Tag Archive | Salisbury

Sauntering in Salisbury! Seeing the Magna Carta and Constable’s Iconic View.

Jul17

Friday, July 17, 2009
Salisbury, Wiltshire

The ancient town of Salisbury is in Wiltshire, west of London, an area filled with renowned tourist attractions such as Stonehenge, Stourhead Gardens, the Georgian city of Bath and Avebury. But somehow, I had simply not managed to get there even though its cathedral is definitely worth a visit.

Awaking on Stephanie’s sofa bed in her living room at 7.00, I quickly got ready to leave with her at 7. 30. We grabbed yogurt and cereal to go and were in her Lexus and on our way in a half hour. It was an hour long drive which gave us a chance to gab a bit more. It pleased me to see that though she has a long commute to work daily, at least she has no traffic at all–in fact, the drive can be quite therapeutic past fields and pasture.

Since Stephanie works in an industrial belt at Andover, she dropped me off at Andover train station which is just 18 miles away from Salisbury. I could have taken a bus from the station which would have wound me around the tiniest villages in Wiltshire and reached Salisbury in an hour and a half–or I could take the train which took less than 20 minutes (return fare was 7 pounds but there was some malfunction with the ticket machine and I ended up going on the train without a ticket but having to explain to the guards that there had been a problem).

Roaming Around Salisbury:
Luckily, Salisbury station is not miles away from its city center–which is often the case, as I have discovered. It was only a quick ten minute walk to the Town Center which you reach after following signs. It was about 9. 30 am when I arrived which left me enough time to explore the tangle of streets that lead up to the famous Market Square where medieval life centered. En route, I popped into the Roman Catholic Church of St. Thomas Beckett which also dates from medieval times. It is filled with marvelous mementos of centuries past including a beautiful Doomsday Painting on a wall just above the nave. This was plastered over during the Reformation but was recently stripped and conserved. I realized as I gazed at it how similar is the style of medieval painting with the more contemporary work of the Surrealists such as Hieronymous Bosch as seen in his most famous work The Garden of Earthly Delights. The Tudor Chapel with its dark ebony wood carvings was also quite atmospheric and is supposedly the prettiest part of the church. I deliberately visited this church first as I felt that the famous Salisbury Cathedral ought to be the piece de resistance of my day and would best be saved for last.

I have to say that I quite cherished every single step I took for I was fully conscious of the fact that this is my last day alone in the UK and indeed the last place that I would be discovering on my own. Tomorrow morning, I will awake for the last time alone in my bed for Llew is scheduled to arrive at 8. 30 am and my year of solitude, self-exploration and self-discovery will come to an end. The enormous pleasure I have had in doing exactly as I pleased wherever I pleased will also end and I felt a bittersweet emotion as I sauntered through the streets of Salisbury–delighted to have actually arrived there and met my goal of not leaving the UK without seeing this lovely city but regretting that Llew had not already arrived here to share it with me. Still, I took consolation in the fact that we will be spending the next two weeks together in two of my favorite places in the whole world–London and Paris–and it was on that happy note that I crossed The Mill on the River Avon where a lovely pub seemed like a good place to enjoy lunch later in the day.

Then, I was in the streets that radiate from out of the Cathedral Close, each rather enticing as they offered shops galore in which to browse. I examined all the charity shops (still looking for antique treasures) and was so pleased to find a Victorian cheese container–the sort for which I have searched for a whole year. These ceramic containers are very rare and hard to find–being a two piece item, one or the other piece often broke over the years, so that sets are almost impossible to find and when available cost the earth. I have seen only a few of these items in the many antiques markets I have scoured and most often they were so exorbitantly priced that I had to walk away. Well, imagine my delight when I found this set in perfect condition and for just three pounds! Now you know why I rummage around in the charity shops! They are a better source than any flea market! With my treasure carefully wrapped in bubble wrap, I walked out and then there just across the road, I chanced to come upon the Salisbury Antiques Market–three floors of individual dealers each displaying their treasures in glass vitrines–my idea of heaven!

Lunch at the Tea Room at the Top:
By this time, the irritating drizzle which had been playing all day developed into a full-scale shower, so it was with relief that I escaped into the vast environs of the market and browsed around the show cases. Needless to say, by this time (12. 30), I was tired and hungry; so when I saw a sign that announced a tearoom at the top of the building, I headed straight for it. I spent the next hour in the most delightful situation near a window through which I felt the slight spray of raindrops that splattered the pane. What’s more, the charming room was scattered around with a multitude of mismatched chairs and tables–some garden furniture, some living room quality finds. The menu was small but everything was very reasonably priced. I debated whether to get a pot of tea and a toasted hot cross bun (just 1. 50 for the lot) but then I figured that I really ought to have a more substantial lunch and settled for that most old-fashioned of British meals (and it was the very first time I was eating it in this country)–sardines on toast with a pot of Darjeeling. Thank you England for making a tea drinker out of me. On weepy days like this when there is a horrid sudden chill in the air and you wish you had worn a thicker cardigan, there is nothing more soothing that a pot of tea with lemon and honey!

