The Badlands

If I said that I had been to the Badlands over the weekend you might imagine that I had been hanging out in an arid and rocky terrain....I am sorry to disappoint you, but the West Sussex version is a verdant meadow full of butterflies and dotted with the yellow and purple spires of Common Agrimony and Betony.

It was David's birthday and when I quizzed him about how he might like to celebrate his suggestion was somewhere in the countryside and not too far away. That foxed me initially, but then I remembered The Mens [from the Anglo-Saxon ge-maennes meaning common ground] nature reserve which is only a few miles from here and one we've never visited. A gentle 5k walk meandering along by streams and under the canopy of ancient woodland was perfect. It's owned by Sussex Wildlife Trust who monitor the site yet operate a non intervention policy. When a big tree falls it is left in situ and over time it becomes another habitat for a whole host of plants and creatures. It has over 600 fungi species and I can't tell you how much I'm dying to come across the ones with names such as Jellybabies, Sulpher Knights or Powdery Pigbacks. I don't expect to find much that's new at this time of year, but it was a pleasure to meet the ever so teeny blue Water Pimpernel growing in a damp area of the wood and discover the long fronds of the Beech flowers.

Although we are very much in the middle of summer here, the signs of the Autumn are beginning to show themselves. There will be ripe blackberries ready in a few weeks and the other berries are putting in an appearance. At the moment the Lords and Ladies looks for all the world like a set of traffic lights with its different stages of ripening all on the one stalk.

One never knows what one might happen across when wandering. Old tumble down buildings are not such a great surprise, but a ruined bridge turned out to be one that was built by the Canadian soldiers stationed nearby in WWII. It was never finished and it seems might have been put up for training purposes.

The perfect walk ended with a fabulous cup of coffee and shared slice of cake in the independently run cafe just up the road. Husband tells me it was just how he wanted to spend his special day.

Arilx

 

Rosy

 

This stunning moth is one of my latest finds. It's called a Rosy Footman and that is its true colour. All I have done is to crop the picture. It looks for all the world like someone has drawn on that black wavy line and dots as an afterthought with a fine nibbed black pen.

Arilx

Putting the boot in

I have read about the story of John Schorne who was the rector of North Marston in Bucks from 1290 until his death in 1314. He came to fame because of the stories of his abilities to conjure the devil into a boot and exorcise evil. In life he was a very religious man and various folkloric miracles came to be attributed to him. Although he was never canonised as a saint, many came to venerate his relics and it was believed that he could cure you of gout amongst many other ailments. There are various nods to his fame in the village including a holy well which has its own boot with a devil which pops up. Some claim that this is where the jack-in-a-box toy originated. If I am ever up that way I shall seek it out. However, my chance to see some Schorne related material arrived sooner than I expected with a surprise within Sherborne Museum.

This wall painting [c1480] was discovered under many layers of wallpaper in Tudor Rose Cottage in 1962. The condition isn't marvellous, but with the eye of faith you can just about make out the boot and devil. the modern interpretation by James Gibb gives you a much better idea.

You might quite rightly wonder what the link is between Dorset and Buckinghamshire, for that's not John Schorne you're looking at. That fellow is Richard Beauchamp who was the Bishop of Salisbury from 1450-1481. He realised that Schorne was quite the hit with the pilgrims and sought permission from the pope to have his remains moved to the newly enlarged and redecorated St George's Chapel in Windsor [Beauchamp was also the Dean of Windsor]. Sherborne was part of the diocese of Salisbury.

Being such a child I was totally entranced by the story and the fact that there was a model of a boot which had the devil popping up. The lady on the front desk demonstrated it and then asked me if I'd like her to make Old St Nick reappear as she could see that I was desperate to take a photo. A folkloric tale with props is always going to make me ridiculously happy😈

Hope everyone has a great weekend.

꩜Aril꩜

Don't Feed The Goats!

 If you were in a mountainous region you might expect to see agile goats climbing the higher slopes, but goats on the cliffs in Bournemouth on our day we spent there were most definitely not on my list of things I had planned to see. Here they are happily munching away on the vegetation. I guess it makes a difference to the more traditional donkeys which I believe are no longer a thing down on the beach? Times change and for the better in this particular instance I think.

The one and only time I've ever been to Bournemouth was as a teenager with my then new boyfriend. I remember it being a drizzly cold day, but we stuck it out on the beach and then went for chips afterwards. It was those heady early days of a romance which floundered a few months later. The weather and temperature this time round was fairly similar, but staying on the outskirts meant that we could walk in and have a poke around on our first day away. I'm glad that I've had the opportunity to go back, but the way it's struggling saddened me. That said we enjoyed our few hours there and it made a good start to the holiday.

