Day 8: Sheffield to Barnsdale

It was Saturday morning, nearly a week since we arrived in England. Our hosts M and P gave us a break from driving by giving us a brief guided tour of Sheffield and the nearby Peak District. First we headed into the centre of Sheffield. The city suffered, I am told, from the downturn of the steel industry, and was very run-down in the 1980s. Since then it has had a revival and there are some wonderful modern buildings.

This is the Winter Gardens, a huge glasshouse, with free public entry:



and the interior:



We found that there was a display of wood carvings.



Adjacent to the winter gardens is an art gallery. I did manage to take this photo, before being informed photography was not allowed in the gallery.



Which was a shame, as I would like to have taken a photo of the very amusing statue of a horse-like creature, made entirely of cutlery - knives, forks and spoons - and able to move in various ways at the push of a button. It must delight countless streams of small children.

Exploring a bit further afield, we came to the magnificent Town Hall with gardens and a fountain outside - this is also apparently, the delight of small children, as each jet of water shoots up and dies down, while children jump about trying to dodge them (possibly not trying too hard!). The group at the left of the photo is a wedding party, complete with groom in kilt, who were having their photos taken.



We left the city and drove out to the nearest part of the Peak District National Park. This was a surprise to me, as it looked very different from the other side of the Peak District that we had driven through almost a week previously. The area near Sheffield is known as the "Dark Peak", consisting of peaty high moorlands with some impressive rock outcrops, while the limestone "White Peak" further west has dales, woodlands and farm country.





P and I (the two women) went for a walk along the top of the hill while the men stayed behind in the area near the carpark, exploring more slowly.



With about 10 sheep for every person in New Zealand, you would think I wouldn't be too impressed by sheep - however, the sheep in England seem to be different from those in New Zealand, with black face sheep being very common - in New Zealand sheep are mostly white (or grubby cream).



We headed back to town where P packed us sandwiches for lunch and we were on our way south. It should have been a relatively short trip, but we made a couple of diversions - first to friends N and S near Melton Mowbray, and then into Leicester to see a genealogy contact of P's (Two P's is getting confusing - you will have to figure out which is my husband and which is my cousin's wife!)

Then it was off to Barnsdale on the shores of Rutland Water, which was to be our home for the next week. Barnsdale Lodge is a timeshare resort based on a grand house, with units in the old stables and also in these chalets:



The interior of our two bedroomed chalet:



and the view from our front deck.



It was getting late and we hadn't eaten dinner, so we headed into Oakham, the nearest settlement, to look for a restaurant. Instead we found a number of takeaway places, so bought burgers and then headed back to the resort.

Next: Sunday is a quiet day, and on Monday we start exploring Leicestershire.

Day 7: Shrewsbury to Sheffield

Anyone who knows England might be beginning to suspect that we took a rather odd route. It would have been more logical to start in Shrewsbury, or Sheffield, both being easy drives from Manchester. However my cousin in Sheffield was away in Portugal until the Thursday after we arrived. (All "cousins" mentioned in this account will be numbered cousins, i.e. third cousins, fourth cousins etc - contacts made through genealogy). And P wanted to visit the Shrewsbury archives, which were closed on Sundays and Mondays. So our route was adjusted to fit, crossing over itself.

As it turned out, the Shrewsbury archives were closed Thursday afternoon as well. And we arrived on Thursday afternoon. So we hadn't been to the archives on Day 6, although P had spotted a house where he thought one of his ancestors lived. It had a numbered plaque on it, so we had returned to the information centre where the very knowledgeable assistant had been able to give him quite a bit of information about it, confirming it was the house P was looking for.

The b&b we stayed at in Shrewsbury was different from any we had stayed at so far. It was stamped with the personality of the landlady, with lots of collections of books and folk art around the place including these antique gollies - very non-PC no doubt.



I'd have to say that I see no harm in golliwogs. I didn't read Noddy books as a child, in which the gollies are the baddies. That's because our local library didn't stock them, and I didn't own many books. I did read Little Black Sambo, and that and golliwogs were the main indication to me that there were people of different skin colour in the world. (Oh, and National Geographic, and a series of books set in different countries called "The Twins of..."). I think they introduced me to the world's diversity. Shrewsbury was also the first place that we were offered options other than cooked breakfast or continental. We were able to have scrambled eggs and tomatoes, rather than the standard bacon, sausages, fried eggs, tomatoes and mushrooms, which in many establishments tended to come swimming in fat.