A very lovely young girl called Jessica (I asked her her name later) served me–the pot of tea and a salad came free with my meal (all for just a skinny fiver–a true find in super expensive England). To my delight, a copy of The English Home lay near my table and I grabbed it to browse through while my meal was being prepared. I have a subscription to this magazine back home in the States and have dearly missed reading it, so I was thrilled to be able to lay my hands on a copy. There is a section in it called ‘Favorite Places’ and I definitely intend to write to the editor with a note about this incredible find–The Tea Room at the Top on St. Catherine Street in Salisbury.

Well, I spent the lovliest hour sipping my tea, munching my light lunch, spooning dressing on my salad and reading the magazine as I rested my feet and took a breather. The intermittent rain showers finally stopped and when I stepped out, an hour later, to walk towards the Cathedral Close, there was a lightness to my step.

But just five mintues later, it came down again–a very heavy shower this time which gave me time to dip under the awning of a very pretty chocolate shop where the handmade concoctions called my name. The place also offered a variety of sundaes and ordinarily I would have indugled–but on a day so chilly, ice-cream was furthest from my mind!

To arrive at Salisbury’s Cathedral Close, you pass under a medieval stone gateway and enter a place that has forgotten the passage of Time. It is a vast square with a sprawling green lawns in its center, surrounded by elegant buildings that reveal a variety of architectural styles–I recognized Tudor, Georgian and Victorian very easily indeed. In fact, the most striking of the buildings had a grand facade and it turned out to be Mompesson House (and Gardens) which is run by the National Trust. Now, of course, with my membership still valid, there was no way I would pass it by without nipping in for a quick visit–only it happened to be closed on Thursdays and Friday–wouldn’t you just know it!!?? So I gazed at the entrance in growing furstration having made the discovery that the 1995 version of Sense and Sensibility (I’m guessing this was the version whose screenplay was by Emma Thompson for which she won an Oscar–the film was directed by Ang Lee of Brokeback Mountain fame) was shot in here. Anyway, there was nothing to be done about it and I turned towards the other buildings instead.

Exploring Salisbury Cathedral:
Salisbury Cathedral has the tallest spire in England–though I have to say I could not have discerned this myself. Much of the side of this splendid building is encased in ugly scaffolding (I simply hate when the facades of major tourist attractions are marred in this fashion) and there was a Festival of sorts going on for a huge white marquee took over the lawn. It was just as well I had found other pursuits to occupy my morning for the cathedral had been closed to visitors until 1 pm. And it was a good thing I had a whole day in the town–imagine my disappointment if I had made the trip all the way from London only to be told that the Cathedral would remain closed all day!!!

Well, once inside the Cathedral, there are many attractions that catch the eye–but interestingly and unexpectedly, the choral groups that were participants in the festival were practicing their routines at the back and filled the massive space with the echoing grandeur of their voices–it was truly superb. A printed layout guide of the cathedral is available for visitors and with it in hand, I was able to see the mechancial clock–it has no face, still works beautifully and is considered the oldest clock in the country. I saw also the very modern baptismal font in the center of the church before I walked past the area right below the spire. In fact, the spire is so heavy that the supporting beams in the church have begun to bend beneath its weight and when Christopher Wren arrived in Salisbury in the early 1700s, he estimated that they were leaning at least 75 cms away from the center!

The Cathedral’s choir stalls, all finely carved in oak and the ‘Cathedra’, the Bishop’s seat or ‘cathedra’ that gives its name to the building were in fine condition near the altar. Follwing the printed guide and a rather nice human guide who was somewhat amusingly named Roger Bacon (!), I arrived at the picturesque Cloisters (which were never actually used as cloisters as the cathedral never had monks living there). However, it was meant to be a place to read and relax in and indeed that it was! I stepped through into the Chapter House which was built at the same time as the Catehdral though it has more modern Victorian stained glass windows that were restored when the original medieval ones broke–by the way, the cathedral was built in the early-1200s!

Up Close and Personal with Magna Carta:
So I suppose I ought not to have been surprised to discover that Salisbury Cathedral has an original copy of one of Great Britain’s most precious treasures, the Magna Carta of 1215! Yes, one of the three original 1215 copies is here under glass (the other two being in the British Library at King’s Cross in London, one of which has suffered fire damage and is illegible). This one was in pristine condition and together with the Domesday Book which I saw at Kew the other day, it really was one of the highlights of my travels in the UK!

