En route home.

Last two days in one blog – mainly because I didn’t have time to sit down and blog till I got to the airport!

Market Day at the ButterCross

The final morning with Steve & Gill was lovely – the day promised to be a scorcher, but the morning was still cool, and we had breakfast in the garden before I got my bags repacked.  We walked in to the station – it’s just up from the ButterCross, and the Thursday market was on, so Gill and Steve were able to do a fresh-produce shop. They’re heading up to Manchester Friday morning to have a weekend of grandparent duty, and to allow Ben and Irena to get away for a couple of days. Izzie goes to doggie daycare for the weekend; I think she has a hard time with little Nico, who’s a grabber!

We were in good time for the train, and enjoyed a last visit together in the quiet before it arrived.

Gill

Steve

Nottingham change was easy, but when I got to Birmingham, I found that my train to Reading had been cancelled. Luckily, there was another half an hour later, but when it arrived we discovered there was some sort of problem with it, and they needed to bring in a substitute. With the passengers for the 1.33 AND the 2.03, it was a little crowded. The advantages of being an older female – a very nice young railways guy got my bag on the train in the first class area and said “you might as well sit there if nobody’s claimed a seat”. I was most grateful – there were a lot of people who had to stand for the whole journey in the in-between bits with no air-con. 

Goring-on-Thames choir

We arrived in Reading 45 minutes late – luckily I’d been able to warn Fran – and there she was waiting for me. She’s one of those people that just doesn’t change – and one of those friends with whom the friendship just clicks back into place. We had a lovely couple of hours catching up, and then headed out to choir practice. She has directed the Goring choir for close on 30 years, and they don’t stop at the end of the season – they are in the middle of prep for a weekend singing services at Exeter Cathedral in August. It was nice to sit and observe, to do a little accompanying, but not to have to take any responsibility!  We went to the pub with a group of the singers, afterwards – such nice people!

Well done!

Friday morning was an early start, and Fran dropped me off at Reading station at 6am.  Smooth journey – glitches apart, I’ve quite enjoyed this rail travel holiday, though in all too many towns, the views are blocked – so we went though Oxford yesterday, and Guilford this morning, and I got barely a glimpse of colleges and the Cathedral. I’ve loved the variety of countryside, though the speed at which we travel really precludes good photos. And going through small towns with names like Dorking Deepdene...

Now writing from Gatwick airport, which is not a beautiful experience, but has to be dealt with.  I think it’s going to be a full flight, unlike the one on which I came. I asked about an upgrade, but nothing was available, and sadly, I’m not on an aisle – I resent having to pay for a specific seat, but obviously everyone else just did it...  Dig out the melatonin and try and sleep it off....  It's an 11:40am flight and I arrive 1:25pm – jetlag going east to west is always hardest for me!  Oh, well – I’ll be in my own bed soon enough, and I hope that McCormick is ready to forgive his cage stay and allow some cuddles!

I've missed you!

Two sleeps

A quiet garden corner

 A short blog for Wednesday, with mot much to report...  This is Gill's domestic morning, so we made an early start, since Muffy, the cleaner, arrives early too. It was lovely to see Muffy again - she had also been Mum's cleaner, and very much part of making it possible for Mum to remain in her own home as long as she did.  I moved myself out of the way, finishing the previous day's blog wherever they weren't!

The house, from the garden corner

Gill then went off to her Pilates session, Steve settled himself down to do a some training for a Citizens' Advice module - he volunteers in Grantham - and I went down the garden to read a whodunnit. Lunch outdoors was followed by what will probably be my last afternoon of Wimbledon.  We had an early meal and then Steve ran me across to Newark, just northeast of Bingham, where Rachel, Nathan and Zander live. Rachel teaches in an elementary school that is severely impacted by the presence of "travelers" - gypsies, Romanians, with language issues and no expectation of achieving anything through education. That being said, she is really excited that the school has done so well with SATs scoring this year - when the powers-that-be are pushing the national curriculum, and she has non-readers and largely innumerate kids to deal with, she's under a lot of pressure.  Her husband, Nathan, is a professional trumpeter - largely traveling to and from London, but also going wherever he's called. He has a reputation as the guy to bring in if you want the perfect sub at the last minute, and plays shows, classical and jazz - the latter being his great love.

