UK 2012 ISSUE 6

Lincoln  Cathedral

Roof tops from the Castle

So, you may have noticed I left off in a bit of a snit a the end of the last Avatar, but I am recovered now; as is the laptop, almost. Took all of my “help desk” expertise and then some stubbornness to get through it and then some more grumbling, cursing and general bad temper. In the end, between running check disk, disabling or removing a bunch of programs and doing a system restore back to the beginning of time I got everything back except the ability to connect to the Internet. So I am  now  writing and editing photographs on Dad's machine, saving it to a memory stick and moving the lot to Mick's machine. Actually as I write this, the process is still a theory, yet to be tested shortly.

Castle Keep

Allow me to take a moment to address some of the comment I received on my last blog. I am a terrible shoe snob when it comes to what I will put on my feet when travelling in Europe. This may not be entirely sensible but has been true for more than 40 years. I will not wear tennis shoes, otherwise know as trainers or plimsolls in the UK, when travelling abroad. I know I am an American and all I need to do is open my mouth and it becomes patently obvious; but in my mind wearing tennis shoes, particularly white tennis shoes, is synonymous with being an ugly American. Besides, who wears tennies with a skirt, unless of course they are desperately trying to get some exercise in on a lunch hour . . . wahoo, that is not something I need worry about any longer!! So what have a brought this trip, please keep in mind this may seem a bit excessive, but I will be here for six months. First in the case were my hiking boots. I am thinking of leaving them behind when we head home and buying a new pair either back in Ashland, or perhaps here it I find something new and exciting. Second a pair of Clarks' sandals with lots of straps that can be adjusted for wearing with socks if necessary. A pair of brown Mary Janes because they are pretty versatile and look somewhat stylish. Last of all my Dansko boots, first off because I really like them for airline travel (they slip on and off . . . no laces or buckles) secondly because they are boots so they are really useful in the rain, and last of all, being black they look somewhat dressy and I can even wear them with a skirt if I put on a pair of tights (tights is the English generic for any kind of stocking that goes from toe to waist, not just the things that dancers wear.). Hey guys,bet that was more than you ever wanted to know about women's fashion. And just to be on the safe side, don't ask about what kind of a wardrobe I brought, the answer is the barest minimum and a raincoat. My theory is if you need it that bad you can always buy it (as if any self respecting woman needed a reason to go shopping) and I hate having to schlep heavy suitcases through airports etc.

What's for dinner?

Check out the Chinese  Details

The next burning question, what is a full English Breakfast, as served in a B&B. The Ivory Guest House in Lincoln offered four different kinds of cold cereal, apples, oranges, bananas and yogurt to which you could help yourself. There was a choice of coffee or tea. The tea came in a pot, the coffee in a French press, aka cafetiere. There was a pitcher of orange juice on the table, as well a selection of marmalades, jams and honey. For the cooked portion of your breakfast your choices were eggs, bacon, sausage, baked beans, grilled tomato, mushrooms, hash browns, and fried bread. Naturally this comes with white and/or brown bread toast. 

I have a friend who had theory that the English made toast once a year, in great quantities, to be stored and produced on demand. At the time it was always great thick planks of substantial white bread much like what is commonly used for french toast, toasted to total dryness and presented in a slotted device that held each slice upright and sat in a tray to catch the crumbs. The slotted holder and tray still are used but the bread, for better or worse is more like Kilpatricks and/or Oro Wheat.

Most of the choices are pretty much self explanatory, though English bacon is a creature unknown in the US. It looks as though someone might have taken a very thin slice of a pork chop only longer, and with very limited fat. They don't seem to smoke it and I'm not entirely sure what kind of curing is done other than salt. Indifferent would be my assessment though I expect there is some really wonderful stuff out there if you're willing to go looking for it, never mind what the price might be. Fried bread, something I haven't eaten in years (Mick won't have anything to do with it) is precisely what it sounds like, a slice of white bread fried in shallow fat. The first time I ever ate it the fat was bacon fat, oh so tasty, this time who knows. The texture was great, all crispy and greasy, the taste, well it wasn't bacon fat, that I am sure of.