I mean, just imagine having the opportunity tot gaze upon the original Magna Carta! And I mean you can get really close to it for it is merely preserved under glass. While most people expect the Magna Carta to be a heavy tome, I knew it would be a single rather large sheet–and indeed that is exactly what it is! In lay men’s terms, the Magna Carta (Latin for ‘Great Charter’) is simply a statement of legal demands that were thrust upon King John in 1215 by the barons to ensure that their rights would be protected and that the king would not overstep his powers. It was presented to King John at Runnymede between Windsor and Staines, a fact that is declared at the bottom of the document. It came into the possesion of the Cathedral as John’s half-brother William was associated with the Catehdral. He received an original copy of the document which he then passed on to the church. Somehow–don’t ask me how–it was placed for about 90 years during the Victorian Age in a cabinet and forgotten about, so that when it was rediscovered, it was found to be in such a great state of preservation! Unbelievable!

Written in Latin upon vellum (calf skin parchment), it is very easily read if one knows Latin! Various copies of it were produced throughout the 1200s with the 1297 version having become the cornerstone of the British legal system and having influenced the greatest charters such as the Declaration of Independence of the USA and the constitutions of so many Commonwelath countries (including India’s). So, for all these reaons, I was deeply moved to be in the presence of so important a document–like I felt when I gazed upon the Declaration of Independence in the Capitol building in Washington DC so many years ago–only that document was dated 1776, this 1215!!!–a difference of only half a millennium!

Well, back in the Cathedral, I took in its colossal proportions that dwarfed me as I gazed upon it and wondered as I have done in every cathedral I have seen (such as Winchester and Chichester, York and Canterbury) how it was at all possible for the laborers to create the sort of buildings they did in that time given the almost primitive nature of construction! Certainly they did not lack craftsmanship for the fine quality of the stone carvings is just breathtaking.

In Search of Constable’s Masterpiece:
I spent the next few minutes buying post cards from the shop as there was one more thing I wanted to do before I set out for the station to get my train back to Andover.

I wanted to discover the exact spot from which Constable painted his famous view of Salisbury Cathedral. As I got out of the cathedral, luck favored me right away for I caught hold of what looked like a ‘Salisbury Local’ and asked him if he could direct me to the spot “across the river” which is seen in so many postcards. It turned out that this man was not only a local but a knowledgeable one at that (don’t you just love it when people know their local history and enjoy sharing it with visitors?) and went on to tell me that there were various views and he wondered which one I meant. Well, I said, somewhat hesitantly, knowing that not a lot of people share my obsession with Art–“I’m really interested in the spot from where Constable painted his famous view of Salisbury Cathedral that is in the National Gallery in London!”

“Ah”, he said, delighted at my inquiry. “Of course. For that you need to walk straight ahead past the Close, go under the gateway, make a left at the pizza place, then go over a bridge on the river, follow the road as it bends past the Meadows which will be on your left. You will see a road leading to the railway station and on its left a foot path leading to another wooden bridge. Cross that bridge and you will see the Cathedral on your left in the exact angle in which Constable painted it”. My God! I could have hugged him! I mean imagine asking someone for something as esoteric as this and finding a person who not only knew what I was talking about but happened to know how to get me to the exact spot!

So off I went. His directions were crystal clear. While I was crossing the first bridge, I spoke to Llew on his last day at work. We are simply so excited to see each other again and we simply can’t believe that the one year that stretched out at us seemingly endlessly has come to an end! I told him I had spent the night at Steph’s and was at Salisbury and couldn’t wait to see him tomorrow in London. Then, I resumed my goal, passing by some of the most charming parts of the city and neat roads lined with lovely terraced houses and blooming gardens. Truly, there is nothing more beautiful that a summer’s day in England–even a rather cloudy one on which the sun is reluctant to show its face!

And then I was there. Across the meadow filled with black and white cows and a scattering of sheep and the River Avon on whose banks grew tall bulrushes that almost obscured the sight, there it was!!! I was so moved, so thrilled, so delighted to be there! The rain had stopped, thankfully, and I could gaze upon the sight that Cosntable so immortalized in his work. Yes, the trees have grown more lushly since his time and much of the Cathedral’s front facade is obscured by the luxuriant foliage…but it is still timeless, this scene, still filling the passerby with a rare serenity that made me feel so happy to be alive.

Leaving Salisbury:
Then, I was hurrying off to Salisbury station along another pleasant walk and arrived well in time to take my 4. 24 train to Andover. I waited there for about 20 minutes while Stephanie finished up at work and when she arrived to pick me up, I told her all about my lovely day. She was surprized that I had made such a great and full day of it for when she had visited Salisbury she found nothing much to grip her attention but the Cathedral and she told me that she wondered what I would possibly find to do there for a whole day!!! Well, I have to say that I could easily have spent another two hours in the town for there was so much to see and do.

