Tuesday - Ledbury

Aimée and Steve got up at what we in the Army called ‘Zero dark thirty’ (real early!) and took off toward the railroad station to catch their 7 o’clock train to London. They’re due back at about 8 tomorrow night. Sue Anne and Bruce slept in! Such a treat it was.

Today we had a ‘petit déjeuner’ rather than a full English breakfast because we slept late. And then a short walk. The town was back to its normal weekday schedule, though traffic was a bit impeded by the carnival equipment that would remain in place for at least another day, and parking was tight. We just left our car alone, out at the edge of town. Bruce found the Internet terminals at the library and did a quick check of e-mail. They weren’t configured with access to the USB ports, nor was there wireless service, so it wasn’t a suitable setup for posting the blog.

Our friends Rosemarie and Peter Shortell arrived from Cheltenham shortly thereafter. A major part of our initial conversation was an update on the activities of our children (two in each family) and grandchildren (three for each of us, including one in each family named Wyatt James!!). Then we walked a few steps over to the Prince of Wales where our guests treated us to lunch. Fish and chips with mushy peas (Yes, that’s what they’re called.) for three of us and sausage for Peter, followed by tasty desserts including the classic Spotted Dick. (Be prepared for a chuckle if you click the link.) Sue Anne had boozy berries with blackberry ice cream. Yes, that’s what it was called on the menu, and that’s what it was. So good.

Despite its proximity to Cheltenham, Ledbury was a new experience for our friends, so we spent a good bit of the afternoon wandering around town, taking in the sights, stopping into shops, and chatting about subjects too numerous to recall in their entirety. Rosemarie and Sue Anne are both artists, and Peter and Bruce have strong professional connections and a keen interest in things scientific and mathematical, so the conversation flowed easily across numerous topics.

We said goodbye with a promise to meet again when we’re in Cheltenham on Friday. We rested, then wandered about town a bit more. Bruce made a fruitless trip to the Internet café and ice cream shop, as it had already closed for the day at 5. A light supper in our kitchen accompanied by a pint of Theakston’s Old Peculiar. Such an odd name. The seal on the label says “The Official of the Peculiar of Masham (a place in North Yorkshire),” so we believe that it refers to an ancient personage of some sort, church or state or perhaps both as they were once largely indistinguishable, but it’s also not an inappropriate description for the brew itself. Strong and a bit quirky.

The bell ringers were at it again tonight, practicing for next Sunday or perhaps for a competition. It was a very different set of changes from what we had heard on Sunday, these with more of a ‘Joy to the World’ descending scale sound to the notes.

Tomorrow we’ll join our friends Bob and Phyll Shewan for lunch at their local pub, the Apple Tree in Woodmancote. Plans for the rest of the day are still loose but will probably entail a bit of reacquainting ourselves with the town where we lived for three wonderful years when our kids were young (and we were younger). We’ll get Aimée and Steve to sit down at the keyboard when they return and tell us all about their trip to London.

Tuesday - October 14
We didn’t go anywhere today!

Monday - Ledbury, Stratford

I’ll start by noting that I forgot to post the remainder of the blog from Friday (the trip from Helensburgh to Chester) when I posted Saturday’s and Sunday’s at the coffee shop in Stratford today. It’s there now, so scroll down if you’d like to take a look. There have also been a few small updates to Saturday and Sunday, the result of a bit more time to reflect on our doings and impressions.

Today started with a trip to the Ledbury railroad station to check the schedule for Aimée and Steve’s trip to London tomorrow. The train leaves really early in the morning! They’ll stay overnight in London tomorrow, coming back to Ledbury on Wednesday evening.

Then we drove down through the Vale (valley) of Evesham, a noted fruit growing area, to the village of Beckford, home of Beckford Silk. This company was started about 30 years ago by a couple living in the town, both interested in rediscovering old techniques for dying and printing of silk, and in developing new ones. Sue Anne had been there on a tour many years ago, bought two scarves, and was eager to get back, as was Aimée once she learned of the place.

The factory turned out to be in a state of transition. They had moved a while ago to a custom built (‘purpose built’ in British) building on the outskirts of the village, but they have currently taken some aspects of production back to their location in town while they expand and reconfigure. As a result they weren’t offering organized tours, but they kindly let us visit the printing room upstairs on our promise that we wouldn’t disturb the printer. He turned out to be happy to see us and glad to explain what he was doing. (We learned later that he has quite a reputation as an extravert.)

