Sunday 16th December was a day where I discovered, or more had discovered for me, two treasures of a very different experience. One has lasted for over 1000 years, the other was an experience of light and sound in the grounds of another building from ancient times. Both will require research after my return home
Before I attempted to recover with a large bowl of hot tomato soup and a roll and then a good sleep, longer than anything like has been my custom, something of only a few minutes, sometime as long as half an hour but this evening of over one and half hours. Fortunately I was able to see the last episode of Cranford, having missed last week when I had planned to view the repeat. Some of the things I forecast came to pass. The return of the lost brother from India who was brought back by the soldier would be fiancée of the daughter of the former soldier now engaged with the railway. The socialist estate manager was revealed to have accumulated a vast fortune through which he fulfils two ambitions. The first is to immediately save the estate albeit on a temporary basis and ones feels there is a story to come here because it is a requirement that on the death of her ladyship the son is required to pay back to the money to the young lad he has taken a shine to, the son he never had following the early death of his wife and meanwhile one thousand pounds is to be devoted to the boy's education, less sufficient money for the boy's family.
There was one other story which completed its inevitable course namely that of the young doctor and the daughter of the vicarage following near disgrace over the misunderstanding of the valentine sent by a friends to the two younger daughters at the vicarage and a spinster woman who had set her cap at the young doctor. However the truth is discovered and the young doctor is able to save his bride from life threatening misdiagnosis.
There was time then to watch the last hour of the last Michael Parkinson some 600 shows and over 1000 guests and it was better than I expected, less sycophantic and with good humour. Another pat of my life has come to its end and the Peter Kay comment about it looked like cocoon as a treat. Now to Southwell Minster or is it Cathedral in terms of ecclesiastical status and the Ruffold Abbey Gardens.
One of my many failings is that I have not visited all the Cathedrals of England Bath, Bristol, Canterbury, Carlisle. Chester, Chichester, Durham, Ely, Exeter, Gloucester, Hereford, Lichfield, Lincoln, Norwich, Oxford, Peterborough, Ripon, Rochester, St Albans. Salisbury, Southwark, Wells, Winchester, Worcester, York, bit I knew they existed and where they are. Although I possess a copy of William Anderson and Clive Hick's the Cathedrals of England, there is one missing from the above list, one they I did not know existed or where it is located and WOW is the most of amazing of original ancient built I have encountered in my life.
I made two visits two the village this day. First I got as far as the coop supermarket in the midst of a residential area and one way system o the edge of town and after a stop for some fruit which was good, and puff pastry mince pies for later evening and the following days I retraced my route to celebrate the great speed say which tell your speed and if are below 30 add thank you and that nice touch means I will never go thirty or over through the villages and town again. And then on my second visit I was rendered spine tingling awe struck for there in the midst was one of the great spiritual architectural and historical treats this land has to offer. Durham and Beverly dominate the sky line as you approach, York is breath taking in its magnificence and Rippon also impresses and I accept that my reaction is partly from the unexpected but it is those two Norman towers at one end which immediately transport you back in time a Millennium. By good fortune the Choristers were practicing I was reminded of visits to other churches one in the South of France where an organist gave a recital while I sat in breath taking silence with the only other member of his audience and a rehearsal at the Pantheon in Rome, shared with other tourists although most appeared oblivious to the creativity unfolding. The Minster as it is know along with York and Beverley was created a Cathedral in later Victorian times with its Bishop of Nottinghamshire as well as Southwell and also functions as a Parish Bishopric.
So where is it? Between the M1 and the AIM, with Mansfield to the North West, Nottingham City to the West and Newark to the East, and up the Road Sherwood Forest Country and Ruffold Abbey.
My attention as a bone chilling coldness descended with the blackness of the evening was not the Abbey, later Country House with Mill but its ornamental gardens with sculptures, transformed for Christmas with sound and coloured light. Over Half a century before I remember the thrill of seeing the continuous blackness changed by street lighting after Victory in Europe Day. I suspect that many of the older children with their virtual reality video games and films will not have been impressed by the magic of this experience although afterwards I beat a hasty return for a large bowl of hot soup with crunchy bread as I had forgot to bring the cold defensive whisky for such an eventuality. The cold was in my bones but much hot tea during a restless night seems to have prevented a physical cold for Christmas. PS I did not take a camera as both experiences were spontaineous and natural with the record etched into my being. A camera is another day.