Back on the Tube from Richmond, I reached home at 7. 30 which left me time to eat my dinner, check my email, make a few more last-minute calls to Llew and get to bed–as I said, alone for the last time. When I awake tomorrow, my life of solitude and contemplation in England would have ended and I know it will not take long for this entire incredible year to seem like nothing more than a dream–which is why I am so glad I have maintained this blog, for it will remain a constant reminder to me of all that I made of this year that was gifted to me from above and how much I appreciated this opportunity of a lifetime!

Freud Museum, Regent’s Park Open Air Theater, Hounslow & Richmond

Jul17

Thursday, July 16. 2009
London

Featuring prominently on my List of Things To-Do in London was the Freud Museum and I am amazed that I have waited so long to see it. Five years ago, this would probably have been my first stop in London as I was steeped in Freudian theories as I was researching my second book on The Politics of Mourning: Grief-Management in Cross-Cultural Fiction. With my third book under way, I have turned to other topics and they took predominance over all thing Freudian. Still, having become so familiar with old Sigmund’s writing, particularly those associated with Mourning and Melancholia, I simply couldn’t leave London without exploring his English hidey-hole.

Freud’s home is open from Wednesday to Sunday from 12 noon till 5 pm only. Hence, one has to carefully plan a visit to this place because it is not in the heart of London but in Finchley which I reached by Tube so as to arrive there exactly at 12 noon. I had spent the morning continuing to work on my Oxford lecture and my packing and the discarding of a huge bunch of accumulated papers I do not need to carry to the States. Minda had arrived to clean the loft but I had little time to chat with her today as I had a lengthy agenda of things to be accomplished.

A word about the neighborhood in which Freud made his home in 1938 when he arrived in London fleeing the Nazi invasion of his native Austria where he had spent a lifetime in a house at 19 Bergstrasse in Vienna: It is in an area called Maresfield Garden, a truly lovely street filled with grand Victorian single family (detached) homes wrapped in red brick and defined by a wealth of snow white architectural details. I passed front garden after front garden completely taken by the wealth of the neighborhood until, a short walk later, I arrived at Number 20 where the Freuds made their home. A large plum tree greets visitors at the front gate past a small and perfectly well-kept garden ablaze with giant roses.

It costs 6 pounds (3 pounds student concession) to tour the house which is spacious by English standards. In fact, Freud himself was quite taken by the proportions of it and wrote enthusiastically of its size in the letters he exchanged with his siblings who remained behind in Vienna (they were all eventually killed in the concentration camps). The tour is made superbly interesting by the audio guides that cost an additional pound (but it is well worth the extra expense). You walk through the lovely hall and into the study and long consulting room where Freud met with his patients. He was a sick and old man by the time he arrived in England (suffering from cancer of the jaw which required frequent painful dressing) and took on only four patients whose voices can be heard on the audio guide describing their sessions with him.

For me, the biggest surprise was discovering that Freud was an enthusiastic collector of antiquities and amassed a vast number of Greek, Roman, Turkish and Asian artifacts that are seen all over the house as single pieces as well as in groups neatly displayed in glass vitrines. I suppose I ought not to be surprised, come to think of it, for an obsession with history and antiques is to be expected from someone whose fondest psychological theories focus on people’s past as offering a key to their present and future.

The study also contains Freud’s couch, perhaps the most famous piece of furniture in the world–and, again surprisingly, it is covered with velvet cushions and handsome Turkish carpets which are also strewn liberally all over the wooden floors of the house. Also surprising is that the rooms do not look a bit like the consulting rooms of a doctor’s office–far from it. In fact, with the use of curtains, floor rugs, masses of objects d’art and skillful lighting, Freud managed to make the rooms look cozy and very comfortable indeed and conducive to the opening of his patients’ minds. We see the cushioned bucket seat on which he sat behind his patients and, therefore, out of their sight in order not to inhibit them from speaking by giving away his own thoughts through his expressions. The entire method which Freud devised and upon which his approach rests–psychoanalysis–required the very careful creation of an ambiance that would encourage the free association of thought and ideas which would then allow the psychoanalyst to make sense of them. It was a fascinating and very exciting space to be in and to know that it was from these premises that Freud was able to allow his revolutionary techniques to be made known to the world.

