England

Last night we did not make it to Stourhead, but did get to stop at the site of an old castle and chapel called Old Sarum. Now only the hill (outside Salisbury) and some ruins are left. It was closed, but most of the group jumped the fence to look at it. Brooke and I stayed out and I took a doze in the lovely grass (I adored the grass in England!)
We could not have gotten a better closure to our trip than the visit to Salisbury. The cathedral (the old Sarum liturgy upon which the 1662 Anglican liturgy is based, originated here) is my favorite of all that we visited on the trip, although we did not make it in time for evensong. It had some unique features. Most striking to me were the colors used, like the deep blue stained glass window behind the altar and the various tans and other colors blended in the upper windows. The vaulting in the ceiling down the center of the cathedral had been painted in more of the same reds, tans, and other colors, unlike some of the other vaulting we had seen that was predominantly white or gilded or one color. There were also pictures painted on the ceiling. I could see most of the organ pipes, some of which were incredibly huge. They still had the large wooden semi-circular cope chest, too, in which the vestments used to be kept.
After seeing the cathedral we found a pub for our last English dinner, called the New Inn, and established 1777. The food was great. I ordered the cottage pie (like shepherd’s pie) and a half of hard cider (I had hard cider for the first time in England). The pie, drenched in this great brown gravy, came with good green beans and peas on the side. I grew quite fond of that gravy.
After dinner we drove a bit more to Reading where we stayed in a hotel for the night. It was quite nice to shower and crash onto the soft bed. Morning came all too soon, but we had determined to get all packed and ready and beat the guys to the door, so we had to get up on time.
Finally, after returning our royal blue rental van and riding the shuttle to the airport, we are sitting at a coffee shop enjoying a bit of breakfast. Josh and Erica got searched during the checking-in process because they had letter openers in their carry-on bags, but all turned out well. I think Erica had to buy a small checked luggage bag to send her letter opener in. Our flight home leaves in an hour.

What a treat Wells Cathedral turned out to be! That, I think, was the most moving of the Evensongs we have been to so far, especially for me because the last anthem they sang was the Tallis “If Ye Love Me” that Mrs. Norbut tried to teach the choir in Carbondale a year or two ago. (I love to remember now, after having returned from England, those moments of beauty. They are rare.)
Also while in Wells we ordered take-away pizza, which, unlike take-out in the States, is more like gourmet pizza. Father Boonzaaijer also took the ladies out for drinks and sent Josh and Nevid away to get the food and drinks. By this time in the trip, I was so tired that any alcohol just about knocked me out! But I managed to drink my half pint and walk back to the park in front of Wells Cathedral where we ate and watched some native college-age guys doing flips and handsprings, and the like. Free entertainment.
We drove that night to Wales to spend the night with Fr. B’s seminary buddy Jonathan Isaac and his wife Caroline at their beautiful home in Cardiff. It was a nice place to stay, very comfortable, and the fellowship enjoyable, but the visit for friends too brief. I liked how their house seemed all centered around the tile floors—it seemed as if the floor attracted the primary attention, and all the architecture and furnishings coordinated with and complimented it. The Isaacs graciously served us meals and allowed us to take showers.
That was yesterday—this day, or last, we came to Tinturn Abbey, which is an impressive ruin on the bank of the River Wye. The setting is beautifully wooded and hilly, which provided us with a place to hike for a couple of hours or so and eat lunch. Afterward we headed out thinking we might make it to Stourhead Gardens and maybe evensong somewhere.

