Gloucester

Hello dear friends.

It's time I write a proper entry in this blog and today's travel adventure is in an oldie town called Gloucester (a Roman/Celtic town meaning "glowing castle"). For those of you who would like to say it like the locals do, it's pronounced 'GLAH-sta'. Bearing in mind that I am a halfing- an American Briton- so I may still have my ears on wrong when it comes the Olde English pronunciation. The town was named after a Roman Emperor in 90A.D.

Gloucester was abandoned and left to ruin by King Henry VIII in the 16th century, but that didn't stop the building of a cathedral where his predecessor Edward II is buried (it was an Abbey then).

There are several sights to see here in Gloucester. The Gloucester Cathedral is just one of those (I know you're all pronouncing it correctly by now). The cathedral itself was built in 1089 A.D. and continues to hold worship to this very day! In fact on the day of my visit, the choir was practicing which makes for lovely background music whilst touring the cathedral for, ...FREE. That's right at no cost to you, you can tour this brilliant architectural structure. Inside you'll discover a crypt and many famous people buried there. Even a chap from the US! He wrote the music to America's national anthem.

If churches aren't your thing, there is still lots to do at Gloucester. You might find yourself  touring one of the many museums (Soldier, Beatrix Potter, Arts) or have a wander down to the Quays. The Quays (pronounced "keys"- this is new to me also. I have to get out more), are home to the shopping outlets. Who doesn't love to shop??

If this isn't your "cup of tea", have yourself a pint and go sit out by the Docks watching the boats come in. This time of the year people flood the streets for the Victorian Christmas Market and sell everything from soaps to mead dressed in Victorian clothes. So get out there and have yourself a good time! If there's time, hop on the Merry-go-round before you go!

Winchester

 

 Winchester Cathedral

Jane Austen is buried here in the Winchester Cathedral when she died at age 41 of causes unknown. It was not until the 1900s that her books were discovered and later became great classics for all to read.

This replica of King Authur's round table was made and painted by an artist in the 13th century and can be seen in the Great Hall of Winchester. He listed King Arthur and all his knights around this table.

Highclere Castle

What better plans on a dreary raining day than to storm a castle! Or...erhm, well, maybe go visit one nearby after politely paying admittance. Highclere Castle so close to where I live yet in the two years I've lived in Berkshire, I have only just recently visited. So many castles to storm, so little time....

The castle and grounds were the setting in season one of the world famous Downton Abbey. Eat your heart out fans. (I should really try to watch one of these episodes).

I couldn't begin to tell you how massive this house is.; only that it took better than an hour to see the parts of the castle tourists are permitted to peruse. It is a country house in Jacobeathan style with over 1,000 acres to run. (I wouldn't mind a country house like this). I gave up counting all the bedrooms...who really needs that many?!?!? That's not to say, I didn't fantasize about a fun game of hide and seek throughout the manor (too bad it was frowned upon)...but wouldn't it be cool??

HISTORY

I learned Lady Almina of the house opened up the castle to wounded British soldiers during the First World War and the bedrooms were used as rooms for those in need of hospital care.   They were carted all the way from Southampton (37 miles away) across bumpy dirt roads until they reached "Highclere Hospital" where the lady's footmen would care for the wounded soldiers. During the Second World War, the Castle briefly became a home for evacuee children from north London.


Put your camera away folks and take mental pictures, there is no photography allowed inside the castle. That I'm okay with, but how about a lovely game of hide and seek? Who's game? Some of the wardrobes in those rooms look like they could lead us to Narnia. I'm in!

Beaches, sand, castles

This adventure begins in a seaside town called Swanage. Actually the story begins a little further north in a county named Berkshire where 6 1/2 friends (the toddler counts as half) are getting ready to hit the beach (and well really only five and a half of us were really up and getting ready- and waiting on the last friend to awaken). Anyway onward with the story...

Because we left sooooo late (feeling guilty yet mate?- I've been told I'm great at guilt trips), we were stopped in traffic on the way to the south coast. This gave us the opportunity to see Stonehenge along the way. Apparently the stones to make the "henge" came all the way from Wales- BEFORE CARS, TRUCKS and LORRIES!  How did the stones get there?

Aliens! LOL

After a few more hours in the car, we made it to the seaside after driving by Corfe Castle on the way to the beach. This was built long ago (as is everything in England and destroyed in a war--like everything ELSE in England) and is now a part of the National Trust open to all for touring.

Corfe Castle sits on Purbeck Hill and overlooks the little village from where it gets it's name.

Finally hours later......

The Beach!

Swanage Beach front was beautiful on what was said to be the "hottest day of the year in the UK!"

