The Farm - First Visit
The location of the farm is a sure candidate for a ‘in the middle of nowhere’ award! Of course before we planned the trip I went to a conventional real world atlas (paper-based) which was a leftover from my school days, to see where we were headed - no luck – wrong scale. I then entered the gadget world and asked John Cleese. who resides as our TomTom as navigation voice where the farm was.
About 300.000 analysed streets and approx. 980 km later I landed about 2 km east of Crymych, half way up a Preseli mountain. To confirm the result, I entered the virtual world of Goggle and landed in another field half way up another Preseli mountain but that was good enough for me. These days you have to be flexible in what mountain it is and what constitutes half way up or for that matter down. Fine turning would have to wait until we got into the area.
For this visit we planned two weeks. Due to the distance of a 1000 km we decided to do the journey in two laps with a two day overstay in Kent.
The first 500 km via the Eurotunnel took about five hours and touched four countries. When we have driven over in the past, we usually took the boat between Dover and Calais. It gives one the chance of a break for breakfast and to wake up the legs with a walk-about. Seeing the cliffs looming up is away a good sign that we are back.
Before that we used the hovercraft between Dover to Boulogne which allowed one to fly over the southern tip of the Goodwin Sands a 10-mile-long (16 km) sandbank at the southern end of the North Sea lying 6 miles (10 km) off the Deal coast.
Ferries had to go round the sandbank and took 90 mins, whereas the hovercraft took only 35 mins. It was possible with a hovercraft to visit the Sands for a day trip.
In the last few years we have used the Eurotunnel between Folkestone and Coquelles. Although it’s expensive, it’s so much quicker and also driving on to a train is easier than onto a boat. The wait is usually under 20 minutes at either end and you’re over, that is under in about 25 minutes. You can get out of the car but it’s not worth it – there’s nowhere to go and nothing to see! (See the Eurotunnel post)
If due to boredom you do happen to peer out of the window for any length of time the lights passing have a somewhat hypnotic effect, which if you are not careful brings back suppressed images of glowing eyes and enormous thumbs and .. (See the Crossing the English Channel post)
Each carriage holds four to five vehicles and you are sealed off by fire proof doors. On both sides there are raised walk-a-ways / gangplanks and at each end heavy hydraulic doors which allows you to - but don’t really entice – movement between compartments/carriages. The first time we used the train I wandered around. The hydraulic doors were dam hard to open between wagons and so I stayed in the car for the duration.
It’s a gentle ride, and a self-induced nap attack is all you get time for. There is a solitary channel tunnel radio station which starts off in the local language and changes to the other with a bout of static halfway under the Channel. There are no real signs of white cliffs when leaving the train and by the time you reach the motorway you realise you won’t see them.
It’s uncanny what a something odd mile wide, and I don’t know how many feet high, off-white backdrop can have on one. Anyway if I don’t see them coming, then I must at least get a chance on the return even if it means a detour before driving to the terminal.
Cranbrook
We had a two day stay in Cranbrook, as it was a good place for outings in the area. We stayed at The George, which goes back quite away having played host to King Edward I in 1299 and for Elizabeth I who stayed there in 1573 during a progress through Kent.
For over three hundred years until 1859, a magistrate's court was held in an upper room of the inn. Here, witches and warlocks were examined by local inquisitors before being committed for trial, and probable death by burning, at Maidstone.
Our 1st. floor room was quite large but it gave you the feeling of a crazy house like at a fairground. Walking across the room gave the distinct impression of going up or down hill.
A typical characteristic that we have seen and felt in other old residences we have stayed in over the years. The shower in the bathroom reminds me of an incident in another Hotel (see Elizabethan Shower post)
H wanted to see some gardens on this trip over. A return to Sissinghurst (see Sissinhurst post) was on the list. The last time was in May 2004 to see them in spring and now the year in the summer months. Also on the list was a first time to Great Dixter (see Great Dixter post),
Crymych
After our stay in the area we were off towards “The Valleys”. One thing I noticed about Wales since I was here last is that all signs are in English and Welsh, even the road markings, nice, can’t read them but nice.
Wonder what the statistics are for run down foreign tourists standing in the middle of the road thumbing through a phrase book looking up well-worn Welsh wording on the tarmac.
[Ed: tarmacio in Welsh.]
Didn't ask, but thank you!