After breakfast and with the car packed, we headed to the main square as I had seen that there was a food fair. We sampled local produce - breads, honey, cheeses, specialty sausages etc.









We had to pass on purchasing honey as we would never have been able to bring it back into New Zealand. However we bought a very tasty "no added sugar" fruit cake, and two "no added sugar" fruit pies, as a week of self-catering was coming up.

We then went to visit a cousin of P's, an elderly lady who lives in a ground floor flat at a large, expensive looking apartment complex set in very attractive gardens just outside the city centre. J mentioned that one of their relatives was commemorated in a stained glass window in St Mary's church so, instead of heading to the archives as planned, that's where we went next. Then we returned to the car with a diversion to look at St Chad's church where many of P's relations had been baptised or married.

By then it was time to leave Shrewsbury, so we never did get to the archives. Maybe next trip (if we win the lottery!) Shrewsbury to Sheffield is across country, and there is no obvious logical route. After much discussion we picked a route travelling on motorways most of the way - not the most direct, but it seemed the fastest. We headed as far as Telford where we stopped in the services area to have some lunch.

The motorway services areas are not something we have in New Zealand, where motorways are mostly routes through cities. We have nothing like the M1 which stretches the whole length of the country - our State Highway 1 is a normal single or dual carriageway road when it is away from the main cities, and it is easy to stop at shops along its length, or in the country for a photo shoot.

In the UK it seems it is possible to travel long distances and never leave the motorway, because if you need to stop for the night, you could pull into a service area, fill up with petrol, find a meal (probably a Burger King or similar) and book into a hotel for the night - all without really seeing the country at all!

After "lunch" - which always seemed to come mid to late afternoon - we continued on various motorways, around Birmingham, and east to the M1, then north towards Sheffield. Being Friday afternoon, the going was somewhat slow:



At Chesterfield we left the M1 so that we could approach Sheffield from the south west as that's the part of the city that my cousin M and his wife P live in. There was much less congestion off the motorway, but of course the speed limit is lower too. Eventually we arrived in Sheffield and located their house, thanks to maps downloaded from the internet to P's laptop computer. We had a meal and a pleasant evening talking about our respective families.

Next day .... a lightning tour of Sheffield and the Peak District, then we head south to Rutland Water for a week's stay.

Day 6: Shropshire

Before heading to Shrewsbury the next day, we headed back into the town of Bridgnorth to make a stop at the supermarket. We saved money on our travels by buying bread rolls and fillings to make our own lunches. I had never heard of Bridgnorth before our trip. It's one of the many small towns that don't figure heavily on the popular tourist routes - but many of them turn out to be quite quirky and interesting, once you explore them.

We had noticed the night before that Bridgnorth is a town of two parts. At the bottom of the hill is a river, with a bridge.



(All photos clickable for a larger image - I think)

Most of the lower part of Bridgnorth is on one side of the river, and when you cross the river you can turn left or right along a single street at the base of a high cliff. The upper part of the town (where the supermarkets are) is at the top of the cliff. It can be approached by road in a big curve, which we did. For pedestrians, however, there is a route up and down the cliff either by steep steps



or a cliff railway (which is actually a cable car). While P strolled around the castle walk



I took a ride up and down the cliff railway, just for fun.





When we returned to the car after taking lots of photos, and shopping, P was approached by a man who wanted to know why he was taking photos of his house. P managed to persuade him we were just camera-happy tourists intrigued by the architecture. Afterwards P commented that he thought he had better not mention that he was interested in the huge sag in the roof!

Some of the old buildings were very crooked indeed, but this one seems to have survived quite well



I'm intrigued by the buildings which straddle the main streets - obviously built way before today's volume of traffic was ever imagined.



A detail of the building above:



Oh, and in the Bridgnorth library I noticed a poster for a poetry competition. The theme? "Good customer service in Shropshire". Well ...er ...OK !!



You can find the winners here

We then headed off to Shrewsbury, where for once we were early enough to visit the information centre and have them locate us a room for the night. This saves time and trouble, but on the other hand they charge a little extra for the privilege (and deduct 10% from the landlady's takings, too). We went to settle in to our b & b., and then went back to look around the centre of Shrewsbury.