If you ask me, 80 degree F is just about right, not a cloud in sight! It was indeed hot enough for me to get in the sea and "swim" at least until I got a mouth full of salty water! It was a great day spent with friends playing Frisbee and burying each other in the sand. But what's a trip to the beach without fish n' chips and a Mr Whippy? (For my American readers this is fried cod with fries and a vanilla twist ice cream cone). So off we went in search of both having found a nice restaurant overlooking the shore. Exhausted, sun baked and dehydrated, we ordered food and drinks. Not a minute later my mate accidentally spills beer all over the baby (and the table). Should have stuck with water dude.

Climbin' a mountain

Who's up for a 4 hour car trip?? ME! That's who. In memory of my very best friend and former mountain climbing partner, I hiked mount Snowdon found in Snowdonia National Park, North Wales.

I stayed at a lovely, quiet place ~Oakfield House B&B late Friday night and was met by a friendly, smiling face. Across the road was a babbling brook which helped me fall asleep listening to the sounds of nature. In the morning, I shoveled in all the breakfast I could (full cooked AND cold buffet) to power up for the rest of the day's climbing activity. Oakfield House B&B review by Vawn

This B&B was only a mile from the beautiful Swallow Falls.Which I trekked up to, to start my glorious sun filled adventure. There is a fee of £1.00 to walk down to the bottom of the falls but it's well worth it! Plenty of parking across the road at the Swallow Falls Hotel and gift shop. (Fee is P&D for parking)

Onward to the mountain climb! Then, what is meant to be a 15 minute car ride to Snowdon (awkwardly more if you don't listen to your navigator - but enough said on that) turns out to be more like a 45 minute trek through the other parts of Snowdonia National Park.



The Majestic Peak of Snowdon reaches 3,560 feet high and is part of the Three Peak Challenge of the UK (I have two more to conquer it would seem). I travelled the Llanberis Path which is about nine miles. It's the longest and takes about six hours to hike up & down. Half way up the mountain a storm front moved in and I was engulfed by the clouds. Which had a very cool yet, very eerie feeling to it. Lots of folks get lost in the fog I was told, but I persevered and made it to the top!

Going down, now that's a different story! The mountain holds many trails to trek. The famous Miner's Trail (as you've probably guessed it) was the route the miner's took out of the mountain. Because of the dense fog, a stone was erected to show the miner's which trail would get them home.

Nine miles of treacherous rock climbing, I made it to back to the beginning where all good adventures start. Now I'm off in search of the next mountain to master!

Rugby

Two 40 minute sessions watching men tackle one another is enough for me.  My father played Rugby when he was a younger man and I, having been in England for so long, figured it was time to see what all the fuss was about.

My first game was the London Irish v. Worcester Warriors --Score 26-6 poor defeated Warriors. Anyway, it might as well have been the coldest, snowiest Rugby game of the season as well, which didn't help me enjoy it any more.

We arrrived at the stadium for the pre-party in the car park with a band stand (a proper one; not those rinky dinky little ones you find in parks the English call bandstands--those are gazebos people) and a live band. Surrounding us were plenty of food vendors all serving fish and chips or burgers. Why do we need 5 of the same burger vendors?!?!? Carrying on....

I'm not sure if this occurs at all the Rugby matches or just because this one happened to be near St Paddy's day, but there was quite the atmosphere in the car park. In American football (I'm going to use this game to reference a lot during Rugby), people "tail gate" before a game in the parking lot. So I'm wondering if this is the "English" version.

In to the stadium, the game starts. I can't explain the rules, but here is what I did learn. If you have the ball (which is shaped almost like a football), you're going to get tackled or beaten or both until you give it up. I don't see how there aren't more penalties in this game.....(*note: a penalty kick is worth 3 points--see, I did learn something). If you run the ball into the "end zone" you earn your team 5 points and another 2 points if you kick a "field goal".

Always be alert during this game, because unlike American football there are no nets between the field and the spectators and at any time the ball could come diving your way, so head's up! Sorta like baseball (but even that has a back drop behind the catcher). Regardless, I did it. I saw a Rugby match. I can now check it off my list and move on with my life. The mascot was fun, I think it was an Irish Wolfhound <3

PS. Dad, what were you thinking!?!?!?!

Falconry & Archery!

An entire day in wondrous Oxfordshire. We spent the morning at the falconry fields learning about birds of prey. After a 45 minute break for lunch,

(*Tip: pack your own lunch or pay ₤6.50 for a sandwich, drink and packet of crisps- the pub down the road has been closed since 2012. There are NO hot lunches here. The hotel on the grounds serves a wonderful cream tea, but this must be booked in advance [or stolen from the couple sitting across from you]). 

we then headed to the range for some target practice with the bows. Whilst none of us proved to be modern day Robin Hoods, we upheld the decree of English Law stating that, every English citizen is meant to practice daily with their own bow. Oh how times have changed. In the US they're taking away their countryman's weapons, and in the UK it's illegal NOT TO practice daily with your weapons. HA!