The on board navi got us as far as the middle of Crymych village and the mentioned ‘field/mountain’ location was not far away. The roads until then were not too bad, a little lacking in width but there was enough space to pass a car coming in the other direction if you tolerated trimming the grass with the side of ones car. Within 100 meters after moving off the main road, we were down to 1½ car widths, a stony lane, and were literally as well as metaphorically hedged in.
I was on panic standby at this point, button at the ready. Why the panic button you may ask? And even if you don’t ask I’m going to tell you anyway.
I have great difficulty with forward-oriented retro-movement space management. In other words I hate having to reverse the car. I panic and either freeze or have tantrums. Both pathetic and fascinating to behold especially in combination, but there it is.
After about ½mile of ‘hedging’ our way forward, we were on a narrow lane with a gravel surface and down to one car width!
I decided to activate the panic button. No way was I going to back up now and plan B (H taking over) was no option as we couldn't get out of the car to swap places! We finally came to K's first gate with the warning to ‘shut after entering due to roaming animals’ unfortunately species were not specified.
H had just enough space to exit the car, open the gate and pilot me through. She heeded the warning and like any good 'country folk' promptly closed the gate, which she promptly opened again as she was on the wrong side of it. After promptly opening it again and moving to the correct side of the gate, she promptly closed
it again and promptly returned to the car not interested in any roaming animal contact without protective clothing, appropriate footwear and a big stick. K had mentioned up front that the horses, dogs, cats, sheep and even the bats all in various sizes and shapes, were of course 'very friendly'. I have no problem with animals, but H was, to put it mildly, slightly apprehensive.
The road turned into a rocky track that was causing havoc with the suspension. Eventually it widened and K's second gate appeared held upright with string. This turned out to be one of the chores on the list of to-do's during our visit. It was correctly mounted before we left (my 1st. DIY 5 bar gate!). We were now getting into the swing of things with gate opening and closing, and as there was space we both jumped out and got to work untying the string when two middle sized Dobermans came bounding and barking towards us across the yard from the house.
For H this was too much dog all in one go and with the additional doggy points for Dobermans, she made a quick retreat back to the car. I carried on with opening the gate and greeted the dogs. H stayed coped up in the car and it took quite a while after driving up to the house to coax her out into the open.
P was sitting outside the house as we approched, we literally didn’t recognise her! I hadn’t seen her since the funeral of my mother in 2002 and there was nothing in her letters indicating that she was ill. We found out that she was suffering from Parkinson’s disease and confined most of the time to a wheelchair. She was always a lively and energetic person and with this untypical progression of the disease was quite rightly depressed with the whole thing.
They both had plans for the farm which they took over a year before and now not only was K going to work and looking after the farm, but also having to look after her mother as well. We could see that she was not doing well when we were there, although she put on a brave show for H and me.
The dogs were as expected 'friendly' and H warmed up to them pretty quick after the initial tail wagging and licking. The dogs H, not the other way round.. The cats were no problem; they kept themselves to themselves and showed themselves only at meal times. The horses on the right, now that’s different, even I was a bit hesitant when 16½ hands of equine quadrupeds looked down at me, respect, respect, of course very friendly.
Well sometimes too friendly. Her name is Rosie, we nicknamed her ’nosey Rosie’ as she put her nose quite literally into anything she can get her... - I was going to say hands.. – nose into, no inhabitations what so ever. K said she grew up with lots of kids, well it seems to have rubbed off as she gets up to enough mischief. Most of K’s ‘pets’ are ‘rescue’ animals, either mishandled or given up for various other reasons.
I even caught Rosie in the kitchen helping herself to the cat food! Not the first time I hear. Getting her out wasn’t easy, it was not that she didn’t want to, but she was sliding about as on ice. Horseshoes and kitchen tiles are not an ideal combination and in a restricted area can be dangerous, she just kept cool and wandered out under her own steam.
Once I observed K filling a bucket from a hosepipe, she turned her back for just a moment and Rosie who was standing around close by, pushed the bucket over and immediately turned her back on K as if to say it wasn’t me!
One morning she came up and shoved her head under my arm with her nose in my left armpit! I had no idea what to make of this. I just stood there inert looking directly into an enormous brown unblinking eye. After a moment she pulled her head back out, looked at me as if to say what are you waiting for and rammed it back in again! This time I reacted intuitively by scratching her behind the ears, as with a dog. This was exactly what she wanted!