The table in the printing room must have been at least 25 feet long by 5 or more feet wide. Stretched securely on its full length was a piece of silk just starting into the printing process. Repetitions of a four feet square forest scene had already been applied to it in the first of what would ultimately become seven colors. The printer explained the process to us as he removed the screen that he had used for the first color, washed it, inked the next screen with the next color, and fitted it into the traveling frame that was to make its course along the full length of the table. After registering the frame in the appropriate location on its track, he operated a squeegee that forced the ink down onto the silk to print the second color onto it, and then moved along to do the same again and again, along the full length of the fabric..

But printing on silk isn’t over when the cloth has been fully inked, as the ink is in reality just sitting on the surface of the cloth. It needs to go through a heat process that pulls the dye into the silk fiber and rejects the carrier substance that formed the base for the ink, enabling the carrier to subsequently be washed away.

In summary, printing on silk is a complicated and extremely precise process. And we haven’t even gotten into the other related processes like dying and velvet erosion.

The proprietor’s wife was in the gift shop area, and she had a story for every scarf. Sue Anne bought a fabric remnant of day lilies, designed by the shopkeeper’s son. The lovely scarf that she chose was based on a drawing of the scene from the nearby hill Belas Knap, done by the husband. As it happens, Sue Anne has drawn from there too, on two occasions. And perhaps will do so again this week. And beyond the factory showroom, Beckford silks are sold in National Trust shops and other high end establishments. Custom designs (‘bespoke’ in British), some incorporating the work of artists famous in other media, are in the hands of private buyers and major institutions such as the Houses of Parliament. Beckford is a national treasure!

Next we drove a sort distance to meet our friends John and Joyce Everett at the Hobnails pub in Little Washbourne, which had been our favorite during the time we lived here. We knew that Steve Farbrother, the publican at the time who was so friendly to us and our children, had retired a while ago, taking the pub out of family hands for the first time in many centuries. We had heard tales of it going downhill, being severely damaged in the July 2007 floods, and being nicely restored under new ownership.

It was great to see John and Joyce again, both doing well. Our experience with the pub itself had a bittersweet touch to it. Everything about the place was very nice—appearance, staff, food, drink, bathrooms. (The latter much nicer than before!) If we had simply stumbled on it for the first time we would easily have given it high ratings. But it wasn’t quite the Hobnails that we remembered. The skittles (primitive bowling) alley was gone, as was the settle chair in the front room. Some familiar items were gone from the menu, and some had been replaced with upgraded alternatives, all a casualty to changing tastes. Ah, you can’t go back. But you do have to buy new furniture every few centuries.

The overcast cleared while we were in the pub. The drive through the Vale of Evesham to Stratford-upon- Avon was especially pretty. Big Sky country! We parked the car near the downtown area and walked to the closest of the Shakespeare attractions. There we split up, Bruce to check e-mail and post the past few days’ blogs, and the others to explore Shakespeare’s local haunts. Starting with his birthplace.

Bruce’s Internet experience was totally satisfactory. A wireless connection in a pleasant coffee shop, all for the price of a good cup of coffee. Among the e-mails awaiting us was the announcement of the engagement of Sue Anne and Aimée’s brother Ted to his girlfriend Christine! Much happiness to both of them!

The other three of us got combined tickets that would allow them to view Shakespeare’s birthplace, Nash’s House (home of his granddaughter), and Hall’s Croft (home of his eldest daughter). They didn’t have time to visit the latter, but the first two were very interesting. Nash’s House is next to a garden that was the site of Will’s last home, built at age 33—a grand house built on his earnings from London. Unfortunately, that house was torn down in 1759. The story goes that the owner at that time was tired of being pestered by people wanting to see the house and take cuttings from the garden. He could have charged admission and opened a gift shop!

The four of us then rendezvoused at the appointed street corner for the drive back to Ledbury, with a quick drive-by look at Anne Hathaway’s cottage on the way out of town.

We had to park well short of downtown Ledbury due to the ‘Fun Fair’ (a modern day augmentation to the traditional harvest celebrations) that was in full swing along the side of High Street. Rides, food, loud thumping music. Despite all of this we managed a successful call to our friends Peter and Rosemarie Shortell from a phone booth right across the street from all the action. They’ll be coming out here to join us for lunch tomorrow. Our plans for the rest of the day are pretty much open and will probably feature a degree of relaxation.

Ledbury Hops Fair, traditionally held at the end of the growing season. The 15th century market hall on stilts in the background with our little lane on the far left.

Bruce nipped across the path to the pub with a genuine, official pint glass from our cupboard and returned with it nicely filled with a local brew. Others imbibed from the stock they had brought with them. Tasty dinner of good bread, homemade tomato and vegetable soup, and Brussels sprouts. We all like Brussels sprouts!

Monday - October 13