth to look for it, and find it part of a farmhouse.

The half-timbered section is so old it is bowed out.

The Parish Church of St. Mary is very near to Odda’s Chapel.  It is a very old church, and while we were unable to get into the church today, we got a good look at the outside.  They used stones from many sources, including an “angel” from a Roman grave marker high up on an obscure outside wall.

We also got an education on the eventual fate of grave markers.  It is unusual to see anything older than Seventeenth Century outside – it might explain all of the intramural monuments in cathedrals.  We saw hundreds of broken tombstones, toppled crosses propped up, and many more that were just too worn to tell what the original shape had been, let alone to read.  Like the First Nation Totems at home, these markers for ordinary people were seen as temporary markers, lasting as long as the memory of the departed, and then crumbling away.  

This grave marker is literally sopitting into layers.

 

Off we went to Ledbury, in Herefordshire, a mere twenty minutes away.  Like many wool towns, Ledbury has a beautiful elevated Market House and many half-timbered houses that date from the Fifteenth to Seventeenth Centuries.  As we arrived, a truckload of sheep were being driven down the High street, and I made my usual joke about how nice it was that the driver was taking them for a ride.  

Our first visit was too the local library which is housed in St. Katherine’s Hospital and The Master’s House.  The hospital was founded in 1231, was used for many different purposes before being converted into a library, archive and community services hub.  It houses the John Masefield archive.

We wandered down the ancient mews and alleys, and up Church Lane, were we stopped in to a heritage museum in a former schoolhouse.  I was surprised to learn that Elizabeth Barrett-Browning spent her childhood in Ledbury.  We also laughed to see photos of sheep being driven down the high street a hundred years ago.  

We walked up to the church, which is interesting because the steeple is a separate building from the main church, but they were preparing for a funeral, so we couldn’t be tourists and be respectful at the same time, so we beat a hasty retreat.

We visited the council chambers, and saw the “Painted Room”.  The paintings have been dated to about 1530, and were the middle-class occupants’ attempt to make their main living room look like it was hung with tapestries.  We had a lovely lecture from the guide there – and then we realized that neiter of us had paid for parking the “UAV” – Kathleen’s name for the car, short for Urban Assault Vehicle.  

We decided to see the outside of Eastnor Castle, since it wasn’t open today, but we couldn’t even get into the gate, so we hemmed and hawed about what to do next.  We thought of going to the Birds of Prey Centre, or back for a walk along the Wye at Ross on Wye, and ended up coming back through country lanes to the cottage where we had cream tea.

Loading up with tea and scones at 4:00 is a bit tricky, and we couldn’t decide whether to go for a walk or go to sleep.  We elected to go for a  walk.

We went back to our bridge over the Severn and walked what had been the old tow path.  It was interesting to note that the front doors of the houses face the river, (and the now grassed-over tow path) rather than the modern road behind.  

We wondered if there waas still salt at the middle of the road from winter salting. 

I was happy to learn that the Hawbridge had been opened on September 1, 1961, my first birthday, so were named it the Margaret Hogg Commemorative Bridge.  I hope it sticks!

Our plan was to go to the Farmers’ Arms for a last pub dinner, but of course it didn’t open until 6 and we had 75 minutes to kill.  We went down a public footpath through a very old apple orchard, but a field had been sprayed at the top of the field and the path was closed.  We went down Wick Lane, where Kathleen called a cow over – and she came!

We decided that we would just go home and pack, rather than wait another half hour with nowhere to go.  In Tewkesbury we picked up a couple of meat pies, and returned home.

We have gone for an evening stroll since I started writing this – and I stopped to hear the decision of the BC teachers court case live, so now it is time for me to go and pack.  

Tomorrow we drive down to Heathrow, and I don`t know what mischief we will get up to in the afternoon.  Alanna isn’t available, so we might go to Kew Gardens, if we get the car back and checked into our hotel early enough.  We need to be up early on Saturday, so who knows?

We are both sad that are holiday has sped by so quickly, but looking forward to seeing everyone soon.