Apples
Went to Beningbrough Hall at the weekend, where there's a large walled kitchen garden with quite a few apple varieties growing. This time of year they run an apple celebration, which seems to amount to little more than putting the varieties out on a table, and dusting down their cider press. Walking round the gardens a lot of fruit had fallen (and not been collected.) So I nabbed a cross-section of the rare varieties on offer (not sure if this is actually allowed...) Some date back to the c.16th (and are quite unpleasant.) Others are as good, or better, than anything you'd find in the local grocer.
Posted by monoman at 11:52 AM on October 28, 2008
Monoman on Tor (part 3)
I'd gotten the exploring bug out of my system so was happy to spend Thursday and Friday just bumming around Glastonbury. The weather was good; clear skies and quite hot, so it was a pleasure to simply relax at the top of the Tor, visit the abbey and climb Wearyall Hill (Glastonbury's second tor, where the famous thorn bush is planted.) I find the commercialisation of 'spirituality' in the shops on the high street fairly unpalatable and cynical. Most of the artefacts for sale are just overpriced tat. But it's always interesting to observe the denizens of the town, and understand the purpose of their being here; people visit out of curiosity, or to experience the atmosphere, be healed, explore esoteric and spiritual pursuits, engage in the counter-culture, teach and learn, get high / drunk, relax and unwind; and no doubt a myriad of other reasons. I can't tell if the place has a 'specialness' or not, but I think it's good that it exists. If nothing else it provides an antidote to the identikit, homogenous anytown a lot of people have the misfortune to live in. I overheard someone yesterday say that 'Glastonbury tells you what you need to know, not what you want to know.' I scoffed at the remark. But it stayed with me and, over the course of Friday, I did feel that a few big personal issues were coming to a resolution, and not necessarily in the way I'd expected.
BTW, the photo above is of a mysterious message found on the ramparts of Cadbury Castle...
Posted by monoman at 01:47 PM on October 17, 2008
Monoman on Tor (part 2)
Monday I walked from Glasto to Ham Wall nature reserve, a massive complex of wetlands to the west of the town. There were probably scores of rare birds on display, but I'm illiterate when it comes to 'twitching' and didn't notice. In the roaring afternoon sun I headed north to the village of Meare, which is embedded in low-lying countryside intersected by a network of waterways, or rhynes. It resembled the Cambridgeshire Fens, so I felt right at home, but it made getting around tricky; rhyne crossings were in short supply. I'd spotted some drovers tracks that I wanted to check out but couldn't figure out how the hell to get to them because the River Brue was in the way. In the end I gave up and followed the trackway alongside the river back to Glastonbury, which was a bit of a trial as fences had to be climbed every few metres and nettles waded through.
Next day I got in the motor and headed south, beginning with the painfully picturesque village of Compton Dowden. The OS map identified a nearby 'hollow lane', a byway, which passed through woodland; in reality it was more of a muddy bridleway, winding steeply towards the wooded summit of Combe Hill, but the pay off was an amazing view once I'd reached the top.
In the afternoon I did Wells, England's smallest city. Last time I visited must've been 20 years ago and at the time I thought it was the sort of backwater old people go to die. Since then, like so many other places, it's been cleaned up, redeveloped and gentrified to the hilt; the streets are now dominated by estate agents, gastropubs, coffee shops, trendy restaurants and 'artisan bakeries'. There's no getting away from the fact that the city is a lovely mix of medieval and period architecture; lots of narrow back streets and cottages nestling under the stern gaze of Wells cathedral, which is undeniably impressive considering the city is smaller than my home town of Bury St Edmunds. Cathedral highlights include the medieval clock (plus animatronic jousting knights); the strangely modern-looking c.14th bow-shaped supports, designed to stop the crossing tower collapsing; the chapter house, and the extensive tracery, especially in the vaulting, which is incredibly detailed. The moated bishop's palace next door, enclosed within a high curtain wall, is also worth checking out.
