The Forest of Dean

Steve managed to get the day off work on Thursday so we went to the Forest of Dean in Gloucestershire.

I am unreasonably in love with that name. It sounds like something out of Monty Python, don't you think?

Forest of Dean.

Forest of Dean.

Anyway, we drove around the Cotswolds first, because the area is just a few minutes away from Jan and Steve's house and they thought it was worth a visit. 

It wasn't too long before I discovered that my camera hadn't charged up overnight. Something to do with husband unplugging the laptop in which it was charging.

Harrumph!

Steve kindly let me use his camera.

Thatched roofs have been enjoying a resurgence in the UK and there are around 1,000 full-time thatchers at work in the country. A good quality thatched roof will last for 45 to 50 years.

Jan had been telling us about the signature figures left on the rooftop by some thatchers and, sure enough, here is a shining example.

Ducks in a row, made of thatch.

And an owl.

It's interesting to drive around the countryside in England and see how the building stone differs from one area to another. The stone in the Littletons has a lot of grey tones in it.

Here is the famous Cotswold stone. This was a very grand house.

Here's something I'll bet you've never seen before.

Staddle stones.

The stone mushroom-y things that the barn is sitting on.

They were used as early as the 1700's as a supporting base for granaries, hayricks, game larders, etc. The shape of the stones protected the structures from vermin and water seepage. I think I need some of these stone beauties for my shed, which suffers sorely from both in our wet winters.

The Forest of Dean is the second largest Crown forest, meaning that it was designated a hunting area for monarchs. The practice was instigated in the 11th Century by the Normans. Remember William the Conqueror?

I don't think that royalty dare hunt here any more. 

Wild boar reside here, but we didn't see any. 

Lucky for the boar.

The first order of business was a picnic lunch.

You know it was!

I got a kick out of this couple  making themselves comfortable in the sunny clearing.

I love trees, so indulge me for a moment.

Ah, wasn't that nice?

Did I mention that it was a perfectly sunny day?

Here are Jan and Steve, consulting the map for the Sculpture Trail, on which we were about to embark.

Aren't they cute? I love their matching boots.

Jeff and I have never had matching boots. 

Never ever.

But we do have a couple of matching fleece jackets.

The sculpture Trail is four miles long. We took our time, scrutinizing the sculptures and offering our constructive criticism when necessary.

As in, That's stupid, it doesn't even mean anything.

Here are some of the sculptures that warranted a photo.

This giant chair is at the beginning of the trail. It is carved out of local logs.

This puts it in perspective.

The forest has a history of coal mining and many remnants of the industry remain. This sculpture is called The Iron Road and is carved from eucalyptus railway sleepers. Each log is carved with a unique theme, something essentially typical of the Forest of Dean, such as mining motifs. 

Many of the sculptures are hidden away and we would have missed them without a map and some sharp-eyed husbands. This was one of my favourites. A giant acorn cup and a pine cone. As they have aged, they have become covered in moss and lichens and blend into the woods.

This is The Observatory. 

It looks like it goes nowhere...

...but it overlooks this placid pond.

This. 

Is cool.

It is named Raw.

It was made from an oak tree that was almost 200 years old. The sculptor transformed the cut tree into a cube that used all of the pieces, from the largest to the smallest. The construction of the cube was a mathematical feat of gigantic proportion, much like the cube itself.

This was made from a mold of the dirt bank behind it. The reverse side is the negative image. We puzzled for some time over how such a feat was possible, because of all the angles and intricacies of the surface. It remains a mystery, because I have been unable to find any information on the sculpture.

Even though it was only four miles, we spent three hours at the Forest of Dean. We were tired as we wended our way back to the house. We made a couple of stops. First, I stocked up on chocolates to take home for presents. Then we picked up fish and chips for dinner.

And I felt sad because it was our last night with our friends.

I ♥ Shakespeare

On Wednesday, we got a not-very-early start on Stratford-upon-Avon, home of the Bard. 

Yes, the same Avon that flows gently through Evesham.

And, just for the reveal-all record, I don't think we got an early start the whole two weeks.

We each bought a pass to the Shakespeare attractions. They are good for a year, so we didn't resent the money as much as usual because Jan can use them for her family and friends. I have a feeling she's going to get mighty tired of Shakespeare and his dwelling places.