This went on for about five minutes, she then broke lose and wandered off. This was a formality repeated daily until we left.
Jaz is the other pony on the farm (see right). Because of getting her leg tangled up in a wire fence she has 'stable arrest' until it got better.
Shakespeare on a Welsh Mountain
One evening we experienced an open air performance of the Bards 'Much Ado About Nothing'. What I would call a typical British event. We were kitted out with a picnic box, deckchairs, lots of blankets and plenty of plonk.
It was sweltering when we left the farm and I was wondering about the blankets. I was informed that as soon as the sun goes down is gets quite nippy half way up a bare Welsh mountain. As you can see from the picture we had blue skies, but as predicted the temperature plummeted as soon as the sun disappeared into the Irish Sea.
Cenarth River Festival
On the weekend there was the Cenarth River Festival. The Cenarth Falls is a cascade of waterfalls just upstream of the road bridge in the village of Cenarth in Ceredigion, bordering Carmarthenshire and Pembrokeshire.
We took the opportunity to have a day out at the falls. As P was wheelchair bound we could put the wheelchair in the back of the car and P in the front seat.
The weather was ideal, maybe a little hot, but there was plenty of shade when needed. The program had Morris Dancing with the English type costumes and the multi-coloured strips of a local group called the Carreg-las Morris Dancers.
Also there was a group in tradional period custumes of the American civil war showing what was danced at that time.
There seems to be a tradition of river dipping at the featival due to the river being close by. A welcome cool off for children and adults alike. Also a spectator sport by the look of it from the picture here.
P enjoyed herself with the chance to get out and away from the farm for a while.
Preseli Mountains
The farm, as mentioned, is at the eastern end of the Preseli Mountains. The area being quite magical; this is Bluestone country, the area where the stones for the inner circle of Stonehenge were mined. The landscape is crisscrossed with ley lines, ancient track ways, standing stones, burial chambers and stone circles.
I have always been interested in such things and now I have family plumb in the middle of such an area! If you look at a satellite map you see the typical English – in this case Welsh – rural landscape, a patchwork of fields of different shapes and sizes, bordered with your typical hedgerow and windy lanes.
And there thrown in as an afterthought, a moor like landscape where spectral hounds are at home and famous detectives could camp under cromlech’s, observing the singular nocturnal behaviour of various coloured sheep sprayed with what looks like megalithic graffiti. At first totally out of place, but after a time wandering about in the area, the two complement each other with fields of hay here and ‘fields’ of heather there.
We went for a walk looking for Arthur’s something or other (most places like this have so called connections with King Arthur) it was further than we thought and so turned back. There was plenty of stone lying around, what you see in the top picture are, I think, remnants of the bluestone quarries.
The white inclusions are white crystal quartz. I’m no geologist but it looked more grey/green than blue and although it’s not allowed, my pocket was a lot heaver on returning to the car (purely for defence against megalithic sheep). We could see the farm from where we were and the fields behind going half way up the mountain (see middle picture).
The geological name for Preseli Bluestone is Dolerite which is an intrusive volcanic rock of plagioclase feldspar and as it’s in fact harder than granite. Only the locals are allowed to “work the stone”, pieces are cut, polished and sold as pendants and other “hangables” in the village shops.
(See Celtic jewellery post for my own work with the stone)
As there is a well known megalithic site called the Pentre Ifan Burial Chamber not too far away from the farm we took the opportunity to spent some time there.
On the morning we left I visited P in her bedroom. It had been a long time since we had seen each other and since we were there we hadn't really time to talk together. We chatted awhile about many things, including my mother/her sister. K said she had perked up while we were there and had looked forward to our visit. If I had known of her illness I would have tried to have come earlier. The stay was oh too short. And it was difficult to break away but we had to leave to get back to Kent and stay there for a few days before starting the last leg back home.
The way back was uneventful apart from one thing. We expected to pay for the use of the road bridge into Wales, what I didn’t realise was that leaving you don’t. And so on the way back H had the money ready to throw at someone, but after crossing the bridge - no barriers, nothing! It took a while, I think we were in the near of Bristol, before the penny dropped (back into the pocket)..
Sedlescombe
Our hotel was the Brick Wall in Sedlescombe a building with Elizabethan inlay and an Italian owner. The ambient and food was very good, we took the plunge and tried a ‘local’ wine much to our disappointment. The village could have been a clone of St. Mary Mead.