Newark Civil War Museum

He was approached by a Newark City Councillor to serve as Newark and Sherwood Music Coordinator on a part-time, short-term basis and has been spending a lot of time finding out what's going on with choirs and bands, in school and community. I don't know if it'll lead to more - and he's not sure if he wants it to impact his other professional life - but he's full of ideas.  He gets invited to a number of things, one of which was an Evensong by Newark Church Choir. The church is currently undergoing renovation, so the event was held at the Civil War Museum, nearby.  They were commemorating a benefactor of the 16th century, one Thomas Magnus, who was basically a civil servant under Henry VIII, but managed to amass enough funds to establish a foundation in the town that funds music education - both at the church and at local schools.

Newark Parish Choir

The choir did well - good parish church singing, with some kids who were in the early stages of learning, and constantly lost! Adult SATB with about a dozen youngsters.  They began with a plainsong sequence from Thomas Magnus's time, but the rest of the rep was varied - Joanna L'Estrange's Responses, Batten's Fourth Service Mag & Nunc (a verse setting, so a good opportunity for solo voices to have a chance), an overly-romantic Stanford anthem.  Not really Nathan's thing, but certainly mine!  We stayed for the reception afterwards and then he ran me back to Bingham, where we sat in the garden over drinks for my last evening.

History day

Richard III, outside the Cathedral

We had a wonderful day in Leicester, where I’ve not lived for more than 42 years. I hardly recognized it – I had to keep reorienting myself as to where I was. We weren’t that far from where I worked at the Leicestershire School of Music, but the downtown core has changed a lot, and Steve tells me that the population is the most culturally diverse in England, with people from many countries moving to the area.

The Cathedral spire, where the peregrines are nesting

Our focus was a display that Steve and Gill had brought Zander to, a while back, but ended up not taking the time they would liked – so they were really glad to come again. We arrived at Leicester Cathedral to find the focus was unexpected – the local ornithological society was out in force to draw attention to the peregrine falcons nesting in the Cathedral spire, and we had a fascinating conversation with one of the experts from Leicester Peregrines. 

Hearing about the peregrines

Fascinating as they were, what we were there for was something much older. My British history is a little rusty, but I’ve always been fascinating by the Wars of the Roses, fought up and down England 1455-1487. They pitted the House of Lancaster (white rose) and the House of York (red rose) against each other, and Lancaster won, in the person of Henry Tudor, who became Henry VII. The last Yorkist was Richard III, killed at the Battle of Bosworth – Bosworth is to the east of Leicester – and his body was reputedly buried at a GreyFriars monastery in the city, but the monastery was  demolished during the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 16th century.

Richard III was considered the villain of the time for many years, mostly thanks to Shakespeare’s portrait of him in the play – but we have to remember that the portrait came to us through Tudor eyes. With the Tudors out of the way, there was a strong move to reinstate his reputation, and the Richard III Society became strong about a hundred years ago.  Wikipedia has it in detail, if you’re interested - but the short form of it is that they excavated a City Council parking lot, and discovered remains that were linked by DNA to the dead king who was exhumed and finally reburied in the Cathedral.

Looking down on the grave-site

The exhibition was wonderful – history in detail, but also presented in a way that was accessible and interesting. (Just not always photographable!)  We ended up at the excavation site where heavy glass panels covered the space where the skeleton was found, and the curve of his scoliosis spine was evident.  

And when we went for coffee afterwards, we were left in no doubt about where we were!

Gill & Steve suffering from the plague!

In the courtyard of the Guildhall Museum

The Mayor's Parlour

We walked over to the Cathedral only to find that it was closed until 1:30, so we went on to the Guildhall museum which none of us had known – beautifully preserved and presented.

The grand hall

Beautiful old period furniture - with warning signs.
This one says
"Everyone who has ever sat on this chair is now dead.
Play it safe and remain standing."

Downstairs in the jail

We found lunch at a wonderful little Buddhist centre just behind the Cathedral with the most fabulous vegetarian/vegan food – yum, yum! - and then we returned to the Cathedral. Richard III was reinterred there in 2015, but in the last five years, they have had a mandate to do some major renewal work – archeology, structural .work, providing a new level stone floor throughout (including underfloor heating); replacing failing infrastructure such as boilers, electrical system; installing new lighting and audio-visual systems; restoring/revealing architectural features; and repairing much that had deteriorated (particularly stonework and décor). 

The building is more large-parish-church style than big cathedral – it was St Martin’s Church until 1927 when the diocese of Leicester was established. They have done some wonderful display work – video and signage – and the Heritage site attached has both Roman and Plantagenet content. Really interesting stuff!

