Ripon, Markenfield and onwards

On our way up to the Dales, we stopped at Ripon. We haven't been to Ripon for many years and last time we were there, it was quite run down. It's much smarter now, although the shopping is more generic high street than it used to be. Appleton's the butchers is still on the market square and still has a tempting display of pork pies and black pudding; I'm sure they had a bicycle made of pies and puddings in the window for the Tour de France. I think the Tour must have boosted tourism, because it all looked great on the TV.

I know lots of people don't like fields of oilseed rape,
and I must admit the smell is sneeze inducing. But this
looks great, doesn't it?

The cathedral is in much better nick than we remembered, too. It's got a Saxon crypt, tiny, cramped and bare, which I didn't recall seeing before. it's dedicated to St Wilfred, who also has quite a few churches dedicated to him around Nottingham. However, he is rather unpopular with many people, as it seems to have been Wilfred who swung the synod of Whitby to the Latin church and away from the Celtic church. The Celtic church is, at least superficially, more attractive, so to some, Wilfred is more of a villain than a saint. 

The cathedral has a chapel with tombs of the Markenfields, and after the tour we went to Markenfield Hall, which is just outside Ripon.

Markenfield is mentioned in the Domesday Book (1086) but the present building is thirteenth century, and a lot of the farm buildings seemed to be fifteenth or even sixteenth century. It's moated, and in lovely countryside, and very romantic. It's only open for a few weeks in the year, and there aren't many rooms to see, but what there is is worth the trip. It's intensely romantic. The chapel is still consecrated and used for weddings. 

Moat and Gatehouse

The Courtyard - see the little turret

Inside - the hall

The utility room

I kept wondering what the little turret at Markenfield reminded me of, and on our return it dawned on me that there is a copy in Nottingham's Lace Market.

 There are two important Victorian architects in Nottingham and one was into medievalism. He was called Fothergill Watson, and later changed his name to Watson Fothergill. Which gives rise to the sort of straight faced and unfunny joke that people who have been married for forty four years enjoy - well, not even enjoy actually, it's just habit I think. Anyway, one of us looks at a building and says "Is that a Watson Fothergill?" and the other replies "No, I think it's a Fothergill Watson."  ROFL.

After our visit, we drove on to Kettlewell and our walking friends, and all in all, I can appreciate why Yorkshire is known as God's Own Country. Look it up: the internet is never wrong.

Wharfedale

We have just had a couple of days walking in Yorkshire with our walking club. We stayed in Kettlewell and walked over to Grassington and Littondale.  It was very successful, and good because we don't know Wharfedale as well as we know the more northern dales like Teesdale and Swaledale. On the last day as almost everyone else left, we had decided to do a classic walk, from Malham, past Janet's Foss, up Gordale Scar, over to Malham Tarn and then down the cove and back to the village.  

We've done it a few times before; it's a super walk and quite likely we won't be up there for a while - until we're beyond it, maybe. So although it had been raining heavily during the night and was still raining when we set off, we were still keen, even though the limestone is horribly slippery when wet. 

Malham Cove

Since we were up there last, the walking traffic has increased to the extent that the National Parks Authority has had to pave all the way to Janet's Foss and then again along from the village to the cove. But the views are still tremendous. Malham Cove was the site of an enormous waterfall at the end of the ice age, and the tarn exists because it is underlaid by slate, not permeable limestone. It's pretty bleak up there, but there's a large shooting lodge, and the house and the landscape inspired "The Waterbabies" - which I didn't like as a child and never read to my children. It's creepy.

Janet's foss

We walked to Janet's Foss  (it's all foss, fell and dale in Yorkshire - it helped us sort out names in Norway) and then on to Gordale Scar. The stream was - well, not in spate, but pretty energetic. We did pause for a moment but then thought what the hell, we're doing this. A group of Liverpudlians, men of around forty I should say, were also hesitating, but went for it. We did get pretty wet, because as well as the normal waterfall spray, it was windy. My trousers were soaking; Phil's trousers were reasonably dry, but he had one wet foot. But we were seriously pleased with ourselves when we got right to the top. 

