Gloucestershire is England at its most seductive, with a wonderful rolling landscape, not greatly changed for 4,000 years, still plenty of sheep. Much of it is low-lying, so flooding is a constant and the wetland fowl love it, although we didn't see the overwhelming numbers that I had expected, despite our route's taking us through the Slimbridge Estate. For we baby-boomers this is always associated with Peter Scott and the Wildfowl Trust. I have to admit to a lifelong lack of fascination for birds, yes all very impressive, particularly the flying and migration but maybe I am just not inclined to bird awe.
In my gap year I worked at the British Library Lending Division, based at Boston Spa near Wetherby, in a former munitions factory - the blast doors between the blocks were something else and we had those vacuum tubes for sending requisitions in glass cylinders between departments, as in 'Are You Being Served?' Oo er, missus! The one that went under the access road to W Store had been crushed by a heavy vehicle and who knew which vital requests for obscure publications had been lost? But I digress, as so very often. During my time in W Store I took back and issued requests for multiple copies of books for evening classes run by the Workers Educational Authority and the twitchers were heavily represented. Grey of Fallodon's, The Charm of Birds was very popular indeed, this being Edward Grey, of that Northumberland noble family and former PM in the pre-WWI Liberal Cabinet. I never caught the bug.
However, today we got to see the wonderful, if run-down, medieval tithe barn at Ashleworth, which I went to see in January, during a visit to Ross-on-Wye. The National Trust really needs to make more of it but I wonder whether their plans for a civil wedding venue will succeed. It is, of course, a great (listed) barn of a place but being crapped on by pigeons or bats may not make weddings go with a swing.
Gloucester Docks are coming on well and how vast they, and the related waterways, are. In particular the Gloucester and Sharpness Canal is ambitiously wide, so the level of trade to Gloucester and onwards via the canal network must have been enormous. The limestone chippings on the towpath were hard work. Greenways are a mixed blessing. Just afterwards Berkeley was extraordinary, with a vast green, a castle and a huge church, glimpsed in passing. Who knew?
In Alveston, we repaired to the Cross Hands for a dangerous pint of Thatcher's Heritage cider. Judging by the nose, a few rats had failed to make it to the side of the vat. The local faggots, mash and peas were a fitting accompaniment. And so, to bed, after this blog.
No comments:
Post a Comment