The locally made pall which covered the coffin at the reinterment.
This side showed images from Richard's time; the other side included images
of those involved in rediscovering him this century

.

The new bishop's throne

Richard III's tomb

We did a downtown walk around the market place and the old town hall before we headed for home – Steve to make curry, Gill to do necessary chores, and me to indulge in Wimbledon. I watched Sabalenka go forward, American Fritz, and then partway through the game between Carlos Alcaraz and Cam Norrie I got called to dinner and missed the rest of it!  I might get some tomorrow afternoon, but I’ll be out tomorrow evening and Thursday as well, so I need to make the most of it tonight.

A (mostly) quiet day

From my window - still and beautiful!

 Monday was a lovely quiet day, with lots of unwinding time. Bingham has town status, but the centre still very much has a village vibe – an open space on which the weekly markets are held, the surrounding local shops, the Butter Cross at the centre of the town. We walked 10 minutes through little back lanes and through the church yard to reach the market place – Steve had to pick up new glasses from the opticians, I wanted something to kick my cough into submission.  There are a couple of little grocery shops, but S&G prefer to go a little further, to Lidl, to do serious grocery shopping, and Mum always preferred to go all the way to Gamston to shop at Morrisons.

Bingham Butter Cross

Sunday’s rain had largely blown away, but there was still a lot of cloud.  We stayed in for lunch;  Gill had prep to do for a training session at Samaritans and I wanted to watch Wimbledon; I’m no tennis player, but I do enjoy watching them!  Izzy wanted my attention, but is very bad about giving up her toys to play.  She’s calmed down a lot since two years ago, when she bit me! - she knows the consequence of barking behaviour, which is time out.

Cockerpoo - Izzie

Steve and I had dinner together – Gill had gone out – and then we walked around to the Butter Cross again, and up Station Road. By the time we were halfway up it, we were greeted by dance-band music; the (very good) school band from Toothill School had effectively been frozen out by the music teacher (who, I think, wanted things more classical) and they had reconstituted themselves as a community group – two-thirds youngsters, and the remaining being older more experienced players, as mentors. They already did quite a lot in the way of community engagements, and took trips to their twin city of Wallenfels in Bavaria. My niece Rachel has been involved for years and met her husband Nathan through band; Nathan is now one of those professional trumpeters who gets called in as a sub for London shows, evenings at Ronnie Scotts, gigs in Birmingham or Dublin – he really gets around!

The end of Birdland - and the end of the rehearsal!

Their son, my great-nephew (!) Zander, is 16, and a trumpeter as well – though I think he’ll keep his trumpet-playing as a sideline to whatever he decides to do.  He’s going for sciences at A-levels.

Proud Dad & Grandpa!

Anyway, we enjoyed watching their rehearsal, and then joined them and some of the other players in the pub afterwards for a quick drink, before walking home.

Ferry and rail

Saying goodbye to Howth

I don’t regret the decision to be eco-conscious in my travel plans this summer, but there are lots of things for and against – and the time it takes is a big issue!  I think there are flights from Dublin to East Midlands Airport, and I could have been in Nottinghamshire within an hour – but instead, it was a full 12-hour travelling day!   

The tip of Howth - and the plane I wasn't catching!

The cab picked me up at TCD at 6:45am, and by 7.10 I was on the ferry and enjoying my first coffee. I’d actually planned the bus route to get there, but then Irish Ferries rescheduled the starting time back half an hour, and the first bus to the terminal would have been a very tight connection, so I gave in and cabbed it. The crossing was calm and easy, and the ferry not too full; I went upstairs on deck a couple of times and it was blowy enough that it was hard to open the door.  

Arriving at Holy Island

Waiting at the station

When we reached Holyhead they offloaded most of the cars, and then brought a couple of buses on board for the walk-on passengers – it’s a long way from the Irish Ferries mooring to the terminus, but picking up my bag and getting through Customs was easy, and the railway station was about five minutes away.  I was booked on a 12:40 train, and could almost have made the one an hour earlier, but was glad to be able to take my time – and in the event, by the time my train arrived, I pretty much had a carriage to myself, instead of the crowded one the earlier train would have necessitated.

Bangor Bay with Llandudno on the right

Road and rail run together along the coast

In the haze you can just make out the wind-farms in the bay

Summer cabins everywhere!