Approaching Gordale Scar

The men go up the waterfall ahead of us.

The next bit was fine, but quite a lot of the way to the tarn, we were walking into a really strong wind which kept blowing rain. It was like walking uphill and pretty unpleasant. But as we reached the tarn it calmed down and we sat and had a coffee and a snack. We saw lapwings and oystercatchers, as well as the usual jackdaws. The time of year is great for flowers and there were loads of kingcups up there. 

Phil at the top. 

Then we set off to the cove, and fortunately the wind had mostly dried off the limestone, so we could enjoy walking on the limestone pavement and down to the valley.

Climbers negotiating the overhang.

 
At the cove, watching the rockclimbers, were the Liverpudlians, and, chatting to them, it became obvious that they had climbed Gordale Scar because they weren't going to be beaten by a pair of O.A.P.s, which amused us. 

The limestone pavement

The view from the cove.The stream emerges from the bottom of the limestone cliff.
The group of people are watching the peregrine falcons.

I've got to say, it was very nice walking with just the two of us, being able to walk at the pace we wanted and stop to look at things when we felt like it. 













































We dropped into a cafe for tea and a scone, but, even better, they had Yorkshire curd cake. It wasn't quite as good as mine - a bit dry - but they'd been generous with the nutmeg. And it was an excellent pot of tea. 

This year has been a beautiful spring, with lots of sun and blue skies, even if there’s also been quite a cold wind some days.  It’s apparently perfect conditions for blossom, and the flowers and birds also seem to be doing really well.

The bleating herd winds slowly o'er the lea.

Chee Dale stepping stones

We’ve had a couple of lovely walks in Derbyshire, once with the grandsons and another set of grandparents and grandchildren, in Chee Dale, where there is a lot of boy appeal – rocks, stepping stones, caves and such.  Luckily for us the children are much of an age and go to the same school, so know each other well, and enjoy the walks better for the company. We also had to take Atlas, and I’m afraid that although the children behaved perfectly, he rather let us down by running off. He was ahead with the children but kept coming back to check on us, and lulled us into a false sense of security. As a path junction came up as we climbed out of the valley, we realised that he had vanished. Panic ensued; but in the field crossed by one path, sheep and lambs were peacefully grazing, so we could be quite sure he hadn’t gone that way, thank God. We each set off on one of the the two remaining path directions and eventually found him. He was quite pleased to see us – we were hot and bothered and had to pretend to be pleased to see him. Then he rolled in fox pee and stank the car out on the way home. 

We also had a long weekend with the family in Shropshire. I love Shropshire; without having anything spectacular, it’s just perfect English countryside – or Welsh countryside, as this time we were near Llangollen. We’ve usually been a bit further east.

On the way there we visited Wightwick Manor, which is an Arts and Crafts house with a collection of Pre-Raphaelite works. The things I liked best were the William De Morgan tiles and lustre plates. I chose a red lustre ware plate with a design of a deer as my thing to take home. But the rooms were lovely, and big enough to carry the William Morris wallpapers and furnishings.

Wightwick Manor

Then we met the children and grandchildren in Shrewsbury and had a stroll round and along the river. On the Friday we went to Hawkestone Park Follies, which was completely brilliant. The park was laid out in romantic style in the late eighteenth century, and made use of natural outcrops of rocks, and what is believed to have been a prehistoric copper mine. It was quite a walk round it with many steps and climbs, views, an “Awful Precipice” (sic), and pitch dark twisty tunnels. We all just loved it. I’m afraid granddad made a habit of leaping out on people in the dark tunnels and succeeded in scaring the adults, but not the children. They seemed to expect nothing else from him. 

The "Awful Precipice", with tunnels beneath.