My strange enthusiasm for green lanes and old trackways is well documented, and the OS map revealed a whopper just north of Wookey Hole: Dursdon Drove. It was 6pm but I couldn't resist, so drove the 15 mins or so out of Wells, found the entrance and started walking. I liked that fact that, whilst everyone was rushing home to their dinner, I was yomping across a deserted hill-top, 265m above sea level. As the name suggests, the track was originally a drover's way. Dry-stone walls either side marked its original width, a good 30ft, but hedgerows had been planted since then; now it's just wide enough for a tractor and still used by vehicles from the few farms that lined the route. The track ended at the hill's highest point, with stunning uninterrupted views south across the Somerset Levels; I could even spot Glastonbury Tor in the distance, 13 or so miles away.
Wednesday my dogs were barking, as they say, so I eased off on the walking and drove to Cadbury Castle. Again, more stunning views from the top of this Iron Age hill fort / alleged site of the original Camelot. I spent about an hour just sitting, listening to the iPod (Sunn O))) if you must know) and absorbing the view.
In the afternoon I returned to Compton Dundon, entirely because of a lane I'd spotted earlier in the week which was heaving with bramble bushes. I've honestly never seen so many ripe blackberries in one place; it was easy pickings, despite being so late in the year. And the varieties were numerous. Even so, I picked only a fraction of the (apparently) 500 microspecies in the UK. After another trip to Wells to collect provisions (including a rare bottle of Somerset cider brandy, matured in oak casks retrieved from the shipwreck of the MSC Napoli which sank off the Devonshire coast in 2007), I went back to the cottage and made two blackberry and apple pies: one for the Knight family, and one for me (which lasted me three whole days!)
Monoman on Tor (part 1)
While Bron was away cycling with her mother I decided to head down to Somerset for a week. I'd wanted to re-visit Somerset for a while and get to grips with variety of countryside on offer (Mendip hills to the north, coastline, and Somerset levels to the south.) In terms of vacation I'm very low-maintenance - give me a car and an OS map and I'm happy; getting under the skin of a place, bozzing around country lanes and uncovering their secrets is what I like. I'd rather stay in one place and get to know it really well, than travel widely but only get a superficial impression of each destination.
I stayed in Glastonbury. Leaving all the new age bullshit to one side, it's a good base geographically, has a few decent shops / pubs / eateries, and a very laid-back atmosphere. Unlike a lot of places, you can basically do what you like and be who you want without getting hassle. I stayed in one of a row of mews cottages, newly-redeveloped and bang in the centre of town. The husband and wife team who run the operation - Louise and Bill Knight - are extremely generous and welcoming (more of this later); I had milk, bread, eggs, tea and coffee waiting for me. The cottage itself was tastefully decorated and decked out to a high standard.
First afternoon I did what any self-respecting holidaying male would, namely drank beer. Sitting outside in the sun, getting mildly inebriated and watching the people go by was a good way to soak up the 'vibes' and relax into the holiday spirit.
My luck was holding weather-wise. Next day I scaled the Tor and lay in the sun as truth-seekers sat and meditated or ambled aimlessly with dowsing rods. Whether Glastonbury Tor really is the Sacred Omphalos of a West Country Elisium or not, I don't know. But it does have a uniquely calming effect. I must've sat absorbing the views for a couple of hours before trotting back down into town.
En route I came to the aid of a woman whose car had a puncture (by 'come to the aid of' I mean 'stand watching while a man from the local Buddhist ashram on a weekend vow of silence swapped the wheel over'.) It turned out the woman had left home seven years ago and still not returned. Instead she'd traveled the length and breadth of the UK with her stuff shoved into the back of a Peugeot 205, and Glastonbury was her favourite place.
When I got back to my cottage, Bill was sitting outside with a glass of red wine and a pack of ciggies. He invited me to join him, so I grabbed my bottle of half-price Tesco 2002 Rioja and did just that. Five hours and many more bottles of wine later, it was time to call it a day. We'd sat in his garden discussing a whole range of topics 'man-to-man' as he put it, while Louise delivered us plates of delicious food and frolicked with their young son in the yard.