On the morning after our arrival I rang K to say that we had arrived safely. I was surprised to hear another female voice other than K’s answer the phone, it turned out to be the police! Before I could take this in, K was on the phone and said that her mother had died peacefully in the night. The police were there for the formalities. We exchanged a few words and promised to make contact later that day.
After talking to K later, we both came to the conclusion that she had held on till we had left and then let go. There was no chance of driving back to the farm as we had a train to catch the next day. For the rest of the holiday our mood was naturally subdued.
Battle
We went into Battle (literally), doing the typical TenSixtySix tourist walk around ‘The Field’ and the Abbey buildings with location orientated audio accompaniment which was quite interesting and well done. The Field was just that, a field, where the battle took place and nothing could be seen.
[Ed: Harold Rex Interfectus Est "King Harold is killed". Scene from the Bayeux Tapestry depicting the Battle of Hastings and the death of Harold.]
The Battle of Hastings was fought on 14 October 1066 between the Norman-French army of William, Duke of Normandy, and an English army under the Anglo-Saxon king Harold Godwinson, beginning the Norman Conquest of England.
The town of Battle grew around an abbey, which was constructed on the orders of King William to commemorate the battle and atone for the resulting slaughter. The Abbey is known as Battle Abbey, and was dedicated to St Martin, sometimes known as the "Apostle of the Gauls".
The abbey was founded to commemorate the battle, and dedicated in 1095. Construction was initiated by a small group of monks from Marmoutier, France. The high altar of the abbey church was reputedly sited on the spot where Harold died.
The train from Folkestone was in the afternoon of the next day so we had time to fill up the car with Yorkshire tea, rich tea biscuits, piccalilli pickles and processed peas. Fortunately the car is a lift back which means lots of space for lots of tea. The train and rest of the journey were ‘straight’ forward with very little backing up.
I remember P mentioning in one of her letters that they regularly sat outside the cottage drinking wine, watching the sun set over the Irish Sea.
Looking at the map, I could hardly believe this with the distance involved. But we were pleasantly proven wrong and could join them in this enjoyable habit. She also mentioned that on a very clear day from the top (not half way up) of their mountain, you could see the Emerald Isle itself I'll be tellen yer. How much blarney that was, will have to be tested on our return, with a good pair of binoculars and clear weather..
Pat had always signed her letters ‘your mad aunt’ and as her mad nephew this meant we got on ever so well don’t you know..
About 300.000 analysed streets and approx. 980 km later I landed about 2 km east of Crymych, half way up a Preseli mountain. To confirm the result, I entered the virtual world of Goggle and landed in another field half way up another Preseli mountain but that was good enough for me. These days you have to be flexible in what mountain it is and what constitutes half way up or for that matter down. Fine turning would have to wait until we got into the area.
For this visit we planned two weeks. Due to the distance of a 1000 km we decided to do the journey in two laps with a two day overstay in Kent.The first 500 km via the Eurotunnel took about five hours and touched four countries. When we have driven over in the past, we usually took the boat between Dover and Calais. It gives one the chance of a break for breakfast and to wake up the legs with a walk-about. Seeing the cliffs looming up is away a good sign that we are back.
Before that we used the hovercraft between Dover to Boulogne which allowed one to fly over the southern tip of the Goodwin Sands a 10-mile-long (16 km) sandbank at the southern end of the North Sea lying 6 miles (10 km) off the Deal coast.Ferries had to go round the sandbank and took 90 mins, whereas the hovercraft took only 35 mins. It was possible with a hovercraft to visit the Sands for a day trip.
In the last few years we have used the Eurotunnel between Folkestone and Coquelles. Although it’s expensive, it’s so much quicker and also driving on to a train is easier than onto a boat. The wait is usually under 20 minutes at either end and you’re over, that is under in about 25 minutes. You can get out of the car but it’s not worth it – there’s nowhere to go and nothing to see! (See the Eurotunnel post)
If due to boredom you do happen to peer out of the window for any length of time the lights passing have a somewhat hypnotic effect, which if you are not careful brings back suppressed images of glowing eyes and enormous thumbs and .. (See the Crossing the English Channel post)
Each carriage holds four to five vehicles and you are sealed off by fire proof doors. On both sides there are raised walk-a-ways / gangplanks and at each end heavy hydraulic doors which allows you to - but don’t really entice – movement between compartments/carriages. The first time we used the train I wandered around. The hydraulic doors were dam hard to open between wagons and so I stayed in the car for the duration.