Here's something else I learned at the archery range: Medieval archers always aimed for the war horses, because they weren't as heavily armoured and the knight that fell from the downed horse could then be ransomed. Archery was about gaining money for a campaign. 

Also learned, was the term butts, go ahead have yourself a little giggle then come back to the circle of adults....

Butts are giant targets (comments to yourself please) used to shoot at and-- right here in the ol' town centre of St Mary's did they practice! Try that today during market time ;-) So this is how St Mary's Butts came to be in Reading.

https://www.milletsfarmfalconry.co.uk/

The birds of prey were most exciting!! This facility rescues birds from all over the world. Boo is a Cara Cara bird from the Americas. She does tricks like playing the shell game and also picks pockets (watch your money around this bird!) 

Other birds of prey consist of hawks, buzzards and Owls. It is here I learned that it is difficult to determine what bird is what whilst flying. Some hawks are actively mistaken for common buzzards. So I guess it's only fair I stop taking the mickey out of my mum for declaring she saw a hawk in the sky when it was actually a turkey vulture (buzzard). I also learned that hawks signal to their mates using their tails and that owl's eyes take up 1/3 of the space in their head. Carry on with the wise@ss comments now. I give thee permission. I even set it up for you ;-P

I highly recommend Fallowfields Falconry for a day out. It's sure to be a Hoot!

*2020 update: Fallowsfield is now known as Millets Farm

Cardiff, Wales

Wales for a second time and already a better trip. Perhaps it's the company, having spent time with my cousin and a few friends. The drive to visit my cousin in Wales was approximatley two hours and 15 mins which is about how long it used to take to visit her on the farm in good ol' PeeA!

 We booked in at the St. Mellon's Hotel & Spa in Castleton just ten minutes outside Cardiff where my cousin was staying. This place was cool. Verra posh table settings for breakfast and we even got to use the Spa. It has a pool, hot tub, steam room and sauna room (I'll let you guys sort out which is which).

 We toured Cardiff Castle (Normans Keep). Took silly pictures at The Animal Wall. Strolled through the nearby park which had a circle of stones- like a baby Stonehenge :)

We met my cousin for dinner at The Crispy Duck- a Cantonese resturant--- VERY GOOD! And chatted away. The next day we toured Llandaff Cathedral  which stands on one of the oldest Christian sites in Britain, with the present building dating back to 1107!!!

 http://www.nicholsonorgans.co.uk/portfolio/llandaff-cathedral-cardiff/ 

We then drove to Cardiff Bay to see Mermaid Quay (pronounced "key") but you feel free to run around calling it "kuway" like I did just to be an annoying tourist. The key has lots to offer from concerts to shopping, dining to boat quay tours, even a wetlands trail to admire wildlife. So get out there and explore or as they say in Wales, "Ewch yn anturus!"

 

New Forest

Three hours spent in a car, I think, this trip better be worth it. I'm excited because I'm going to see the New Forest and I'm at home in the trees. This particular patch of woods is supposed to be peppered with ponies!

We drive to Lyndhurst, New Forest and stop at the information station hopping to get a trail map. Having to pay 80p to park a car for five minutes - in my book is a rip- off- but I suppose the parking ticket would be more costly and they are heavily patrolled; this bit reminds me of Jim Thorpe (for all my Pennsylvanian followers).

We stroll into the visitor centre. Maps cost ₤2.50. Here's where you get some cheeky, free advice. Take a picture of the map with your camera or phone (whatever you kids are using these days) then the map becomes free of charge and you've just helped save another tree! PS. Do be discreet during this process, you don't want to get thrown out of the information centre before you've even started your trip.

So back to the car, map in hand with a general direction of a trail we want to hike, but what kind of adventure would it be without first getting a wee bit lost? We leave town with a compass and head in the northern direction of the trail we want. However we are going south (says the co-pilot = me). I believe I also announced that a compass only works with a  map which I don't have currently. So I would kindly like to point out at this time that it is NOT my fault we are "misdirected". Once I seize control of the map, we redirect ourselves happy as larks toward the trail head (I use this term loosely- as there are no obvious starting points on any trail that I've been on so far in England) in hopes to find the pond we set out to explore.

[Side note: We never find "the pond". We find THE SWAMP but no "pond". Never mind I'm getting ahead of my story].

I would also like to suggest when you find a map for use; do make sure it has a scale on it- else your traipsing off to some God forsaken pond 18 miles away- clueless how long this little voyage will take.

Some where between a village called Emery Down and Stoney Cross we come to a dead end. Again, not my fault, I did warn the driver the road ends at a major highway allowing left turns only with no way across it except to hop the guard rails. No worries mate! We'll park at the picnic spot up the road a ways and wander.