I loved the first leg of the journey, from Holyhead on the island of Anglesey, to Crewe station. The weather looked a little ominous, but every now and then the sun broke through, and it never actually rained where I was – though Steve & Gill told me there was plenty of it in Nottinghamshire! We passed the longest station sign in Wales (Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerich....   etc!)  crossed the Menai Straits and headed up towards the coast. All that region is prime summer holiday space, and there are summer trailer-parks everywhere. Then we turned south east to run down the Dee estuary, and I was able to look over at the Wirral Peninsula, with Liverpool beyond that, and remember day trips to Parkgate and to my father’s favourite botanic gardens at Neston.  We stopped briefly in Chester, but didn’t see much of the historic side of it, and then the next stop was Crewe.  

Castle in the crags

Crewe is one of the transition junctions with everyone changing trains. I had 15 minutes to work out where I needed to be and get from one side of the station to the other. Thank goodness, all these stations are now equipped with elevators, because there are a lot of stairs. The next train was one to Derby, and was pretty full; I managed to find a seat near the door where I could lay my little suitcase flat so it didn’t roll around. Lots of stops and starts here, and then again on the next train to Nottingham, where I had time to work out the next steps.  I could have left the station and taken a bus to Bingham, but since my Eurail pass covered this last leg, I waited for the train headed to Skegness, and got off at the third station – and bless the man, there was Steve, waiting to carry my case over the railway bridge (no elevators here!). 6am to 6pm – a long day of travelling!

Home with S&G

So – lovely to be with Steve and Gill again – we spent the evening talking about Ben and Irene’s wedding back in May (lovely photos of the trip to Barcelona), and about blogging and keeping holiday records. 

Last day in Ireland

What a great day!  

The Bell Tower

At 8:30am I met with a group at the Bell Tower, with our student guide Catherine who took us on our Trinity Trail, with some history of Trinity College Dublin. It was a grey morning, and rain was (just) in the air – not enough for raincoats, but enough to have us keeping eyes open for possible shelter. We were introduced to the two NeoClassical 18th century Classic buildings: Heaven (the multi-faith chapel) and Hell (the Examinations Hall) which face each other across Parliament Square, to the student traditions surrounding the statue of the Provost and the Bell Tower, to the red-brick student residences and the ghost that haunts them. 

This cat has a mouse; and notice the little goblin on the right;
the carvers put these in when they weren't being paid on time

I love the squirrels - and notice all the mice above the window!

We heard about the history of the place – it was built on the foundation of an Augustinian Priory which was destroyed by the Protestant invasion 400 years ago, and for many years it was an Anglo-Irish institution that was not open to Catholics at all. Now it’s multi-faith, with many students from other countries, and with more women than men among staff and students. Catherine took us through her favourite space in Museum Hall, with its wonderful variety of Irish stone, and all its external carvings done by just two brothers in the 1850s, with constant new images and very little repetition.

Extraordinary stonework; Connemara marble has a green tinge (see above);
Cork marble is reddish; Kilkenny marble is black; Wicklow granite with a golden tint

At  9:15 our tour ended at the Old Library, where the Book of Kells is housed; Catherine told us that perhaps twice a year they clear everyone out, don hazmat suits, and turn one page in the book – and that they’d done that just a couple of weeks ago, so the new page was visible for the first time in a couple of hundred years.

St John

A treatise on beekeeping

Upstairs in the Long Room many of the books have been removed for better preservation, but there were interesting displays, and the room was dominated by the Gaia art installation which features NASA imagery of the earth – quite mesmerizing!  

Many of these shelves of books are now in storage, for preservation

Gaia dominates

Kells images in embroidered linen

For me, it was just too crowded – they have timed entries and enormous demand, but there’s no rush to get people through, and the really interesting illustrations were hard to view with the crowd flow.  I should have gone on to the immersive Kells Experience section, but by 10:30am, I’d had enough and needed some space. So I headed off-campus, to the Tara St station to catch the DART local train to Dun Laoghaire (pronounced Dun Leery). This was family history stuff; my grandfather was the Presbyterian minister there from 1927 till his death in 1942, and the Manse, next to the church, was where my mother and uncles were brought up. Dublin Bay is a deep semicircle, with Dun Laoghaire about halfway along the southern side, and Howth (pronounced Hoath) isthmus on the other side. The DART train runs the full length of the curve, and there are great views across the water.