Even as a very much confirmed land lubber I do consider myself to be a bit of a closet hutter and the town has the most fabulous set of rainbow coloured beach huts. Very pleasingly they run across in various shades of one colour before moving onto the next block. I photographed them all, but for your sanity am restricting myself to just the one. Below are a few more details from around the seafront area. The tiles are part of an entire wall which is dedicated in memoriam to those who have died from Aids. The quirky coastal themed sculptures of a couple of a series that  are on the fence which runs all the way down. Some of them had a bit of a Beryl Cook feel about them which made me smile.

If you are a fan of art and musems the Russell-Cotes gallery is worth a look. It has the most fantastically preserved rich and vibrant Victorian interior. Everywhere you look there are rich colours, layer upon layer of decorative detail, stained glass and stuff. If I'm being honest I could appreciate it, but it left me a bit cold. Just a question of personal taste. What did please me greatly though were the pieces of Pre-Raphelite art on display and this modern work decorating the dome in the cafe by Sophie Ward.

The one thing I did want to do was to go and seek out the grave of Mary Shelley. Helpfully you're given a bleeding great notice and an arrow so there's no missing it. With the connection to her husband's family coming from Horsham and Percy being born here, his spouse was a highly acclaimed writer in her own right. Her Gothic masterpiece, Frankenstein, was famously written after a night of ghost tales told during a storm in Geneva. Percy drowned in Italy in 1822. His remains washed ashore ten days later and he was cremated on the beach. However, his heart didn't burn [possibly due to calcification from the TB he had suffered]. It was saved and preserved in wine to be returned and then interred with Mary here upon her death.

We celebrated the literacy legacy of this famous couple by classily raising a glass in the Spoons across the road before plodding back. Well it had to be done didn't it and we were on foot after all🍻

꩜Aril꩜

On sacred ground

 All Saints Church in Alton Priors doesn't shout about its presence. It sits quietly in a backwater now in the care of the CCT with an uncluttered and simple white washed interior which exudes calm. There's no assault on your senses or any sense of overwhelm as you cross its threshold which has been my experience in some other places. I could feel my breathing immediately start to slow as I took a quiet look around. 

You have to seek out Agnes Button's brass memorial under a rug, but she was the wife of William who was an MP and aide to Thomas Cromwell. He outlived both his spouse [d1528] and Henry's chief minister who was beheaded in 1540.

In the churchyard it blew my mind that the yew tree is at least 1400 years old and that it continues to grow despite the fact that the trunk is now in two separate halves. I was left wondering who the enigmatic TF was who has left their initials for us carved within the heart on the gravestone.

This stunning etched window is the work of Frank Grenier and upon it you can see Woodborough Hill and the Alton Barnes white horse which is visible on the path running up to the site. 

This is a landscape of many neolithic wonders and this is truly what brought me to the church door. Set in the floor are two trap doors and beneath them lie sarsen stones. This one has a man made hole in it. There's no definitive proof as to why they are are there and one theory put forward is that they are the floor of an earlier building. The other suggestion is that the church is built upon a henge and that's the one I'm going with. To encourage people to move across to the new Christian religion it's believed that the sites for some churches were deliberately built over the places where folk were already venerating their deities. You can see this very clearly at Knowlton https://gnatbottomedtowers.blogspot.com/search?q=knowlton, but even within Sussex I've been to one church with a Bronze Age burial mound within its grounds and another one has been put within an Iron Age landscape feature. I find the whole business intriguing.

꩜Aril꩜

Floral Friday

 We wandered around Kingston Lacy earlier this week. I love these relaxed meadow borders. I'll write more when it's cooler, but in the meantime I hope you have a good weekend.

Arilx

Holiday Oddities

David likes to send photos through to his sister and friend of some of the oddities we regularly stumble upon. May I present to you his modest selection from our week away.

Exhibit 1

One bog standard red triangle warning sign for a narrow bridge plus ahem a U.F.O. These days though the correct term should be U.A.F standing for unidentified anomalous phenomena ( I knew that all my Fortean Times reading would come in useful one day) At the time we were to be found in a tiny Wiltshire village called Honey Street. If I tell you that it has a crop circle museum then you'll see that this fits perfectly with the hippy vibe of the place.

Exhibit 2

Just a completely random encounter in Bournemouth. We were just on our way out to buy fruit when we saw this. I have no explanation as to why this particular property is festooned with daleks and a tardis but how splendid. Looks like the dream home of your average Whovian.

Exhibit 3

This randomly appeared in the front garden of the house next door to where we were staying and then vanished again a couple of days later. Our pet theory is that the house was being cleared after students leaving. Hope so 😱 It's just a tad disturbing, but would be perfect for Halloween themed decor.

Enough of my nonsense....I think the heat must be getting to me🤣

Arilx