First up was Anne Hathaway's cottage, which is out of town a little bit. 

We still had to pay for parking.

Anne was William Shakespeare's wife. Historians get a little obsessed with the circumstances of their marriage, which were slightly mysterious. Anne was 26, William only 18, and their first child was born only six months later. This has led to all kinds of speculation, but no one really knows much about their marriage. Or if they were even married.

Here it is, a real thatched cottage. This was Anne Hathaway's childhood home. The oldest part of this house was built prior to the 15th century and some of the furniture inside belonged to her family. There were guides at the beginning and end of the tour and they were full of fascinating tidbits about life in the 15th century.

This is an authentic bed of the time period. Notice the rope woven through the bottom board of the bed frame. This is what supported the mattress, leading to the saying Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite. Tight meaning tightened ropes so that the mattress didn't sag.

The house is surrounded by several acres of picturesque gardens. Picnic facilities are available and you know we made good use of them!

This is a willow arbour.

You can tell, because it says so on the sign.

It was made nine years ago of living willow saplings, following the design of Shakepeare's time. The new growth that you see sticking up in the air gets woven into the structure or trimmed off, according to need.

It is supposed to be a good place for a romantic tryst, so we pressed a button on the wooden post and listened to a Shakespearean sonnet recited by a famous actor and tried to be romantic.

There were a couple of gardeners busily attending to the nearby sweet peas, so we asked them about the arbour. I was intensely curious to know how one would go about creating such a thing, having visions of a smaller version in my garden. As luck would have it, this man from Portugal built this arbour. We were treated to a fascinating description of the process of creating a living arbour. He was happy to share his expertise and to have his photo taken. 

Now there is a dream job! It seems he is quite famous in certain circles for his arbour-building abilities.

On we went into the town.

This is the Bard's birthplace.

Let me tell you, nothing is true and square in a 15th century house. Floors slope and walls meet at odd angles. It's best to watch one's footing at all times.

This is a copy of Shakepeare's First Folio. It contains 36 of his plays and was published in 1623, seven years after his death. About 750 copies of the folio were printed and 228 copies are still in existence, although most are incomplete. Eighty-two of those are at the Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington DC. The First Folio is one of the most valuable printed books in the world; in the last ten years, copies sold at auctions for around $6 million.

Whereupon, my camera ran out of battery.

Genius!

So we visited Nash's House, which is where William's sister, Susanna, lived with her doctor husband.

Next door to this can be found the foundations of New Place, where the Shakespeares lived when they left London and moved back to Stratford. The house was demolished and rebuilt in 1702 by the new owner, only to be demolished again by another owner in 1759 because of a quarrel with the town authorities over taxation. 

Beware of juicy stories told by tour guides. They told us that the new owner didn't like Shakespeare or the tourists that were constantly bothering him and that is why he demolished the house. We found that many stories are embellished by tour guides!

The excavations were interesting, especially after we nabbed an official-looking lady who spent a good half-hour telling us all about their findings. I tell you, all you have to do is ask the question and people are only too willing to share all their knowledge. It happened almost every day (and twice on this day) and I loved it!

In the absence of photos, how about some well-used phrases that were either coined by or popularized by Shakespeare? The list might surprise you.

All that glitters is not gold.

As luck would have it.

Bated breath.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be.

Brave new world.

Refuse to budge an inch.

Crack of doom.

Brevity is the soul of wit..

Dead as a doornail.

Eaten me out of house and home.

Fancy free.

Foregone conclusion.

For goodness' sake.

The game is afoot. 

Give the Devil his due.

And there are so many more. An extensive list of phrases and words is here.

It's not really known which he invented and which already existed, but the first record of all of these phrases is in Shakepeare's writings.

I think I need to re-read Hamlet. Consider a few quotes.

There's a divinity that shapes our ends,

Rough-hew them how we will.

Alas, poor Yorick.

When sorrows come, they come not single pieces,

But in battalions.

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.

Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind.

The whole play is quotable.

If you haven't ever read it, you should.

Or, at least watch the movie.

Kenneth Branagh or Mel Gibson.

It's a tough choice.

Memory Lane. Mine, not yours!

Every time I start a post, I resolve to use less photos.

Twenty-one this time.

Not working out so well!