The next day, Saturday, was another glorious day and we all did a walk which involved walking across Pontcyssylte. Number three son and Phil are not good on heights, but obviously didn’t want to miss the experience,  and so we sent them on ahead to walk steadily across and they were fine. The footpath is only on one side and there is a precipitous drop with no rail on the other, and the trough is only perhaps a foot higher than the water, so on a barge, there’s really nothing between you and the drop. But on the footpath side, there’s a good high railing, and the main worry is stepping off it into the canal as there is not much passing space – especially if you meet anyone pushing a bike. But it was well worth it – the views are spectacular.

Ponycyssylte from the river Dee

Barge crossing

The view

Safely across 

On the Sunday, we walked up to the Rodney Memorial, which was 900 feet of ascent and was put up by the gentlemen of Shropshire and Monmouthshire to honour Admiral Rodney, who had made them all well off by getting the government to buy their oaks for warships. He originated the line ahead method of naval battle, but was heavily criticised for being more concerned with prize money than serving his country. As all the crew shared in prize money according to their rank, it may explain why there seems

to be a lot of pubs called The Admiral Rodney.

The Rodney Memorial

Anyway, it was a lovely walk through woodland, with streams, bird song and flowers, and a nice feeling of achievement when we all made the top.

On the way home we stopped at Moseley Old Hall, where Charles II hid in a priests’ hole after the battle of Worcester. It’s run by the National Trust and they did a really excellent tour. We thoroughly enjoyed it. 

Prague 2

On our second full day, we went to the Jewish Museum, which is not one building, but rather a number of synagogues, a hall for ceremonies and a Jewish cemetery.  The area was the Jewish ghetto for about 800 years, until Joseph II gave them civil rights and the wealthier people moved out. The synagogues display objects, with a theme for each synagogue. It’s really well done – the Ceremonial Hall has a series of maybe fifteen large paintings, dating from the late eighteenth century, acting as a sort of strip cartoon explanation of Jewish burial societies and practices. It may sound odd, but it was a fascinating look at a vanished world.

The most moving was the Pinkas synagogue, built in 1535 but largely destroyed in 1941. It has been reroofed and the walls are entirely covered with the names and dates of birth and death of around 80,000 Czech Jews who were murdered during the holocaust. It needs something like that to bring the numbers home to you; you simply can’t comprehend  80,000 without some visual representation. There are also drawings made by children in Terezin, sometimes with photos of the children, which are terribly moving.

The Jewish cemetery is the famous site, and certainly should be seen, but isn’t that surprising to anyone who has seen the City of London church graveyards. Or even Haworth. No wonder the Brontes had short lives, living next to a graveyard so full of corpses that the ground level is feet higher than the surrounding area.

Jewish cemetery

The synagogues were all heated, and Phil commented that it was ironic - he had to keep on his beanie, whereas yesterday in the churches he had to take it off, and they were bone chillingly cold, much colder than out doors. Still, at least he had better manners than a lot of the male visitors, who couldn’t be bothered to show a bit of basic politeness.

Afterwards, we went to St Agnes’ Convent. It’s Gothic, but very much restored – well, in fact it was a complete ruin. St Agnes was the sister of an early ruler, in about the eleventh century. It has a terrific exhibition of early Czech religious painting and sculpture. It was very sophisticated, and looked towards the Netherlands, France and Italy rather than eastwards. There was a brilliant set of paintings for an altarpiece from the fifteenth century, I’d definitely take those home.

Then we  had a gluhwein and some potato crisps in the old town square, and got changed for the opera again. We had an early meal in a vegetarian place – Czech cuisine is a bit heavy on the meat and light on the vegetables, and one begins to feel a little stuffed.

Gate at the end of the Charles Bridge

The opera this time was Tosca. There are surtitles in English and Czech, not that we need them desperately for either of the operas we saw; but when we went to see Fidelio, which we didn’t know at all, in Budapest, it was sung in German with surtitles in Hungarian; which I have to say was something of a challenge.  Anyway, Tosca was really good; excellent singers, and a well acted Scarpia. Tosca was pretty wooden, I’m afraid.