Oh boy, Could we??!?

We park the car in a car park (if you're English) parking lot if not. I've been gracious in my description of the "car park" which is basically a patch of dirt under some trees. My mate hops out of the car eager to start this misadventure whilst digging around in the boot of his car (trunk for those not English) for his hiking boots. HA! Boots in the boot. Oh come, let me have that one, it might be the only brilliant pun in this joke.

Before me in the car all I see is mud and I refuse to get out. *Long sigh* Pull it together. This will be fun!
"Okay, all mighty hiker, which direction?", asks I.
 My friend, noting my sarcasm, points in the direction straight ahead.

"But there are no trees for miiiiiiiiles", I whine.
He just shakes his head and walks off. What kind of forest is New Forest?!?  So now we're stomping around in a muddy field set off to find this "pond". Keep in mind mud is slippery and we're moving downhill across a field to the trees. No worries here- no slip ups. I have managed with my banged up knees to reach the forest with no mud on me and without eating it!!!

Downed leaves cover the floor (again, if you're English; ground if not) and you can't see exactly what you're walking on until you begin to sink. And sink you will because this particular part of the forest is a S-W-A-M-P-! But I'm a clever bird and have discovered the careful use of downed tree branches thrown in lines to make a "bridge" of logs to hop across the swampy mess.This is an old forest and it's full of old trees. I find a giant tree some 500 years+ old and climb into one of its lower branches perched like the Cheshire cat. I am now watching a six year old (who I thought was a 36 year old) play in the miry trenches whilst throwing sticks and rocks into the stream flowing by. This is where I learned to play Pooh Stix (a game for explaining at another time. As this blog has already droned on...Oh, you're still here? Good. Thanks for tagging along).

But the boy is done with this part of the forest and wants to continue exploring the rest of the bog. Grrr...so back to the log laying bridges. At this point I notice the ferns even gave up growing in the marshy ground and have taken to growing high above tree branches.

 I make the executive decision to leave the bog and head toward the road. Only we have to jump a fence to get to the less squishy side and on the other side of the fence is our friend..Mr Briar Patch. I'm sure you're all familiar with him. He was less than hospitable. I'm now muddy and bleeding. Such fun!

We cross the road and get to the other side (now I know why the chicken did it... to avoid mud and sticker bushes!!) We sit and have a nice picnic lunch in a forest (not a swamp) but it's getting cold and the sun is beginning to set. The vote is to head back to the car and declare this wee grand adventure over. But wait there are two votes, one to take the noisy (but safe) road back to the car park and one to follow the ponies (who are actually in town because I haven't seen one damn pony in the forest/swamp all day--now who's smarter??!). So we follow the "pony trail" up the hill to the car park. Only the pony trail is pony mucky muck and I now have mud sludge inside my sneakers and up to my thigh. I'm tired, cold and muddy. There's more mud on my jeans than I actually weigh at this point. And O, I'm having fun. Right. There are no words to explain my ferocity. This trip is officially over, I take the lead and head back to the car with both pant legs rolled up clear to my knees to avoid more mud on my jeans, and the soft, wet squish with every placement of my foot from my trainers heard. I spoke not a word to my friend but got back in the car; took my nice new -now brown - walking shoes off and discovered my white sport socks are the new colour clay. I've heard that a mud mask is good for your complexion, but what about your feet??
Until next time, 
Miss Susie Sunshine

Windsor

Family trip to Windsor (more to come this is just a taster)

We visit St. George’s cathedral--utterly massive-- and poke around watching all the “tourists” with those silly little headphones on (you know what I’m talking about if you’ve even been through a tour in an English museum or such). We wander through the church looking at all the buried dead dudes until we come to the front of the cathedral where there are tall book stands neatly arranged in a row. To which my cousin points and says, “Is that where the orchestra sits?”

“Do you perhaps mean the choir?” I correct.

She giggles. I laugh hysterically in an otherwise quiet church shaking uncontrollably because

A) she’s 20-something and she’s just referred to the church choir as an Orchestra
B) I can’t help laughing out loud because I know we’re are supposed to be quiet (the tour guide gives me a stern look of disapproval) and it makes me want to laugh even more (tears are pouring out of my eyes from laughing so hard)
C) I have a memory of my mother telling my father she wants to see the Nutcracker “Opera”--to this day we still do not let her live that one down!

Apparently this sort of mix up is hereditary. We carry on. Me with my short attention span and my cousin with her attraction to the sun, decide we had enough of a musty old cathedral and find the nearest exit, but not before getting a wee bit lost in the church (to which we have become infamous for these days--don’t ask about the pub in London. That’s a story for another time). We manage to find the “outside” and it’s a lovely sunny day  (which doesn’t happen often in England) so we use the rest of the afternoon to dawdle around the castle and see the architecture.