And from our visit to Alloway in April

Originally posted on June 1st 2014|

I'm posting this now, because the cottage contrasts strongly with Isaac Newton's Woolsthorpe Manor.

Last April we spent a week in South Ayrshire, near the Forest of Galloway.  This was one of the few days we didn't go out walking or cycling. 

Instead we made for the town of Ayr, with its long beach and busy if slightly run down town centre, then called in at the Burns Museum and Cottage in Alloway. 

As I'm not a Scot I knew little of Burns apart from 'red red roses', 'wee sleekit,  cow'rin', tim'rous beasties' and the custom of addressing the haggis in late January.

Harry in contrast was brought up with his dad's readings from "Tam o'Shanter".   And I have now read it here .

Tam crosses the bridge keystone just in time, but Meg loses her tail to the witch Nanny in her  cutty-sark.

The Brig o Doon

The auld Kirk

Mother Shipton's Cave

An expensive-for-what-it-is tourist attraction, though it claims to be one of the oldest in England!

The man managing the entrance is very helpful and enthusiastic, providing us with a treasure hunt sheet which is a bit beyond a four-year-old. 

The setting is superb, in the valley of the river Nidd, close to the soaring viaduct, with the steep rise of the town nearby.

Across the river chequerboard painted houses, flowery gardens, a parade of riverside cafés and boats for hire. Inside the park itself woodland walks, a couple of playgrounds which will provide some entertainment - though you may have to play yourself, even if you are over the age of twelve.

The cave itself and the story are interesting. Mother Shipton was the illegitimate daughter of a local girl who fled to the cave for safety, refusing to disclose the father of her baby.  The audio recorded story told for children is a bit scary for little ones, mainly because of the witchy voice.  The petrifying well is bang up to date with a racing bike to celebrate the forthcoming Tour de France Yorkshire Départ. 

We make our way along the path, past some tepees and this wagon, occupied by a dummy.

We walk past a log with coins hammered in. We make a rubbing of the old pennies.  Everywhere's a little muddy this morning.  

At the cave, Rose declares that she's not going to put her hand in to make a wish. And definitely doesn't want to listen to that witchy voice.  

But we do see a dipper flying in and out of a nest hole near the petrifying objects - mainly teddy bears which are sold later in the gift shop.  The dipper flies to and from the river a few times. That's the highlight for me.

No coffee shop open in the park itself, so I buy Rose an ice-cream, and then we go out into the lower part of the town, and walk over the bridge  and then along parallel to the river.  

The sun's shining now, so we sit outside one of the riverside cafés, before walking back. Lunch at a picnic table by the river, another half hour or so on the playground, and it's time to drive back to the city. 

Laxton, Notts

Famous for its surviving remnants of the mediaeval open field system,it also has a large church, which underwent some restoration in Victorian times. 

I'm not sure they're making the most of the tourist potential!

There are the mounds of a motte and bailey with a wide view. Access via a very muddy bridleway.

It's also one of the highest points in Nottinghamshire - not an upland county.

Sherwood Pines

Visited Tuesday 3 June 2014

Entry £4 per car.

Joseph and Adrian followed the Gruffalo Trail - there are playgrounds, a Go Ape activity, cycle hire and plenty of walks, as well as a reasonable cafe.

Rufford Abbey

Visited Monday 2 June 2014

Just a few miles up the road from where my grandparents used to live, but I don't remember visiting as a child. It was probably not even open to the public then.

Parking is free mid-week outside school holidays, there's loads of room for kids to run, and anything else is a bonus!  We spent Monday afternoon there.

The abbey began as a monastery, now in ruins, then became a private house.  

There's a rose garden with a heliochronometer - ok, sun clock - and very accurate it is, so long as the sun is shining.

The abbey building is almost like vertical crazy paving, with different styles of brickwork in a kind of patchwork.  

The main area, open to the sky has a fine collection of grotesque figures - more recent than  the abbey.