Steep Hill Shop

I left off last time having gotten soaking wet while exploring the castle.  (It's really all right thought as we have terrific raincoats)  We escaped the rain and took up residence in the cafe to sulk over a cup of tea. Finished off the inside bits of the castle, not like any castle you might imagine up for Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella. They were mostly Victorian buildings built within the grounds as a prison and court building.  Next stop the cathedral. Timing was not to be our forte this afternoon as they were shutting things up for evensong.  Note to self and blog followers, what the dickens is the difference between a castle and a palace.

Castle Ramparts

Victorian Court Building

Steep Hill

If you recall I commented that the Cathedral and Castle were at the top of a very steep hill . Truth be told, it is probably one of the steeper streets I have ever walked, in San Francisco it would be one of the ones where the pavement (I want you to know that the computer just changed the word “sidewalk” to pavement and I had to put it in quotes to stop it from being changed.) is made up of steps. Wonder if the ladies in their four inch heels find it more difficult or easier walking on the slope. I imagine that going up hill is somewhat like walking on the flat, but going down that would be a whole other matter. Then if I really stop and think about it when I worked in the city (for those of you not from the San Francisco Bay Area, there is only one “City”, San Francisco) I used to charge up and down California Street without a second thought. Anyway, Steep Hill, as the street is called, is lined with tea shops, antique book dealers, very up market men and women’s clothing stores and gift shoppes. It's all been pedestrianised as has most of the City Centre and the pavement (in this case I am talking about the street surface) is cobblestones. All very picturesque in the sun and slippery and unstable in the rain. Boy am I glad I didn't live in a world of cobblestones and muddy dirt tracks, you get more than enough of that just sightseeing.

Lincoln Cathedral

Architectural Detail

Exterior Frieze Work

Like the shadows

The next morning was sunny and bright and after a substantial breakfast we made our way up the hill through a city park that made you think you were out in the country, all wild and unkempt, and back up to the Cathedral to have a look around. Mick did the tour that took you up above and into the spaces between the ceiling and roof and out on to the roof for a look around. Will have to snag some of his pictures. I did the downstairs tour and we compared notes over a really wonderful chicken pie for lunch. Finished off a couple of other museums and attractions before making our way back down the hill past a windmill. I have to admit, when I think windmill, either those things that they use to generate electricity or the dutch things come to mind. If you really think about it though, the things that you see up a tower in farm yards are windmills too. There used to be one of those on the ranch in Asti and it was used to pump water from the well. Anyway this was a dutch style windmill which had been one of, I believe, five that used to sit along this ridge. It really looks rather absurd sitting on a brick pad in the middle of a residential neighbourhood.

Ellis Mill

Back to our room and shoes off. We make good use of the tea things provided by our landlord and even did in a couple of packets of biscuits. If you know us, you will know we like to explore, so based on the recommendation made by someone during the day, we decided to find the Pye Wype for dinner. The name is pronounced Pie Wipe and we are told it is a bird. Now I have to admit whenever I heard the name I had visions of the Michelin Tire Man holding a pie in one hand and a dish rag in the other.  Whatever it is, a bird or a man with a pie, there is no way it is  spelled Pye Wype. Not only do we like to explore, we like to do it on foot . . . so by the end of the day we will have climbed to the top of the ridge and then down to the bottom of the valley. Fortunately for us, this being the end of two days of walking, our B&B is on the lower third of the hillside and not nearly so steep as the upper part of the town. Down we go, wandering along streets and alleys in an attempt to find the River Severn, and the footpath to our destination.  As we stroll along the canal there are many flat boats (think barge but don't call them that in front of their owners) often referred to as canal boats, which appear to be lived in. We enquire of a gentleman out walking his dog as to how far down the river the Pye Wype might be . . . his estimate, two miles. I'm a little dismayed, but game to give it a try. So off we jolly well go again, river on the left, houses, then a golf course and eventually fields of rape on our right. Two miles it wasn't, but neither was it a short little meander.

Sunny Days

Architectural Detail

To finish off our break we made a stop in Newark on Trent and explored several museum, and their cobblestoned market square. Would love to return sometime when the market is in full swing. Then off down all the country lanes to places with names like Plungar, Car Colston, Hose and ultimately Colston Bassett of Stilton Cheese fame.

Gotta love those arches

Post Box

Now imagine 100 foot wooden poles on top of those spires!!