Indeed, though he had been practising psychoanalysis for decades from his clinic in Vienna long before he arrived in London, he took pains to see that every single one of his books and antiques was shipped to London (including the famous couch which was a gift from one of his female patients) so as to recreate the rooms as they had existed in Vienna. Hence, though Freud only lived in Maresfield Gardens for one year (he died a little over a year after taking up residence there), his London home is a far more authentic space than the house at Bergstrasse in Vienna which has also been turned into a Freud Museum but which contains none of his own possessions but merely a replica of the manner in which the space might have looked while he as there. And as we all know (from Freud himself) how insightful an analysis of our personalities and our beings can be gauged from the possessions that we amass, his ‘things’ are not mere ‘objects’ but keys to his own mind and his own personality–just as ours are. Interestingly, before the apartment was dismantled and its contents shipped to London, Freud had a professional photographer come in and take a series of pictures of his Viennese rooms–many of which now adorn the walls of his London dining-room– to give him a template upon which his London rooms could be recreated.

Upstairs, there is a room that was occupied by his youngest child, Anna Freud, the only one to follow her father into his profession and who specialized in Child Psychology having being taught Psychoanalysis by her father who actually psychoanalysed her–in a most unconventional and unorthodox move–for a father would never psychoanalyse his own child in contemporary Psychology. At any rate, it is great to see the manner in which these rooms have been preserved. They give us a superb insight into the mind and thought of this 20th century genius whose theories have influenced every single one of us in ways that we might not even realize. Such common words that form our daily vocabulary as “unconscious”, “sublimated”, “regression”, “negated”, etc. are all derived from Freudian psychology.

Amusingly, a young man entered the house and at the ticket counter, while purchasing his ticket, asked the young clerk: “Am I dressed OK for a visit to this place or should I be wearing a Freudian slip?” Unfortunately, his clever pun was lost on the clerk for whom English was clearly a foreign language! Instead, his groupies, two young girls, giggled in unison and prevented his joke from falling flat on its face.

I took a walk around the dining room with its grand Austrian painted cupboards (a collection amassed by Anna Freud) and the garden where I was delighted to find lovely small ripe plums strewn all over the lawn. The tree in the back garden had yielded the sweetest fruit and the birds hadn’t yet gotten them. With a handful of plums to snack on, I left the house, very pleased that I had made it to this temple of Freudian thought and had acquired a very interesting insight into this remarkable man whose work has had a great influence on my own writing and whose theories form the cornerstone of the literary analysis that I had undertaken a few years ago.

Regent’s Park Open Air Theater:
Then, I caught the Tube back and got off at Baker Street to meet Chaichin who handed over to me two tickets to see the matinee show of The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde at the Regent’s Park Open Air Theater. Now I had never been to this theater and thought it would be great fun to see a play there and we were blessed by the kind of day that seemed tailor-made for such outdoor activity. I had made plans to meet Jack, son of my friends Paul and Loulou, and our rendez-vous was the entrance to Madame Tussaud’s. It always amazes me how many hordes go through the doors of this London attraction each day. In fact, you can tell that tourist season has begun in the city when you start to see the line winding in serpentine fashion around this block of Baker Street. Having been to Madame Tussaud’s 22 years ago when I first arrived in London, I have never returned there and have never felt the inclination to visit it again.

Jack arrived bang on time and we made our way towards Regent’s Park where the theater was located. It was a short ten minute walk past the beautiful Queen Mary’s Rose Garden laid out in 1935, one of London’s best-kept secrets. Though the roses were not as stunning as the ones in the many gardens I have recently seen all over the place. I could not resist taking a few photographs, and with that done, we made our way to the lovely amphitheater where we found seats in the park surrounding it and sat down to chat for a few minutes before curtail call when we climbed the stands and took our seats.

The Importance of Being Earnest is such an entertaining Edwardian comedy that it is impossible to do a bad job of it. I had seen a very good version of it last March (2008) at the Vaudeville Theater with my friend Amy when she and I had spent a few days in London en route to Italy during my Spring Break. Lady Bracknell was then played by Penelope Keith (of To the Manor Born fame)and it was to see her that I had booked tickets then. Well, imagine my surprise when I discovered that Lady Bracknell in this production was played by Susan Woolridge–whose real name may mean less than her screen name (Daphne Manners) in The Jewel in the Crown! She made a very funny Lady Bracknell but both Jack and I thought that our favorite character was the girl who played Cecily (Lucy Briggs Owen) in such a saucy fashion as to be completely lovable.

The set design was rather ingenious though I have to say that I had my heart in my mouth every time the characters walked down that steep slope–I could see how gingerly they were doing it. One false move and they could have been flat on their faces. With a Pimms cocktail at the interval for me and a coffee for Jack, we stretched our legs a bit before making our way back to our seats for the second half that was equally delightful. Since it was Jack’s first time at the Regent Park Open Air Theater we were both very pleased that we had such fine weather and such a charming performance at which to make our debut appearances as audience members at this venue.