Shrewsbury has a very compact centre as it is almost encircled by a river. If you are driving, there is only one way round in a big circle just within the river, and very little parking. So we parked just outside the centre, near the bridge, and walked the rest of the way.

Shrewsbury is famous for its old black and white half timbered buildings - like the one that I photographed above in Bridgnorth - but the actual contents of the shops are quite funky and modern:



A detail of the market hall in the main square.



The inscription reads "The XV day of June was this buylding begonn William Jones and Thomas Charlton gent then bayliffes and was erected and covered in their tyme" - the date below appears to be 1596.

By the time we were heading back to our b &b, the sun was quite low, lighting up the cross on the top of St Chad's church



and making warm reflections of buildings in the river



where rowers were training.



We had a meal at the pub across the road from where we were staying, and retired for the night.

Next - further explorations of Shrewsbury, and we brave the motorways to head across country to Sheffield

Day 5: Bath

The next morning in Bath we packed, ate our "full English breakfast" (these were the probable cause of my gaining a couple of kilograms over the month) and set off for the carpark on the fringes of Bath which our landlady recommended. Car parking was a not inconsiderable expense over the month - just one of the things that cost quite a bit more than in New Zealand.

From there, we set out towards the centre of Bath, past the Jane Austen centre



and the hospital of St John. This hospital has been caring for the poor of Bath since the 12th century, and now has apartments for the elderly set around a very pleasant courtyard, which is open to the public.



A close-up of one of the flowers from the courtyard.



At a photographic supply shop this Roman centurion stood on guard:



just opposite the magnificent Bath abbey



where a busker was playing while his dog stood (or rather, lay) guard duty over his cap and takings.



Eventually we entered the Roman baths. They are about fifteen feet below street level and were covered up by later buildings, but were rediscovered in the nineteenth century. Entry includes the use of free audio guides which had not one but four sets of commentaries - the regular commentary, optional extra information, a children's commentary and an extra commentary by Bill Bryson. There are extensive displays and information on various Roman artifacts. All this kept us quite well occupied for several hours.





We then headed off to the other side of the abbey which fronted on the canal with waterside gardens.





We didn't enter the gardens as there was an entry fee (waived if you could produce proof of being a local resident). My zoom lens came in handy for taking photos from the road above. These are probably locals relaxing in the deck chairs.



Returning to the car, I spotted the modern counterpart of the Roman centurion:



I can't quite recall having lunch though I suspect it was mid-afternoon in the car park. We then set off north to the M4, then west briefly towards Bristol, and north again on the M5, heading towards our next destination of Shrewsbury. The motorways in England can be very fast - the speed limit is supposed to be seventy miles an hour, but everyone seems to drive at about ninety. They also drive very close, so I can understand why there are sometimes huge multi-car pile-ups. Sometimes, however, progress can be excrutiatingly slow. We started to see big flashing signs warning of substantial delays ahead, so we turned off the motorway near Worcester, and set off on smaller A roads north west through Kidderminster, and arrived at a small town called Bridgnorth as dark was approaching. It was only about half an hour's drive short of Shrewsbury, but it seemed a good idea to find somewhere to stay while we could see, so after a bit of hunting around we found rooms a bit out of the town at a quiet country pub.

Next ...we explore Bridgnorth, and travel to Shrewsbury

Day 4: Some Very Early Ancestors, and Some More Recent Ones

We made a quick trip to the supermarket to buy New Zealand wine as a "thank you" for our friends. It would have been cheaper to buy in New Zealand and take it with us, but that would have meant fitting it in our suitcases as we couldn't take liquids as cabin baggage. And our suitcases were fairly full, given that our chances of doing laundry in the first and last weeks weren't too great. After that, we made our farewells and headed east.

We were aiming initially for the M4, which meant we had to get through Reading and find the right exit. Our book of road maps was fine out of the towns, and the "Rough Guide" had maps of the essential features of some town centres, but Reading wasn't included. So we saw parts of Reading twice before we found the right road to the motorway.

Eventually we turned off the motorway and headed towards Uffington to visit the white horse. There are a number of white horses carved on the hillsides of Wiltshire, but this is the only prehistoric one. The others date from the 1700s and 1800s and are much more realistic in style. I always wondered how the white horse remained so clear - it is apparently because every year the locals have a "scouring" when they remove weeds and dirt, and top up the chalk. It is not, as I imagined, a chalk hillside from which the grass is removed, but some other type of earth/rock which was dug out and filled in with chalk. Apparently it looks best when viewed from the air, which is amazing when you think the people who made it had no way of viewing it that way. (On the other hand, the paraglider we saw must have had an amazing view).