I’d heard about a place called The Oratory, which has a wonderful display of early 20th century celtic art.  In typical Irish fashion, there was no info to be found about opening hours or access, and it’s location was not clear, but I walked uphill in the general direction I thought it was. There was a shopping centre and I stopped for a coffee – and while having my drink, I noticed there was a back entrance and a narrow stairway, so I exited by that route and found myself exactly where I needed to be! It was a rather weird red building, but I’d hit just before noon and a small group was gathering for a tour.  

The lobby, on to the display room, and the oratory entrance beyond

The altar frontal was where she started; patterns rather than images

They started with a rather dated DVD about the history of the Oratory, and of the nun who was responsible for the art-work, Sister Concepta Lynch, who taught at the Dominican convent. She came from an artistic family, and the abbess permitted her to use her “spare” time to decorate the Oratory – intially just the altar and the surroundings, as a tribute to all the young soldiers who never returned from WWI – but once that was done, she extended her work to the whole room, using celtic-themed intricacy and images that owe much to the Book of Kells. 

After her death in 1939 the convent dwindled in personnel, and finally was sold – but with a clause that the Oratory be maintained. In 1995 a grant was made by the European Commission called Kingfisher in Flight, and the original oratory was enclosed in a shell building to protect it. 

Sister Concepta’s work was done with the aid of stencils, and the designs are balanced from one side of the building to the other. The lowest level uses muted earthen colours, and the creatures are earthen ones – worms, snakes, lizards.

I love her happy worms!

More colours are added in the central section, with human figures and animals, and many interlaced decorations. Above are the birds, full of vibrancy and noise. There is a wonderful kingfisher-phoenix-pelican which Sister Concepta’s father had used as a symbol in his art studio, and which represents resurrection and triumph over death, a symbol for the fallen soldiers. The ceiling is unfinished but evokes heavenly light.

composite birds

One of the things that fascinates me is that Grandfather Rutherford may well have known her – a Presbyterian Minister and a Dominican Nun might not have much in common, but the Oratory is just down the hill from the Manse, and he took great interest in the possibilities for ecumenism.

Having soaked up all that wonderful Celtic colour, I headed uphill to find the church. I suspect a lot of the local building is post-war, but the Church building and the Manse next door to it maintain that strong Scottish quality that was so much a part of 19th century protestantism in Ireland. 

Dun Laoghaire Presbyterian Church, with the Manse to the left

and the sign on the door says "The Manse"

The Rutherfords and the Adams and the Robbs had their roots in Scotland (we used to say, they were probably cattle thieves, run out of the country!).  Sadly, there was nobody around the church – there was a car parked outside, but nobody I could ask about records.  Online research had not been helpful; even though James Spence Rutherford had been the minister 1927-1942, there were no digital records I could find.

I headed back down the hill to the harbour – a very busy mooring;  there are two long quays that curve together, and make for a safe space for a lot of boats.  Out in the bay, I could see one of the ferries coming in from Holyhead – I’ll be going the other way tomorrow.  I treated myself to lunch (fish and chips again – but hake, rather than cod or haddock;  nice – and now, fingers crossed that it doesn’t do to me what snapper/rockfish does!  

See the ferry, through all the masts?

I’d hoped to visit Howth as well, but it was heading towards the end of my 24-hours transit ticket, so I got myself back to TCD, lay on my bed and went to sleep!  It’s been a 14000-step day, so I feel entitled...   When I woke, I went to finish my Kells day with the last part of the program, an immersive experience in a temporary red building in the square in front of the Museum building. It was interesting – probably much more so for youngsters than the stuff I’d seen in the morning – with talking statues, projected information, lights and colour and a couple of surround-experience-narratives about the Book of Kells origin and about the Long Room – but perhaps a bit too much in terms of movement and light; I can see it might be hard for people who struggle with stimuli.  And of course it decanted us through the obligatory gift store at the end!

Of course, I had to find a cat image....

Projected Kells illustrations

Rather more contemporary Irish illustrations;
this is from the 1913 book of children's poems called The Google Book 
(nothing to do with the internet!)

Back to my room to write all this up and to wrestle with the fact that my phone wasn’t backing up properly, so I had to re-route my photos via Messenger again.  I’ve been hearing drumming noises; I think there’s a concert at College Park tonight;  let’s hope it doesn’t go too late.  I need to get myself organized and to bed early, to be up before 6am;  I’ve a taxi ordered at 6:45am to get me to the ferry terminal for a LONG day of travelling!