Meeting Relatives in Hounslow:
Then, I was saying goodbye to Jack and getting back on the Tube and heading towards Hounslow East where I was picked up at the station by Joel, who drive me over to see my Dad’s second cousin Sybil who hasn’t been very well for several months. Since I am leaving soon for the States, I did want to see her before I left and I was glad to find a free evening in which to fit in this visit–indeed I made the time to see her even if briefly. It was good to sit and chat with her and Joel over old times. We took a few photographs and then Joel was dropping me off to Richmond–a mere 15 minute drive away–where he said bye to me at my friend Stephanie’s place.

Stephanie was cooking us an Indian dinner when I arrived–chicken tikka with brown rice and papadams–and as we enjoyed it in her living room, she told me all about her recent cruise in Croatia which was a blast. I was so glad to hear all about it as well as catch up with other things.
It was about 11.00 pm when we went to bed. I was spending the night at Steph’s as she will be driving me tomorrow to Andover where she works. I intend to take a train on to Salisbury as I would like to see the Cathedral and the very historic town that developed around it, before I return to the States.

Wessex and Winchester Cathedral

Feb20

Friday, February 20, 2009
Winchester and Portsmouth

Holborn was stirring slowly when I took the bus along Gray’s Inn Road to King’s Cross and found my way to NIDO, our student dorms on Pennington Road. Despite being told several times that our departure was scheduled for 7. 45, six of my students thought it was 8. 15 am and did not show up. The coach left at 8 am sharp with six students missing. They took the train from Waterloo and arrived at Winchester where they joined us later in the day.

Moira Ferguson and Alice Coltenfeanu were in the coach with me as we swung out of London (past the suburbs of Chiswick and Putney) and drove through Hampshire. I realized that this was the route Stephanie takes to work each day as the signs for Andover/Salisbury began to show up on the motorway. We made one pit stop about ten minutes before we arrived in the charming but very tiny town of Winchester where we parked by the towering bronze sculpture of Alfred the Great, King of the ancient Anglo-Saxon kingdom of Wessex. He was he who united the warring factions of the neighboring counties. Though the Romans had made Wessex their base long before Alfred’s reign (having been in Wessex between 40 and 400 AD), it is he who is credited with making the town that eventually became Winchester a seat of power by creating mints all over so that the people would have monetary security as well as encouraging commercial activity on what is now the High Street. As I walked along the High Street, noticing its older (mainly Tudor) structures, I realized how many millions of feet had trodden these streets over the centuries and I felt awed.

There has been a Mayor of Winchester for almost as long as there has been one in London and it
was at his ‘house’–called the Mayor’s Abbey–that our walking tour of the town began with a trained guide. It was the Romans who redirected the flow of the River Itchen towards the outskirts of the town and the result is a number of fast flowing canals that wind around pretty gardens that were just starting to bloom. I saw more clumps of snowdrops and loads of primroses. The sun was out and a more welcome sight I haven’t seen for days as it poured its golden rays upon the cathedral walls.

It wasn’t long before we were entering the precincts of the grand Cathedral for which the town is famous (remember the song “Winchester Cathedral” of the 1950s?). No matter how many cathedrals I visit in the UK, they always come upon me with a mixture of surprise and awe–surprise that in the so-called Dark Ages (what an insult to the achievements of that era!) such a level of architectural expertise existed that could allow the construction of crypts that went way down into the soil bed and upon which the weight of so many thousands of tons could be supported; and awe at the craftsmanship of the carvers who then went on to embellish these structures with their talent. No doubt, it was these structures, speaking so eloquently of the religious ardor of the time, that kept so many of them employed for a lifetime.

The guide explained so many aspects of the exterior of the Cathedral and pointed out the importance of the Bishops of Winchester in their role as ecclesiastical prelates. We passed by the Bishops Quarters, lovely Tudor structures with their exposed beams and stucco walls, then went beneath the walls of the town above which is one of the smallest churches in the UK and the only one left in the country that is actually built upon city walls–the Church of St. Swithun-at-Kingsgate. Just past it is the home where Jane Austen spent the last six weeks of her life with her sister Cassandra. She came to Winchester as her doctor was based in the town to seek treatment for her illness that could have been Hodgkinsons or Addisons Disease (no one is sure). Her brother was Archdeacon at Winchester Cathedral–a fact that granted permission for her to be buried in the nave, one of the last burials to be conducted in the precincts of the Cathedral. There is a brass memorial to the author on the wall nearby. In the Fisherman’s Chapel, where 17th century Issac Walton has been buried, there is beautiful stained glass window referred to as the Compleat Angler window. Later, we went down to the crypt that was actually flooded (as water still seeps into the crypt from the water bed below) and saw the sculpture by Anthony Gormley of a solitary man brooding–these sculptures, of course, are cast from his own body after he wraps himself in cling film! My students and I had seen a bunch of his sculptures at Crosby Beach in Liverpool, a few months ago, when we had made a trip to that lively city.