Before I attempted to recover with a large bowl of hot tomato soup and a roll and then a good sleep, longer than anything like has been my custom, something of only a few minutes, sometime as long as half an hour but this evening of over one and half hours. Fortunately I was able to see the last episode of Cranford, having missed last week when I had planned to view the repeat. Some of the things I forecast came to pass. The return of the lost brother from India who was brought back by the soldier would be fiancée of the daughter of the former soldier now engaged with the railway. The socialist estate manager was revealed to have accumulated a vast fortune through which he fulfils two ambitions. The first is to immediately save the estate albeit on a temporary basis and ones feels there is a story to come here because it is a requirement that on the death of her ladyship the son is required to pay back to the money to the young lad he has taken a shine to, the son he never had following the early death of his wife and meanwhile one thousand pounds is to be devoted to the boy's education, less sufficient money for the boy's family.
There was one other story which completed its inevitable course namely that of the young doctor and the daughter of the vicarage following near disgrace over the misunderstanding of the valentine sent by a friends to the two younger daughters at the vicarage and a spinster woman who had set her cap at the young doctor. However the truth is discovered and the young doctor is able to save his bride from life threatening misdiagnosis.
There was time then to watch the last hour of the last Michael Parkinson some 600 shows and over 1000 guests and it was better than I expected, less sycophantic and with good humour. Another pat of my life has come to its end and the Peter Kay comment about it looked like cocoon as a treat. Now to Southwell Minster or is it Cathedral in terms of ecclesiastical status and the Ruffold Abbey Gardens.
One of my many failings is that I have not visited all the Cathedrals of England Bath, Bristol, Canterbury, Carlisle. Chester, Chichester, Durham, Ely, Exeter, Gloucester, Hereford, Lichfield, Lincoln, Norwich, Oxford, Peterborough, Ripon, Rochester, St Albans. Salisbury, Southwark, Wells, Winchester, Worcester, York, bit I knew they existed and where they are. Although I possess a copy of William Anderson and Clive Hick's the Cathedrals of England, there is one missing from the above list, one they I did not know existed or where it is located and WOW is the most of amazing of original ancient built I have encountered in my life.
I made two visits two the village this day. First I got as far as the coop supermarket in the midst of a residential area and one way system o the edge of town and after a stop for some fruit which was good, and puff pastry mince pies for later evening and the following days I retraced my route to celebrate the great speed say which tell your speed and if are below 30 add thank you and that nice touch means I will never go thirty or over through the villages and town again. And then on my second visit I was rendered spine tingling awe struck for there in the midst was one of the great spiritual architectural and historical treats this land has to offer. Durham and Beverly dominate the sky line as you approach, York is breath taking in its magnificence and Rippon also impresses and I accept that my reaction is partly from the unexpected but it is those two Norman towers at one end which immediately transport you back in time a Millennium. By good fortune the Choristers were practicing I was reminded of visits to other churches one in the South of France where an organist gave a recital while I sat in breath taking silence with the only other member of his audience and a rehearsal at the Pantheon in Rome, shared with other tourists although most appeared oblivious to the creativity unfolding. The Minster as it is know along with York and Beverley was created a Cathedral in later Victorian times with its Bishop of Nottinghamshire as well as Southwell and also functions as a Parish Bishopric.
So where is it? Between the M1 and the AIM, with Mansfield to the North West, Nottingham City to the West and Newark to the East, and up the Road Sherwood Forest Country and Ruffold Abbey.
My attention as a bone chilling coldness descended with the blackness of the evening was not the Abbey, later Country House with Mill but its ornamental gardens with sculptures, transformed for Christmas with sound and coloured light. Over Half a century before I remember the thrill of seeing the continuous blackness changed by street lighting after Victory in Europe Day. I suspect that many of the older children with their virtual reality video games and films will not have been impressed by the magic of this experience although afterwards I beat a hasty return for a large bowl of hot soup with crunchy bread as I had forgot to bring the cold defensive whisky for such an eventuality. The cold was in my bones but much hot tea during a restless night seems to have prevented a physical cold for Christmas. PS I did not take a camera as both experiences were spontaineous and natural with the record etched into my being. A camera is another day.
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