It’s a gentle ride, and a self-induced nap attack is all you get time for. There is a solitary channel tunnel radio station which starts off in the local language and changes to the other with a bout of static halfway under the Channel. There are no real signs of white cliffs when leaving the train and by the time you reach the motorway you realise you won’t see them.
It’s uncanny what a something odd mile wide, and I don’t know how many feet high, off-white backdrop can have on one. Anyway if I don’t see them coming, then I must at least get a chance on the return even if it means a detour before driving to the terminal.
Cranbrook
We had a two day stay in Cranbrook, as it was a good place for outings in the area. We stayed at The George, which goes back quite away having played host to King Edward I in 1299 and for Elizabeth I who stayed there in 1573 during a progress through Kent. For over three hundred years until 1859, a magistrate's court was held in an upper room of the inn. Here, witches and warlocks were examined by local inquisitors before being committed for trial, and probable death by burning, at Maidstone.
Our 1st. floor room was quite large but it gave you the feeling of a crazy house like at a fairground. Walking across the room gave the distinct impression of going up or down hill.
A typical characteristic that we have seen and felt in other old residences we have stayed in over the years. The shower in the bathroom reminds me of an incident in another Hotel (see Elizabethan Shower post)
H wanted to see some gardens on this trip over. A return to Sissinghurst (see Sissinhurst post) was on the list. The last time was in May 2004 to see them in spring and now the year in the summer months. Also on the list was a first time to Great Dixter (see Great Dixter post),
Crymych
After our stay in the area we were off towards “The Valleys”. One thing I noticed about Wales since I was here last is that all signs are in English and Welsh, even the road markings, nice, can’t read them but nice. Wonder what the statistics are for run down foreign tourists standing in the middle of the road thumbing through a phrase book looking up well-worn Welsh wording on the tarmac.
[Ed: tarmacio in Welsh.]
Didn't ask, but thank you!
The on board navi got us as far as the middle of Crymych village and the mentioned ‘field/mountain’ location was not far away. The roads until then were not too bad, a little lacking in width but there was enough space to pass a car coming in the other direction if you tolerated trimming the grass with the side of ones car. Within 100 meters after moving off the main road, we were down to 1½ car widths, a stony lane, and were literally as well as metaphorically hedged in.
I was on panic standby at this point, button at the ready. Why the panic button you may ask? And even if you don’t ask I’m going to tell you anyway.I have great difficulty with forward-oriented retro-movement space management. In other words I hate having to reverse the car. I panic and either freeze or have tantrums. Both pathetic and fascinating to behold especially in combination, but there it is.
After about ½mile of ‘hedging’ our way forward, we were on a narrow lane with a gravel surface and down to one car width! I decided to activate the panic button. No way was I going to back up now and plan B (H taking over) was no option as we couldn't get out of the car to swap places! We finally came to K's first gate with the warning to ‘shut after entering due to roaming animals’ unfortunately species were not specified.
H had just enough space to exit the car, open the gate and pilot me through. She heeded the warning and like any good 'country folk' promptly closed the gate, which she promptly opened again as she was on the wrong side of it. After promptly opening it again and moving to the correct side of the gate, she promptly closed
it again and promptly returned to the car not interested in any roaming animal contact without protective clothing, appropriate footwear and a big stick. K had mentioned up front that the horses, dogs, cats, sheep and even the bats all in various sizes and shapes, were of course 'very friendly'. I have no problem with animals, but H was, to put it mildly, slightly apprehensive.The road turned into a rocky track that was causing havoc with the suspension. Eventually it widened and K's second gate appeared held upright with string. This turned out to be one of the chores on the list of to-do's during our visit. It was correctly mounted before we left (my 1st. DIY 5 bar gate!). We were now getting into the swing of things with gate opening and closing, and as there was space we both jumped out and got to work untying the string when two middle sized Dobermans came bounding and barking towards us across the yard from the house.
For H this was too much dog all in one go and with the additional doggy points for Dobermans, she made a quick retreat back to the car. I carried on with opening the gate and greeted the dogs. H stayed coped up in the car and it took quite a while after driving up to the house to coax her out into the open.