Avebury is a large henge near a long barrow and a mound, thought to have been used for burying the victims of pagan sacrifice. Many great, gray stones form a ring inside huge green grassy earthworks. This morning was pleasantly cool, sunny and breezy, just right for the walk around the henge. Chris managed to hoist himself (a daring breach of rules) onto one of the stones to a comfortable-looking seat before we all walked over to the small church in Avebury (St. Peter’s?) which began as an Anglo construction and was built over by the later inhabitants. Features of all the various building styles can be seen in this church.
As I sit on the sidewalk in Bath writing, it is rather warm, though a breeze is blowing. The houses are not as white as I expected them to be, which some of our group said may be due to the time of day we are here. The baths themselves are interesting, and still have water in them (which is green with algae), which we are not allowed to touch because “it has not been treated.” It’s rather touristy. I especially enjoyed getting to stand and listen to the live piano music in the pump room, getting a brief look inside Bath Abbey, and seeing the columns where one of the scenes of Wentworth and Anne is filmed in the movie Persuasion. We girls took each other’s pictures there.
We’re sitting here on the sidewalk by the Crescent waiting for Chris and Fr. B to pick us up in the van, after which we head over to Wells to see the cathedral there.

May 12, 2008 9:50 a.m. en route to Avebury

It is exceedingly difficult to sleep in a rental van when you have nowhere to rest your head.
Brooke and I left Robert and Ann this morning, and I, at least, will miss the pleasant chats we’ve been having! But tonight we will get to cross into Wales to spend the night with seminary friends of Fr. B.
Last night I was too tired to write an entry, so I will record now the events of yesterday. After the early Morning Prayer and Holy Communion at St. Paul’s-by-the-Racecourse, we walked down a few streets to the leper church. This is a tiny chapel with a simple line, and has long been in disuse. The windows are boarded up and it is situated on the edge of a vacant, ill-kempt lot that has a for-sale sign in it. I suppose the property to be rather useless, because no one wants to destroy this church, yet the land can be used for little unless it is cleared. The history of the church is that it is the place the lepers from the nearby Lord Leicester Hospital were allowed to worship, since they were banned from close association with other people.
After a few moments looking at the church against the rising sun and listening to some history from Fr. Boonzaaijer, we continued our walk through the beautiful town of Warwick (which, by the bye, is pronounced “Warrick”), to Warwick Castle. On the way we passed St. Mary’s cathedral where Holy Communion service was still in progress, and could hear the organ and choir from outside (so glorious were the strains that I would have entered to listen had not propriety prevented!). Warwick Castle proved one of the most “touristy” spots we visited, but nonetheless was a fun bit of ground to cover. We watched a man shoot a longbow. I wished he had shot arrows over the wall, just to add a touch more drama, but he said there were people on the other side.
Then we walked around the premises some more, up to one of the towers and along a wall, where we got great views of the town and countryside, through the castle house, down into the dungeon, up to another tower or two and through some gardens. The castle used to be owned by Madam Toussad’s Waxworks, so lots of wax figures demonstrated throughout the house what people might have done in the various rooms. The dungeon sent a chill down my spine, the realities of the tortures that happened there being so easy to imagine. An iron cage hung from the ceiling, in which live men would be suspended indefinitely, as well as a pillory high on the wall. No doubt, after many years of habitation by prisoners and rats, this damp stone chamber would have been a terrible place to be incarcerated.
We enjoyed the gardens, though the roses were not fully blooming yet. They kept a peacock garden, so peacocks roamed the grounds in stately, gorgeous featheriness.
Next we drove to Cirencester (pronounced variously by natives; I prefer “Sē-rən-chester”), stopping on the way outside Stratford-upon-Avon to see Anne Hathaway’s (who was Shakespeare’s mistress) cottage and the beautiful surrounding gardens. After a restful stroll through the park-like orchard, we popped over to an ice cream joint where each of us got a uniquely shaped cone with a unique flavor of ice cream. Each cone had a pointy cone shape, but the top accommodated two scoops of ice cream side-by-side (kind of like a double-barreled gun).
As we continued toward Cirencester after passing Stratford, we passed more delightful countryside—it is so green there, with the green of the fields broken by the white dots of sheep, and alternating with squares of solid gold, the rapeseed fields in bloom. Some distance up in the hills we stopped for about 40 minutes at Chedworth Roman Villa, an ancient Roman villa that has been unearthed outside Cirencester. In the town itself we were able to stop for a half hour or so also at a Roman amphitheater, which is still covered by grass and buttercups. One can still see the stairway and some of the other features of an amphitheater, however, and perhaps one day they will unearth the stone structure.
Because it was Sunday, we had some trouble finding an inexpensive place to eat and ended up getting pizza at a nice Italian restaurant (Subway and Tesco were both closed). It made for an enjoyable meal, although we probably overspent the budget a little. After dinner we wound back into the hills to a public footpath in a sheep pasture for evensong. Some of us ventured over the stile, and I, who was barefoot, stepped in stinging nettle. We sang most of the way back to Warwick.
This is all a record of what happened May 11, though I did not begin the entry until May 12.