Unfortunately, we did not have a chance to see the famous Winchester Bible as the library that contains it was closed, but we did marvel at two things: the choir stalls carved of oak which are the oldest in the country and were just exquisite in their details and the main stained glass windows which seem like a modernist design but are a result of the piecing together of the original stained glass windows that were blown out during the Civil War. The long nave of the Cathedral is equally imposing and since all the chairs were removed, the interior did not seem as much like a church as it did a museum! The best part about doing these class visits at this time of year is that the crowds are nowhere to be seen and you very often have the place to yourself for quiet contemplation.

Then, when we had said goodbye to the guide, I took directions from her and climbed the steep incline along the High Street to arrive at what are the only surviving remains of Winchester Castle built during Norman times–the Winchester Great Hall. The exterior is lovely (exposed black stone set within creamy mortar) as is the main portal and when we entered it, it was even lovelier. The mood was sombre and quiet which befit, I believe, its most famous exhibit–the Round Table of King Arthur. This is set high on the wall and must be quite immense in size for it looks huge though placed so far above us. It resembles a giant dart board and looks as if it were made yesterday. Recent studies have proved that it is not the actual Round Table though this one is at least 700 years old. A portrait of King Arthur adorns one part of it while the names of all the other knights are imprinted in a lovely Gothic script all around the circumference. The rest of the Hall is notable for the names of the knights who served the church through the centuries and for a magnificent bronze sculpture of Queen Victoria seated under a gilded canopy that was placed there to celebrate her Diamond Jubilee.

It wasn’t long before I grabbed a few post cards as souvenirs and a sandwich, a cheese scone and a chocolate covered flapjack and with this lunch, I joined my students on a bench overlooking the statue of Alfred and awaited the return of our coach.

A half hour later, we were on our way to Portsmouth. See my next blog entry entitled “Pausing in Portsmouth’ for an account of our amazing visit there.

Winchester was truly a lovely town that encompasses a great deal for the history buff and the architecture enthusiast to mull over. The fact that the sun was out on a spring morning made our excursion memorable and I left the place, astonished as its tiny size, but struck by how many elements of interest can be contained within so small a space.

Stonehenge and The Golden Georgian City of Bath

Sep14

Friday and Saturday, September 12 and 13, 2008
Stonehenge and Bath

In all my travels in the UK, I have never been to Stonehenge. Avebury many years ago, yes, Stonehenge never. So, it was with anticipation that I arrived at this ancient site of mammoth sarcen and blue stone hoping to grasp at some of the mysteries of its creation and its significance. I left disappointed–in that I was able to understand neither. However, the aura of the place, the fact that so many centuries after it was created, so many tourists stopped there to encircle the wide grassy path and make something of the structure intrigued me and by the time I was halfway through the circle, I was awed too.

In and of itself, the ring of Stonehenge can seem like nothing more than just that–a ring of stones. But when you consider the massive effort it took to get those stones there from faraway Wales, the end-product is breathtaking in the same way that the Pyramids of Egypt are. By the way, the story about Druids creating the ring and coming there each year for ritualistic worship of the elements has been disproved. However, there is enough astronomical precision in the way the stones have been placed and the way the shadows of the earth and the sun lengthen and criss cross one again at strategic points for us to know that this was not a spot chosen at random nor was the placement of the stones a mere whim. There is enough scientific evidence to suggest that ancient man had a method to his madness and this is what makes the site enthralling.

On a humorous note, it was fun to see more teenagers take pictures of the sheep that went about their business, i.e. grazing on the pasture that surrounds the spot, than of the monument itself! But, as they say, there is no accounting for taste… or interest!

Then, we were driving on the wide and picturesque Salisbury Plains past the Weston Horse, a great engraving on a white chalk cliff, to arrive in the golden Georgian city of Bath that is, like Rome, perched on seven hills. No wonder the Romans embraced it and built a splendid city here over 2000 years ago. As if the location were inadequate, the Romans who came from a balmy and sunny clime to invade this cold and rainy little island, felt rewarded by the warm and abundant waters gushing from the earth and promptly named their new settlement Acqua Sulis dedicating the resort to the goddess Minerva. Given their penchant for communal bathing, the town became a spa especially as its muddy waters were said to have cured King Bladud (father of Shakespeare’s King Lear) of leprosy. Well, the rest, as they say, is history, and Bath has a fair share of that stuff.

On the many occasions that I have been to Bath, I have always gone on horseback–well, not literally, but what I mean is, in a hurry. I’ve combed the main sights–the spectacular fan vaulting of the Abbey, the romance of the Roman Baths, the elegance of the Pump Room with its Jane Austen and Beau Brummel associations and have posed by Pulteney Bridge…and then I was off.