P was sitting outside the house as we approched, we literally didn’t recognise her! I hadn’t seen her since the funeral of my mother in 2002 and there was nothing in her letters indicating that she was ill. We found out that she was suffering from Parkinson’s disease and confined most of the time to a wheelchair. She was always a lively and energetic person and with this untypical progression of the disease was quite rightly depressed with the whole thing.
They both had plans for the farm which they took over a year before and now not only was K going to work and looking after the farm, but also having to look after her mother as well. We could see that she was not doing well when we were there, although she put on a brave show for H and me.
The dogs were as expected 'friendly' and H warmed up to them pretty quick after the initial tail wagging and licking. The dogs H, not the other way round.. The cats were no problem; they kept themselves to themselves and showed themselves only at meal times. The horses on the right, now that’s different, even I was a bit hesitant when 16½ hands of equine quadrupeds looked down at me, respect, respect, of course very friendly.Well sometimes too friendly. Her name is Rosie, we nicknamed her ’nosey Rosie’ as she put her nose quite literally into anything she can get her... - I was going to say hands.. – nose into, no inhabitations what so ever. K said she grew up with lots of kids, well it seems to have rubbed off as she gets up to enough mischief. Most of K’s ‘pets’ are ‘rescue’ animals, either mishandled or given up for various other reasons.
I even caught Rosie in the kitchen helping herself to the cat food! Not the first time I hear. Getting her out wasn’t easy, it was not that she didn’t want to, but she was sliding about as on ice. Horseshoes and kitchen tiles are not an ideal combination and in a restricted area can be dangerous, she just kept cool and wandered out under her own steam.Once I observed K filling a bucket from a hosepipe, she turned her back for just a moment and Rosie who was standing around close by, pushed the bucket over and immediately turned her back on K as if to say it wasn’t me!
One morning she came up and shoved her head under my arm with her nose in my left armpit! I had no idea what to make of this. I just stood there inert looking directly into an enormous brown unblinking eye. After a moment she pulled her head back out, looked at me as if to say what are you waiting for and rammed it back in again! This time I reacted intuitively by scratching her behind the ears, as with a dog. This was exactly what she wanted!
This went on for about five minutes, she then broke lose and wandered off. This was a formality repeated daily until we left.Jaz is the other pony on the farm (see right). Because of getting her leg tangled up in a wire fence she has 'stable arrest' until it got better.
Shakespeare on a Welsh Mountain
One evening we experienced an open air performance of the Bards 'Much Ado About Nothing'. What I would call a typical British event. We were kitted out with a picnic box, deckchairs, lots of blankets and plenty of plonk. 
It was sweltering when we left the farm and I was wondering about the blankets. I was informed that as soon as the sun goes down is gets quite nippy half way up a bare Welsh mountain. As you can see from the picture we had blue skies, but as predicted the temperature plummeted as soon as the sun disappeared into the Irish Sea.
Cenarth River FestivalOn the weekend there was the Cenarth River Festival. The Cenarth Falls is a cascade of waterfalls just upstream of the road bridge in the village of Cenarth in Ceredigion, bordering Carmarthenshire and Pembrokeshire.
We took the opportunity to have a day out at the falls. As P was wheelchair bound we could put the wheelchair in the back of the car and P in the front seat.
The weather was ideal, maybe a little hot, but there was plenty of shade when needed. The program had Morris Dancing with the English type costumes and the multi-coloured strips of a local group called the Carreg-las Morris Dancers.
Also there was a group in tradional period custumes of the American civil war showing what was danced at that time.
There seems to be a tradition of river dipping at the featival due to the river being close by. A welcome cool off for children and adults alike. Also a spectator sport by the look of it from the picture here.
P enjoyed herself with the chance to get out and away from the farm for a while.
Preseli Mountains
The farm, as mentioned, is at the eastern end of the Preseli Mountains. The area being quite magical; this is Bluestone country, the area where the stones for the inner circle of Stonehenge were mined. The landscape is crisscrossed with ley lines, ancient track ways, standing stones, burial chambers and stone circles.
I have always been interested in such things and now I have family plumb in the middle of such an area! If you look at a satellite map you see the typical English – in this case Welsh – rural landscape, a patchwork of fields of different shapes and sizes, bordered with your typical hedgerow and windy lanes.And there thrown in as an afterthought, a moor like landscape where spectral hounds are at home and famous detectives could camp under cromlech’s, observing the singular nocturnal behaviour of various coloured sheep sprayed with what looks like megalithic graffiti. At first totally out of place, but after a time wandering about in the area, the two complement each other with fields of hay here and ‘fields’ of heather there.