It's about fifteen minutes brisk walk from the carpark to get close. I really enjoyed this, as opposed to slowly strolling around all day, which I find much more tiring than walking quickly.

After leaving Uffington, we made a petrol stop and then headed for Avebury, where there is a stone circle 500 years earlier than Stonehenge. On to Woodhenge, which we didn't spot immediately, and then saw a sign which described it as a circle of concrete markers which show the sites of the post holes. That sounded unspectacular to say the least, and time was getting on, so we headed off without searching further, to arrive at Stonehenge before the last admission times of the day.

Of the two - Avebury and Stonehenge - I much preferred Avebury. Stonehenge sits in a grassy field between two motorways. It is fenced off, and there is an admission fee to file dutifully around an inner barrier, listening if you wish to the free audio guide at numbered markers. The crows own Stonehenge - they perch on and around the stones, while the tourists are kept at a respectful distance.

Avebury, on the other hand, is a much larger circle. The stones are individual standing stones without the lintel stones on top that characterise Stonehenge. The circle is so big that a village has been built in and around it. The sheep graze among the stones, and cottages nestle nearby. You could visit free, except that there is a small museum with an admission charge, which is well worth it. There is also a manor and gardens with a further admission charge, though we didn't visit those. At Avebury I felt as if the distant past was blending seamlessly with succeeding generations, down to the present.







(No, no photos of Stonehenge, I have plenty but I'm sure you can find ones just as good or better on the internet somewhere).

After Avebury, we headed to Bath via the A36 (I think). (I know the numbers don't mean much, but if anyone actually wants to look up our route, it's the easiest way to describe it). Just before Bath, off the A36, is the small village of Freshford. My maternal grandfather's ancestors came from that village, around 1800, and so I wanted to take a look. Also, I had seen a comment in my family history research on the net that the main industry of the village nowadays is b&b accommodation for tourists, so it seemed a good place to look for that night's stop.

We didn't spot any b & b's - at least, we found one place that had a b&b sign but wasn't responding to their door bell - I guess they were a little out of the way to expect business from passing traffic. Probably we would have had to book by phone or internet. I enjoyed having a look at the village, though, which is now a conservation area.





The chimney is a village landmark - it belongs to Freshford Brewery (I don't think the brewery is still operating, though).

My forebears actually came from an area of the parish called Staples Hill, which is on the opposite side of the river to the actual village. The only houses we found there were rather grand (including the above-mentioned b&b). I suspect all the cottages where the agricultural labourers lived have long since fallen down or been pulled down. In the village itself though, some of the houses are labelled "cottage". I was beginning to realise that "cottage" in England doesn't necessarily have the meaning I imagined. "Cottage" to me implied a small single storey dwelling, maybe a couple of rooms, with land around it. In Freshford the cottages are mostly two storey, and all the houses touch each other in a long row, right against the very narrow street (no front gardens). It took me a while longer to realise that that didn't mean they had no land - they may in fact have quite large back gardens. Car parking though, is another matter. In New Zealand we have plenty of car parking in front of our houses or at least room for driveways to the back - this means our suburbs tend to sprawl much more than English ones, so it may not be a good thing when the world runs out of oil.

The bridge in the photo below crosses the river at the bottom of Freshford Village, near the inn. On the other side of the river from where I was standing is Staples Hill. The houses my forebears lived in may no longer exist, but they must have crossed this bridge frequently.



The village pump:



It was getting dark when we left Freshford. The first few b&b's we tried, approaching Bath, were either full or way too expensive. Then we took a wrong turn in the dark, found ourselves up Bathwick Hill, and by the time we found our way down we were on the other side of Bath. Since we were on a main road again, we headed towards Bristol rather than trying to find the centre of Bath, and found a B&b at a place called Saltford. I'm not sure if it's a suburb of Bristol, or of Bath, or just a place halfway in between. But anyway, the landlady was very welcoming, and gave us some ideas on where to find a cheap meal - we chose the Thai restaurant just over the road - and then it was the usual chores - download photos to the computer etc - before bed.

Next day .... we "do" Bath, and head north to Shropshire....