This was the first time, I stayed in the city long enough to be able to embrace it as the Romans did. And I left with an affection for the city that I had never felt before. Walking through its golden streets–golden because the entire city is constructed of the famous warm honey-colored Cotswold stone with which the city of Oxford is also built–I felt a rare delight in the sheer uniformity of the color and the style of the buildings.

The entire city was designed and constructed by the father-son duo of John Nash–since they both had the same name, they are distinguished as The Elder and The Younger. Their love of classical architecture and clean Roman lines is evident everywhere you turn, from the Royal Theater which Jane Austen frequented (where I felt so fortunate to get a seat unexpectedly to watch Vanessa Redgrave play Joan Didion in The Year of Magical Thinking, an account of Didion’s grief-management when her husband John died while her daughter Quintana lay in a coma), to the Crescent (a semi-circle of plush mansions) to the Circle, a perfect circle of colonnaded homes built around a park, to the Assembly Rooms where the rich and famous gathered to dance, discuss community affairs, gossip and make matches, to the fashionable Pump Room where they basically did the same thing while sipping the medicinal waters of the hot spring–which I did too and found to be foul-tasting but warm.

On a past occasion when we had arrived as a family in Bath, Llew and I had attended a cocktail party in the Roman Baths, lit by giant fire torches at night, and had supped to the accompaniment of a classical quartet in the candlelit Pump Room–this was part of the recreation provided by the organizers of a conference at the famous University of Bath where I had presented a paper. This time, I was a tourist, with map and camera in hand, clicking away at the many centuries of history and architecture that lay ensconced in that one space–the Baths–and at the many lovely arches, crescents, bylanes, towers, steeples, bridges (I actually walked on Pulteney Bridge, this time, only one of two bridges that is lined with shops–the other being Florence’s Ponte Vecchio).

I also visited the Jane Austen Center (I mean how can you escape from old Janie when you are in Bath?) and saw costumes from a range of films in which her novels and her own uncomplicated life have been portrayed. I went to the Assembly Rooms and saw the Costume Museum, a wonderful receptacle of clothing through the ages. I also visited No. 1 Royal Crescent, a home that has been turned into a museum created to look exactly the way an interior of a privileged home night have looked when Bath was at the height of its popularity and appeal.

I strolled in the same gardens that Jane Austen and her family loved, saw her homes on Gay Street and Queen Square, window shopped in Milsum Street (reportedly the favorite shopping venue of Princess Diana) and in the covered Guildhall Market whose heyday had been the time of the Regency. I had looked forward to browsing through Bath’s many antiques shops but alas, the recession in America and the fallen dollar has affected the UK’s antiques market so badly that dozens of the shops along Antiques Row have closed down. However, I did my share of poking around a few multi-dealer locations and saw nothing to catch my fancy.

I could not leave Bath without doing two things: tasting the famous Bath Bun, a roll studded with raisins and stuffed with sugar cubes and visiting Sally Lunn’s establishment which also happens to be the oldest house in Bath, dating from Roman Times–or so they say. Inside, you listen to the story of a French Huguenot woman, escaping from persecution in the 1600s who arrived in Bath and set up her bakery. She began to bake a bun that was unlike anything the English had ever eaten–brioche-like, this soft confection stole their hearts away and the Sally Lunn Bun was born. Today, you can eat in or take out–a bun costs a pound and a half–and was the best little souvenir I took out of the city. Oh, but I forgot…my favorite souvenirs of the city were the genuine old coins I bought at the shop run at the Roman Baths. These coins from a bygone Britain included florins and half-crowns, farthings and shillings and a whole set of genuine copper pennies, one each from the reigns of all the monarchs that have ruled England in the 20th century, i.e.Victoria, Edward VII, George V, George VI and Elizabeth II. I intend to set these in silver and create an exquisite bracelet and necklace for myself.

I could not leave Bath without attending a rugby match, for Bath’s team is famous and superior to most, and I was able to catch a match in progress while standing on the lovely Pulteney Bridge and watching the teams as they moved in and out of my line of vision.

At night today, especially on weekend nights, Bath buzzes with a plethora of young people from all over the world who frequent its many pubs, clubs and restaurants, then get home sozzled and swaying along its uneven cobbled streets. The low lighting reminds me of the gaslit days when equally sozzled young dandies returned home from the gaming tables and fell drunk in their beds, attended, the next morning by their long-suffering servants. I caught a glimpse of this side of modern-day Bath as well on the late night stroll I took through the city and I was grateful to return to the comfort of my bed at the Travelodge just off Broad Street, where I awoke the next morning to streaming sunlight and the start of one of the first truly sunny days I have had in England since my arrival here.