Almost all of the people we’ve dealt with are able to speak English, and English immersion schools are advertised. I suppose Czech is like Dutch, a relatively minority language, so you need a second one. Everyone seems instantly able to identify us as British, it’s a bit unnerving. Except for the lady who said “Dos vidanya” to Phil. I think he must have looked offended, because she followed it immediately with a “Sorry!”  It really bothered him. He wondered if he could really look like an oligarch. I pointed out that I was the let down – if he was a well off Russian, I’d be wearing a fur coat, masses of jewellery and be at least thirty years younger.

We had a bit longer to have a look at Wenceslas Square and saw the Jan Palach memorial at the end. I really like Prague. The painted buildings, arcades and narrow alleys in the Old Town are charming and the site is terrific. There are many interesting Art Deco buildings too, and lots of pedestrian only bits, which makes it thoroughly pleasant to wander round.

We tried to visit the Bethlehem chapel, where Jan Hus preached, but it was closed. It was open every other day in February, so we really had managed to pick a bad day.

The third full day in Prague, we took the metro to the Vysehrad fortress.  It’s the original castle, high up on a bluff over the river, on the other side to the present castle. As it was the fortress and palace of the early medieval kings of Bohemia, it has a mystical significance for Czechs. I wanted to go because “Vysehrad” is one of the movements of Ma Vlast.  However, it was a highlight of the trip, and we both really enjoyed it. 

Massive gate into the fort at Vysehrad

View from Vysehrad

Virtually all the medieval stuff  has been destroyed, but it was turned into an enormous artillery fort in the eighteenth century, and it’s now a lovely park, with lots of interesting features. The National cemetery is there and we found the graves of Smetana himself, Dvorak and Suk. I was quite excited. 

Smetana's grave

It was a glorious day, frosty to start with but brilliantly sunny, and spring like, with birds and flowers. We even saw a woodpecker up quite close.

The views of Prague and the river were spectacular, and the café did us a typically powerful coffee.

View from Vysehrad, St Vitus' cathedral and the castle in the distance.

We walked down off the bluff and got a tram to the Veletrzni Palac. This is where the National Gallery displays its collection from the nineteenth, twentieth and twenty first centuries. They own a fabulous collection of impressionists and later French art, including some striking sculptures by Bourdelle. There are more Picassos than in Malaga. I’m having Van Gogh’s “Green Wheat”. It was painted when he was in the asylum in St Remy, but apparently on a good day, as it’s calm and peaceful, as you can imagine by the main colour being green. Phil wanted it too, but I beat him to it. He chose a Monet instead.

There’s a very comprehensive collection of Czech art, and design works are also shown, with models and plans of modernist buildings from the twenties and thirties. It just shows how forward thinking the Czech independent state was; and in fact the Veletrzni  Palac itself is a superb modernist building, designed for a trade fair in the thirties.

The last night here, we went to a concert in the Municipal House. The concert was good (the Prague Symphony Orchestra and Valentina Lisitsa) and the municipal house is just brilliant. It’s the most amazing Art Deco extravaganza you can imagine, beautifully restored.  If you ever go to Prague, don’t miss it – there are restaurants, so you don’t have to go to a concert. It’s better than the astronomical clock, I’m telling you. And a glass of prosecco only sets you back a quid. 

Prague

This is our third attempt to visit Prague; each time before, something happened to stop us, so third time lucky. We're staying in the centre of the old town, just off the Old Town Square, which is lovely; on arrival we had a potter round to  get orientated and saw the astrological clock. I liked Death turning over his hour glass. You have to remind yourself how very old it is. 

Hotel Rott - a success.

Today, we crossed the Charles Bridge and set off for the castle. Prague is pretty busy, with large parties of young people milling around, and although it is quite chilly, we are not glad to be here in summer.