We stayed with Jan, my childhood friend, and her husband Steve for four days. Our bedroom was filled with sunlight when we awoke on Tuesday morning and I had a glorious sleep-in. The only activity planned for the day was to visit my old haunts, so we got a late start after breakfast. 

Jan is big on three squares a day and her main occupation, other than driving us around because I was out of patience with driving, was feeding us. Everywhere we went, a picnic was sure to follow.

Thank you Jan, for taking such good care of us. I felt very spoiled. In a good way.

I'll tell you something. Jan gets a big kick out of casually referring to things that she has read on this blog. She gives a little sideways glance and a smirk as she lets me know how much she knows about me. It's pretty hilarious. And, considering that we have only seen each other once in the last 45 years, she really does know a lot about me! It makes me wonder how many of my other friends and readers think that they have me all figured out. 

Maybe I tell too much? 

Maybe I should start holding some things back?

Not that I have lost sleep over it, mind you. It just made me think about how much I reveal about myself.

You can read more about Jan here.

The River Avon in Evesham looms large in my memories. My Mum and Dad used to visit the location before they ever moved out of Birmingham. 

You can rent those barges and putter up and down the river to your heart's content.

Or until the money runs out.

Here I am, holding my mother's hand, on the very same riverbank.

More British humour. These signs are in all of the towns. 

Tourists are expected.

My sister and I both remember this whale's jawbone. It has been on the riverbank for over 100 years. I think Dad used to make up tall stories about it, which is maybe why we remember it so well.

Little girls still feed the swans.

Evesham is old. With lots of history. Which I will forbear from reciting.

Next stop, the Littletons, where half of my childhood took place.

First, the old church, where Jan and I sat together many times. Jan also got married here.

These brick walls are ubiquitous in this area of the country. Anne and I used to walk on them on the way to school. This one surrounds the churchyard.

The old tithe barn.

Down the lane and around a few bends is a road known as Blakes Hill. At the bottom of the road was a dairy farm and behind our house were the cow pastures. The cows used to traipse up and down the road every day to be milked. I'll leave the state of the road to your imagination.

Here is the dear old house, looking almost the same except for the addition on the front.

And the brick wall.

Janet insisted that we climb two gates and clamber through the fields to take a look at the back garden.

As we were peering rudely over the fence, trying to get a look at everything, we noticed the owner right about the same time he noticed us.

How embarrassing!

But he was very nice and pointed out the changes he had made and even offered to take a picture for us.

I said "Thank you."

Note the solarium, one of his additions. 

Dad would have loved it.

There used to be two huge old apple trees in the garden and a whole swing-and play-set that Dad built for us. He also built a tree house in the tall trees that used to be where the fence now stands.

All gone.

We said our goodbye and climbed and traipsed back to the car. As we were passing the front of the house, the owner came out and called us over. He introduced himself as Richard and invited us into the house to see all the renovations he had made.

Oh, twist my arm, I cried!

No, I'm kidding. I accepted quite graciously.

Richard and his wife, Audrey, proudly gave us the grand tour. The house is really beautiful. Richard, who used to be in the construction business before retiring, has knocked out walls, changed the orientation of rooms, and added rooms until the mind boggles. It was immaculate and tastefully done, and I think Dad would have been impressed. 

This collection of old tools is on the wall in an addition to the house.

As we were standing in the solarium, talking, Audrey suddenly blurted out, "Were there two little girls?"

I confirmed that there were.

She told us that several years ago, when Richard was removing a cement slab from the garage, he found two little sets of footprints and names in the floor beneath. They had wondered about the footprints all this time and were tickled to meet the owner of the largest set. 

This was one of the sweetest moments of the whole trip for me. I think it is because I have always lived so far away from all the things that were familiar to me as a child. The villages in which we lived have changed so little that when I go back it is as if time slips away and I can walk the country lanes and relive those carefree days. I am very blessed to have had such a secure and happy childhood.

We walked around the village loop and Jan filled me in on everything she knew about the houses and the people who lived in them. Lest you fall in love with these gems, as we did, the price of real estate is prohibitive in these picturesque villages.

English people constantly crack me up!

Put money through front door.

How great is that?

The Ivy Inn, a village landmark.

Still there, after all these years.

Back to the car and one more wistful look at the old house.

I really earned my name that day.

Nostalgic Nana, indeed.

Oh yeah, twenty-three photos, did you notice?