We may get to bed a little earlier tonight, though not much. Brooke and I are getting the royalty treatment here in Robert and Ann’s home (their last name quickly escaped me) in Leamington, near Warwick. Fr. B had some way of contacting a small Anglican church called St. Paul’s by the Racetrack, in Warwick, and arranged for the three ladies to be hosted by church members, while the boys slept on the church floor. While the boys will be waking up perhaps a bit stiffer, hospitality has taken on a new meaning to me.
Our hosts met us at the church, having waited for an hour or more because we were late, and drove us to their home. Brooke and I both got our own rooms, in which Ann had placed baskets of bath supplies, as well as books about England on the nightstands. My room had its own sink, where I did our hand washing, and Ann took the laundry to dry in the dryer downstairs. She also brought up tea and biscuits (cookies) with lemon slices while I was in the shower—how wonderfully relaxing after four hard days of touring! Then Brooke showered and I talked with R and A downstairs for half an hour or so about their interests, church, daughter and grandchildren, etc. Oh, I forgot to mention, this brave English couple had hung several small American flags in the decorative greenery along the stairway in the downstairs hall!
We started this day by waking up an hour late, then scrambling around frantically to get dressed, packed, and to the train station by 7:05. By some miracle, we made it on the dot, and boarded the train breathlessly, yet trying not to bump the other passengers with our bulky packs. Someone muttered, “Campers!” as we walked by. Well, we were only the next step up from campers! The train took us to the rental place where we picked up the high-roofed, royal blue 9-passenger rental van, which would take us to the rest of our destinations.
From there we traveled to St. Alban’s, our first stop really outside London. How wonderful it felt to be out of the cigarette smoke and crowds of the city! After looking around the church for a while (notes previous), we (minus Chris and Fr. B) walked through the town in search of food. The open market proved most satisfactory, after we found the right stands, and in the mean time provided interesting visual stimulation. We did end up at a Tesco for drinks, as well. I especially enjoyed the butcher’s stand, the fruit and vegetable tables, and the fish stalls (and accompanying smells!)
Successful, we set out through the town again to find the park near some Roman ruins Fr. B had directed us to. We wandered around for a while, and finally asked a couple of nice old chaps for directions. Then we were able to find the park and meet up with Chris and Fr. Boonzaaijer who had gone to park the van near St. Alban’s cathedral.
From here we drove on to Oxford, the girls singing and the guys napping (again excepting driver and navigator). Here we spent the afternoon and evening, most notably stopping to contemplate the small bricked cross in the middle of the pavement on one of the streets, which marks the site of the martyrdom of Cranmer, Ridley, and Latimer. We visited St. Mary’s Cathedral and I admired the lovely organ, and made it to St. Paul’s in the college complex for evensong. The all-male choir overwhelmed me by its beautiful presentation of the liturgy. I believe we all heartily enjoyed the dinner at the pub as well—I know now that the plowman’s lunch is definitely a worthy choice from the menu, although bleu cheese is a bit stronger than the cheeses my American palate is accustomed to.
So! After yet another full day, we are winding down and preparing to turn in, with plans to be back at St. Paul’s by the Racetrack for Matins at 7:30 or 8:00. The boys will start without us if we’re a little behind schedule. After that, we head onward to broaden our horizons yet more!