We went for a walk looking for Arthur’s something or other (most places like this have so called connections with King Arthur) it was further than we thought and so turned back. There was plenty of stone lying around, what you see in the top picture are, I think, remnants of the bluestone quarries.
The white inclusions are white crystal quartz. I’m no geologist but it looked more grey/green than blue and although it’s not allowed, my pocket was a lot heaver on returning to the car (purely for defence against megalithic sheep). We could see the farm from where we were and the fields behind going half way up the mountain (see middle picture).
The geological name for Preseli Bluestone is Dolerite which is an intrusive volcanic rock of plagioclase feldspar and as it’s in fact harder than granite. Only the locals are allowed to “work the stone”, pieces are cut, polished and sold as pendants and other “hangables” in the village shops.
(See Celtic jewellery post for my own work with the stone)
As there is a well known megalithic site called the Pentre Ifan Burial Chamber not too far away from the farm we took the opportunity to spent some time there.
On the morning we left I visited P in her bedroom. It had been a long time since we had seen each other and since we were there we hadn't really time to talk together. We chatted awhile about many things, including my mother/her sister. K said she had perked up while we were there and had looked forward to our visit. If I had known of her illness I would have tried to have come earlier. The stay was oh too short. And it was difficult to break away but we had to leave to get back to Kent and stay there for a few days before starting the last leg back home.
The way back was uneventful apart from one thing. We expected to pay for the use of the road bridge into Wales, what I didn’t realise was that leaving you don’t. And so on the way back H had the money ready to throw at someone, but after crossing the bridge - no barriers, nothing! It took a while, I think we were in the near of Bristol, before the penny dropped (back into the pocket)..
Sedlescombe
Our hotel was the Brick Wall in Sedlescombe a building with Elizabethan inlay and an Italian owner. The ambient and food was very good, we took the plunge and tried a ‘local’ wine much to our disappointment. The village could have been a clone of St. Mary Mead. On the morning after our arrival I rang K to say that we had arrived safely. I was surprised to hear another female voice other than K’s answer the phone, it turned out to be the police! Before I could take this in, K was on the phone and said that her mother had died peacefully in the night. The police were there for the formalities. We exchanged a few words and promised to make contact later that day.
After talking to K later, we both came to the conclusion that she had held on till we had left and then let go. There was no chance of driving back to the farm as we had a train to catch the next day. For the rest of the holiday our mood was naturally subdued.
BattleWe went into Battle (literally), doing the typical TenSixtySix tourist walk around ‘The Field’ and the Abbey buildings with location orientated audio accompaniment which was quite interesting and well done. The Field was just that, a field, where the battle took place and nothing could be seen.
[Ed: Harold Rex Interfectus Est "King Harold is killed". Scene from the Bayeux Tapestry depicting the Battle of Hastings and the death of Harold.]
The Battle of Hastings was fought on 14 October 1066 between the Norman-French army of William, Duke of Normandy, and an English army under the Anglo-Saxon king Harold Godwinson, beginning the Norman Conquest of England.
The town of Battle grew around an abbey, which was constructed on the orders of King William to commemorate the battle and atone for the resulting slaughter. The Abbey is known as Battle Abbey, and was dedicated to St Martin, sometimes known as the "Apostle of the Gauls".The abbey was founded to commemorate the battle, and dedicated in 1095. Construction was initiated by a small group of monks from Marmoutier, France. The high altar of the abbey church was reputedly sited on the spot where Harold died.
The train from Folkestone was in the afternoon of the next day so we had time to fill up the car with Yorkshire tea, rich tea biscuits, piccalilli pickles and processed peas. Fortunately the car is a lift back which means lots of space for lots of tea. The train and rest of the journey were ‘straight’ forward with very little backing up.
I remember P mentioning in one of her letters that they regularly sat outside the cottage drinking wine, watching the sun set over the Irish Sea.Looking at the map, I could hardly believe this with the distance involved. But we were pleasantly proven wrong and could join them in this enjoyable habit. She also mentioned that on a very clear day from the top (not half way up) of their mountain, you could see the Emerald Isle itself I'll be tellen yer. How much blarney that was, will have to be tested on our return, with a good pair of binoculars and clear weather..
Pat had always signed her letters ‘your mad aunt’ and as her mad nephew this meant we got on ever so well don’t you know..
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