UK 2012 ISSUE 4

I had fully intended to write about Lady Jane Grey, a local lass, and her ancestral home, Bradgate Park.  However, we went to the grocery store this morning and I just had to share a little more of the idiosyncrasies which I continue to experience.  

Fries are chips, chips are crisps, cookies are biscuits and I'm not entirely sure what crackers qualify as, other than snacks.  But it is really potato chips about which I want to write.  I LOVE potato chips, they are one of my all time favourite snack foods.  I have been known to buy them, open the bag, gorge on them and throw the remainder away so as not to finish the entire bag in one sitting.  This was particularly a problem when Mick wasn't around, I have to admit that when he is home embarrassment would prevent me from being an absolute pig.  However in England there is a whole new set of possibilities . . . I have gone to the Walker website, the most prevalent brand of chips in the Midlands.  The following is a list of flavors they offer . . . Ready Salted, Cheese and Onion, Salt and Vinegar, Steak and Onion, Smokey Bacon, Roast Chicken, Prawn Cocktail, Pickled Onion, Tomato Ketchup, BBQ Rib, Worcester Sauce, Sour Cream and Chive, Chicken Balti, Lincolnshire Sausage and Brown Sauce, Sour Cream and Spring Onion, Cheese-Burger, Char Grilled Steak, Paprika, Mild Sweet Chili, Cheddar and Sour Cream, Sweet Chili Chicken, and Simply Sea Salt.  And in case you should be a little overwhelmed allow me to add to the confusion, as in the states there are other manufactures with their own wild and wonderful concoctions.  I wasn't really really thinking of the blog this morning but I am pretty sure I saw a variety labelled pickled chutney and cheese  as well as curried something.


So back to our history lesson, Lady Jane Grey. . .   Jane was the purported Queen of England in 1553, but for only nine days.  In truth, she was merely a pawn in an unsuccessful attempt to prevent the ascension to the throne of Mary Tudor, a Catholic.  Jane was born in the autumn of 1537.  Through her mother's family she was a great-granddaughter of Henry VII.  This is the connection that provided the conspirators a claim to the throne.  Somewhere around the age of 10 she became a part of the household of Katherine Parr, Henry VIII's last wife.  It was at this time she was exposed to a strongly Protestant, academic environment.   If you recall it was Henry who broke with the Catholic Church to be rid of various of his many wives.  Okay, we're really stretching my recall of English history, I may have to do some serious research to complete this blog.  

In October 1551, her father was created duke of Suffolk and Jane began to appear at court.  By this time Henry and Katherine are dead so she may no longer have had a place in the royal household.   Edward the VI was on the throne, ua boy the same age as Jane herself.  But in truth the  real power behind the throne was the Duke of Northumberland, himself not surprisingly a Protestant.  In May 1553, Jane at age of perhaps 16, was married to Northumberland's son, Lord Guildford Dudley.  Can you say ambitious, marrying your son to the woman who you are conspiring to make Queen.
 

Edward VI

 Northumberland was determined to prevent the throne from passing to Edward's half-sister and legal  heir, Mary Tudor, a Catholic. Northumberland persuaded the king to declare Mary illegitimate, as well as Edward's other half-sister Elizabeth and alter the line of succession to        pass to Jane.Edward died on 6 July 1553 and  four days later Jane was proclaimed queen. Unfortunately for those involved in Janes ascension, Mary Tudor still had widespread popular support (the general public was still more Catholic than Protestant) and by mid-July even Suffolk had abandoned his daughter and was attempting to save himself by proclaiming Mary queen. Northumberland's supporters melted away and Suffolk easily persuaded his daughter to relinquish the crown.

Mary imprisoned Jane, her husband and her father in the Tower of London. While Suffolk was pardoned, Jane and her husband were tried for high treason in November 1553. Jane pleaded guilty and was sentenced to death. The carrying out of the sentence was suspended, but Suffolk's support for Sir Thomas Wyatt's rebellion in February 1554 sealed Jane's fate. On 12 February, she and her husband were beheaded. Her father followed them two days later.

I could go on a little more, but this was not intended to be a lesson in English history but an exploration of Bradgate Park.  Suffice it to say Mary (aka Bloody Mary) didn't last long and her attempt to re-establish Catholicism was not successful.  In the end it was Elizabeth I who next took the throne.

So, back to the ostensible reason for beginning this blog, a walk in Bradgate Park.  Lesley, a friend from London was up visiting family in the area and came to us for the day.  We left Dad to his own devices and headed over to Newtown Linford for lunch.  The village's name originates from the relocation of people when the Ferrers family of Groby turned Bradgate into a deer park. The people who lived within the estate were moved to the "New Town" - or hamlet as it would have been then, at the ford of the river Lin. The village first documentation of the village was in 1293 and all the villagers were tenant of the Ferrers family and then later the Greys.  The day was rainy so we enjoyed a leisurely lunch at the Bradgate Arms and when it appeared to have cleared decided a post prandial stroll in the Park was in order.

Read the yellow sign! 

Bradgate Park Main Gate

We moved the car to the car park (parking lot), pulled on our raincoats and went of through the gates.   It was pleasant, walking and talking, looking for the local deer and saying hello to dogs.  There really weren't many people in the park as the weather really was rather unpleasant.  We made our way along to the ruins of the Grey estate which we were pleasantly surprised to find open to the public.  In all my previous visits it had been locked up tight.

Old John

Leslie was totally surprised to find these ruins.  She said she had been coming to the park with family for more than 40 years but they always went in from another gate, climbed the hill to Old John, climbed down the hill and left the way they had come. Just like so much else in the Midlands it is brick building with a slate roof.  If you just tried digging in Dad's garden you would understand why there is so much brick, there is no soil, just clay and the slate for the roof is also quarried locally.  Mostly it is just ruins, though you can imagine what it might have been.  We made our way to the Chapel, the only building that is still complete, to have a look around.  As we were standing in front of a mausoleum with a couple of figures recumbent on it's top and a plaque that had been totally worn away; complaining that someone really need to put up some explanatory signage, a park ranger came rushing in to greet us.   We got the lowdown on who they were, which I have quite promptly forgotten and then rather much more about the who, what, where, why and how of Bradgate Park, its patrons, problems and ongoing history.  He produced books and pamphlets, diagrams and genealogies and in general tried to impart to us all he knew and some things he presumably didn't really know.  Think perhaps he was just a bit lonely and needed someone to talk to, after all the park was very nearly empty.

The Ruins

We left a few coins in the donation box and made our escape while he pursued us pointing out landmarks in the grounds and suggesting other possible remains (the trout pond!??) to explore.  On our way in the Goddess had been with us, cool and windy but no rain, however our good luck was up.  We barely stuck our noses out of the Chapel than it began to drizzle, and then to rain, and then to pour.  We made our way down the hill, all ruts and puddles and slippy slidey mud, with no protection in site.  Even the deer had taken refuge under the few trees around and as the male had some fairly sizable antler we chose not to challenge them for space.   It was coming down quite seriously as we made it to the road that leads out of the park and there wasn't a bit of clearing in sight.  We shared a large tree with a couple and their yappy dogs for a bit, but ultimately decided to tough it out. 

It was a dark and stormy night . . .

Made our way back with dripping wet pant legs and shoes full of water, collected the car.  Back to the house, changed out of our wet gear and made a good old fashioned English cuppa, life is good.