Below is the cellarium, with the monks' refectory area.

Outside we visited the sculpture garden and children's garden.

old dogs, new tricks still ticking over . . .

Yes, still truckin' along with Memrise and Duolingo.  Learning facts about music, stars, "famous art", and Spanish and a bit of Scottish Gaelic. Good fun. Little and often etc etc. Building up my cultural capital or something.

An affair of some gravity

The weather has been dull, uninviting and soggy for the past few days. On Wednesday we decided to branch out and tempt fate with a walk near Belvoir Castle. But the cloud refused to lift, and views were limited.

Belvoir Castle looking gothic. Photo by HH

My planned parking place looked horribly isolated and the ground sodden.  So we adapted.  We called in at the local pub - The Chequers in Woolsthorpe-by-Belvoir. Surprisingly they do sandwiches - rather superior ciabatta with feta and salad, all heated. A little more pricy than my usual lunch, but still under a tenner each including a drink and extra water offered too.
One Woolsthorpe leads to another, and this was not Isaac Newton's birthplace. He was born, tiny and premature, in Woolsthorpe Manor at Woolsthorpe-by-Colsterworth, twenty miles away. Not the original object of our outing, but it seemed like a good place to aim for.

Manor House and outbuildings

This is also the place where falling apples led Newton to think of gravity, and where he conducted various other experiments concerning light and motion.

The apple tree - regenerated from the original fallen trunk

Harry paying homage

No photos allowed inside the house - it has been refurnished with items from Newton's time, though none are the originals.  The rooms are pretty spacious, but it's definitely a home, and not stately.  Newton's parents were yeoman farmers - reasonably high on the social scale, and certainly not peasants. A big contrast with the cottage in  Alloway where Robert Burns spent his childhood.  

Highlights for me - the servant's bed in the alcove by the kitchen fire, which had to be kept alight at all times, ready to cook breakfast at some unearthly hour.
Then the copy of the parish register entry for Newton's birth.
Then the model of a mouse mill, and replicas of the telescope he made. Oh and the cat, which has a second home here in the daytime.

In this Manor House
Sir Isaac Newton
was born 25 December
A.D. 1642

Lots of info boards are spread around the outbuildings, and there's a cafe and a learning centre where you can play around with equipment showing some of Newton's ideas and discoveries. Lots of volunteers to answer questions in the house and learning centre. All run by the National Trust now, and not a bad £7 per person.

Herons

A walk along the Grand Union Canal was rich in heron sightings.

Bird, watching . . .

heron

under a tree

eyes us and the water

flies up

stitches the canal side in loops

wary as we walk

snapping

pauses, poised,

dips in to fish ,

then takes off, 

neat-legged

across the water

The biter bit?

but takes revenge . . .

Hard roads make the walking tougher?

We have been so fed up of ploughing, or skating, through mud, going ankle deep and occasionally more, that we’ve taken to exploring the world via the quiet minor roads in the area.

In some ways it’s been a revelation – so many of the roads are indeed quiet, though you need to keep your ears open, and be prepared for the odd vehicle. The roads have added a new dimension to my view of the great jigsaw map I’m building in my head. I just love the way places interlock. Call me sad, but I get a buzz when I cross a path I walked a couple of years ago, but from a different angle.

However, I think a nine-miler feels harder on the feet and legs when you’ve been walking on roads. Unless it’s my fitness level just now. . .

However we plan our walks, we often come across odd stories. Yesterday it was about Thomas Jarman of Clipston, a prolific writer of hymn tunes and master of the local chapel choir. He died at the age of 85, and is buried in the grounds of the Chapel at Clipston. Online searches revealed that he spent some time exchanging unpleasant verses with the local Church of England vicar, a Mr Bull. They didn’t see eye to eye about music and life in general. There’s some information here :

http://www.immanuelsground.com/composers/Thomas_Jarman.htm

and my silly take on the story in my Poedoodles blog.

The walk is described in my walking blog