On the way to the castle we got distracted by Saint Nicholas Church, and went in for a look round. It is rococo; it's unbelievable elaborate, with a plethora of enormous sculptures all covered in gold. The ceiling was interesting because it's frescoed with a trompe l'oeil effect that was truly remarkable. It was genuinely difficult to tell what was a feature of the architecture and what was just painted. The organ was staggering; it was covered with massive golden cherubs and angels playing instruments. Phil and I wandered about muttering to each other.

"Have you seen that ? "

"Yes, hideous, isn't it?"

I'm not sure how much  church  visiting we're likely to do here, as they are virtually all rococo or baroque, and there seems to be a penchant for bones and reliquaries. We did make a rapid tour of the Loreto, which was not quite as bad as Saint Nicholas as a building, but had a treasury full of monstrosities, with unbelievable quantities of diamonds and other jewels. One thing the Loreto had, though, which made the visit worthwhile, was a statue of a crucified bearded lady. The sculptor used a real dress and a real hair beard. Apparently it was some saint who prayed to preserve her virginity, and got given a beard. She was crucified by her own father, for reasons which escaped me. It was horribly funny, as though Conchita Wurst had had a stroke of inspiration for a music video.

It was quite a haul up to the castle, but well worth it. All around are large palaces of the noble families, now galleries or government offices or embassies, and there are wide squares and lots of gardens. The old Royal Palace was the best bit; it still had the huge tiled stoves, actually working, which was nice as the cathedral was freezing. There is a magnificent great hall with a most unusual vaulted stone ceiling, very impressive. 

Tiled Stove

There is a replica of the crown of the kingdom of Bohemia on show. Because the crown is so old, the stones are not cut, but they are huge. Best of all you can see the actual window of the second Defenestration of Prague which started the Thirty Years' War. It's a long way down, they were lucky to survive.

Apse window, St Vitus'

St Vitus' Cathedral is Gothic and has a beautiful soaring nave. It's not too cluttered and for some reason it was not finished completely until 1929, so the windows are by relatively modern Czech artists, including one by Alphons Mucha, which was lovely, but I thought that all the windows were superb. The ancient Kings of Bohemia were crowned the kings here, and there is a special pulpit with a private way in from the royal residence. 

The "Golden Lane" consists of tiny houses, originally for the musketeers guarded the castle. Some are on display as they were used at various times, which was interesting s they gave you a bit of a course on Czech history.

In the evening, We had tickets for the opera (the internet is a wonderful thing!). It was Verdi's Otello, with Jose Cura in the title role, and Czech singers, Paul Vykopalova and Richard Haan, as Desdemona and Iago. They were brilliant, all of them. The love scene was piercingly beautiful.

We had brought` smart clothes for the opera, and it was an uncomfortable walk over the cobbles in high heels, which I don't like wearing at the best of times,  but the opera house is just at the far end of Wenceslas Square, so it was not worth taking public transport. And I still felt quite dowdy. There were plenty of men in black tie, and women in evening gowns, so I felt a day dress did not really cut the mustard. We might have been OK in the gods, but the seats were so cheap, by British standards, that we were in the stalls. Luckily, Vykopalova is young and attractive, and Otello is Meant to be older. Sometimes, though, at the opera, it pays to be further from the stage.

Half term trip to London

Just before Christmas, Phil spotted an offer for rooms at a new Premier Inn opening in London, close to Tower Bridge. He booked for us to take the grandsons at half term. We quite keen on Premier Inns – they make a big point of the comfort of their beds, and they are actually wonderfully comfortable: and they make a point of keeping the corridors quiet, too, so you do get a really good night’s sleep.  We’re not very keen on B & B; at the risk of sounding a pair of miseries, we don’t like having to make the effort to be friendly and pleasant to the owners and prefer the anonymity of a budget hotel.

