We spotted Salisbury’s majestic cathedral topped with England’s tallest spire (123 metres) kilometres from the city. The Gothic cathedral, built in the 1200’s, is now the home of Europe’s (and questionably the world’s) oldest working clock and the finest of only four surviving Magna Cartas. The clock, which was built in 1386, has no face and hands but rather chimes a church bell on the hour. If it has worked continuously since it was made, it has ticked more than 5 billion times (only ticks every 5 seconds).
The Magna Carta is one of the most celebrated documents in English history – at the time, in 1215, it was a solution to a political crisis, but its importance has endured, as one of the Latin clauses protecting the rights of individuals is still law today.
Enough of medieval history ... we took an enormous leap back in time to the Stone, Bronze and Iron Age. We let it soak into our veins as we visited every possible henge and Iron Age fort in the southwestern pocket of England – Old Sarum, Woodhenge, Stonehenge and Avebury Henge to name the main ones.
The iconic archaeological site of Stonehenge was overwhelming. One could only marvel at the prehistoric engineering feat involved in carting the enormous rocks (some over 240 km from Wales) and the erection of the lintel stones on top. Although the real mystic of this great and ancient stone circle will never be unravelled, its connection to the sun and the seasons is fascinating - an interesting arrangement of rocks.
Georgia felt that our step back in time was not complete without sighting one of the great “hill figure” horses carved into the chalk rock. Although many date back to the Stone Age, the one we saw was only created in 1812.
All in desperate need of a bath, the Roman Baths seemed the logical destination. However when we arrived, there was no way we were jumping into the lead lined baths filled with green murky steaming waters. We found the elegant town of Bath with its multiple rows of duplicate Georgian style houses eye capturing, though the narrow streets were not particularly in sync with our home on wheels.
The old Roman road, The Fosse Way, led us north into the Cotswold Hills to Cirencester. The “Cotswolds” were beautiful, with its undulating landscape, dry stone and hedge fences, green pastures and 1,000,001 sheep. The local history recorded in the Cirencester Museum (from prehistoric, stone, bronze and iron ages, Saxons, Vikings, Normans and through the medieval times) was fascinating for all ages, including Ellie who thrived with the activities the museum had on offer for young ones.
We stayed the night with some Green relatives, Andrew and Sally Scarth, and thoroughly enjoyed the simplicity of a warm shower, cosy beds, home cooked meals and SPACE.
Cirencester – Chaddsley Corbett
Stratford-Upon-Avon, the dainty touristy town, was the birthplace and home of William Shakespeare.
This called for some recitals, by Mum and Dad, from the many comedies and tragedies of Shakespeare’s writings, and not much conversation was understood by the rest of the family for a while. The children may have felt their parents had gone completely off the rails.
“Green” country in the Black Country was our next destination. Black Country was the name given in the mid 1800’s to the industrial region located in the midlands of England. At this time it was considered the “workshop of the world” as the industrial revolution gained full momentum. Its name is derived from the smoke of many thousands of ironworking foundries and forges, and the countryside which had been spoiled by the working of coal mines. Sarah’s great-great grandfather, and subsequent generations, owned a tool, chain and nail manufacturing business in this area. It is still the home of the Green family.
The Black Country Museum was a step back in time as we watched a chain maker skilfully master the hot iron into uniform links. The tour down an underground coal mine was an unnerving insight into the dim working life of men and boys who were as young as nine, especially when we turned off our torches to feel the loneliness of the dark and cold conditions.
Staying with Sarah’s cousin near Chaddesley Corbett was fantastic (leaving aside that it was in a house). It was also fabulous to see great Aunt Ilse again, who never tires and has the energy and spirit of a person half her age. We relaxed, and the children played, as Mark and Maggs did their extra bit to spoil us, especially by organising a huge get together of relatives (most of whom we had not met before) with some cousins travelling hours to see us. There was plenty of chatting and plenty of laughter.
The laughter did not stop with the end of the dinner party. After everyone had left, Vid was having a shower ... Sarah was awoken to a little “knock, knock” and Vid whispering, “Sar, I’m locked in the bathroom”. Apparently Sarah’s response was, "Is there somewhere in there you can sleep?” When she was greeted with a “NO”, she apparently responded by saying, “Well what do you want ME to do about it?” Can’t imagine that Sarah would have been so heartless. An hour later, and with Maggs and Mark on the job, the sledge hammer was brought out and Vid was rescued in the wee hours of the morning. Fortunately Mark’s skill as a builder meant the house was not totally destroyed in the process.
Off to Wales ...
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