When we got to the hotel it became obvious that lots of parents had also picked up on the offer and the place was packed with kids on half term. The boys really enjoyed staying on a hotel, especially the breakfast!  Thomas, the older grandson is more or less permanently hungry, and the younger one, Marc, had a massive breakfast and then no lunch to speak of, which was fine with us.

We toured Tower Bridge and its workings, and then Marc was tired, so I took him back to the hotel while Thomas and granddad went round the cruiser Belfast. They were shattered with going up and down so many companion ways, but I think it was the highlight of the whole trip for Thomas.

Looking through the glass walkway high on Tower bridge

H.M.S. Belfast

Next day we rushed them out and to the Tower, which they understood later, because we walked straight in to see the Crown Jewels, and by eleven o’clock the queue was all the way back to the gate into the Tower. Thomas liked seeing Elizabeth I’s pearl earrings on the crown, because he did the Tudors last year in school. They also liked the fact that the jewels have a history; they weren’t as impressed as us by the Stars of Africa. Perhaps they have less to compare them with.
There is so much to see at the Tower, too much really for Marc, and it got very busy indeed, so we gave up in the end. 

Welsh Guardsman. When the guard changed, the corporal
kept having to call out "Make way for the Queen's Guard" - and
dopey tourists still stood bang in the way.

Raven - this one seemed to like the tourists, but they have a wicked
beak on them - everyone had the sense to be cautious.

The next day was brilliant. We got the Docklands Light Railway to the Excel, and the took the cable car across the Thames, which  I highly recommend. It was a beautiful clear sunny day and the views were amazing, and the water in the docks was sparkling – it was wonderful. Then we had a quick look at the Dome, and then took a bus to Greenwich. Greenwich was great. You can’t fail to be impressed with Cutty Sark and the Naval Hospital, and the tide was right in and the river was so choppy that waves were splashing people on the pavement. That’s bound to be a success with boys. And on top of all that there was filming going on – a Michael Caine film, a follow up to Now You See It, apparently.

Canary Wharf

The Millennium Dome

Royal Victoria dock

 Then we walked through the tunnel under the Thames and got the DLR back.

We had time to pop in to King’s Cross to see platform nine and threequarters, or whatever it is – the Harry Potter thing. We would have taken photos for the boys, but there was a queue of about a hundred adults. I simply don’t get the Harry Potter thing in adults. Kids, yes – anything that gets them reading with pleasure – but really, not adults. And I speak as one who likes quite a lot of SF and enjoys many superhero films.

I have to say the boys were perfectly behaved and extremely good company, and that's not just because I'm their granny.

Stratford and nuclear physics

We were booked in to see two plays this month. One was The Shoemakers’ Holiday, by Thomas Dekker, and the other was Oppenheimer by Tom Morton-Smith.

The Shoemaker’s Holiday was very well produced and acted, with David Troughton as the shoemaker who ascends to be Lord Mayor of London, and a young man called Joel McCormack, who seemed to be pretty fresh out of drama school, as one of his cheeky and determined journeymen. I shall watch out for him in future. 

Oppenheimer is a new play written specially for the RSC, and we were beginning to wonder if we had made the right choice between that and a good concert in Nottingham on the same night.

Well, it was brilliant. It set out the technical, logistical,  (do you know that 10% of the total electricity generated in the U.S. was supplying the Manhattan Project?) and moral problems of the Manhattan Project so clearly, and the issue of surveillance, distrust and government control is so deeply relevant today. We were gripped. John Heffernan as J. Robert Oppenheimer, was wonderful, but there wasn't a weak link in the cast.

I’ve been down to the library and got a biography of Oppenheimer, which I fear may be like a Brief History of Time; while I was actually reading it, I understood it perfectly, but as soon as I closed the book, it sort of slipped away. So I read it again, with exactly the same result.

The play has also provided us with after school activities with the grandsons, who were fascinated by exponential mathematics, and how exactly the bomb was built and detonated, and why there wasn’t a crater at Hiroshima. Some of our google searches may look dodgy if GCHQ is watching us.