Stourhead’s autumn colours

Oct28

Chap and I headed out to Stourhead this morning to get a fix of autumn colours. The gardens open at 9 and we got there at about 9.30, and there were already plenty of people there. Unsurprisingly most of them seemed to be taking photos.

We did our usual circuit walk around the lake, anticlockwise this time. The colours are pretty good this year but I wonder if the best is still to come.

Stourhead. The Palladian bridge in the foreground and the Pantheon on the other side of the lake.

The Temple of Apollo.

View across the lake to the Temple of Flora.

The Pantheon, newly reopened after restoration works this summer. Look at the red of that acer – it gives that lady’s coat a run for its money!

Beautiful Tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera) on the island in the lake.

Beautiful tulip tree (Liriodendron tulipifera) on one of the islands in the lake.

The river god, representing the River Stour, in his grotto.

Looking back at **8 through the grotto. Love the pebble floor!

Looking back at the river god through the grotto. Love the pebble floor! To the right in this view is the sleeping nymph.

The sleeping nymph in the grotto.

The Bristol Cross, the Palladian bridge and over on the other side of the lake, the Pantheon.

On the drive home from Stourhead, just to the south of the estate: fantastic little estate smallholding, with outbuildings for livestock. We could see geese, ducks and guinea fowl!

On the drive home from Stourhead, just to the south of the gardens en route to the wonderfully named village of Gasper: a fantastic little estate smallholding, with outbuildings for livestock. We could see geese, ducks and guinea fowl!

The autumn colours are still developing. Alan Power, the Head Gardener at Stourhead, gives updates on his Twitter feed, as well as tweeting some amazing photos (he’s definitely got a better camera and waaaaaay more skill than me!).

On it I found out that in August this year the gardens at Stourhead were Google mapped: soon you’ll be able to take a virtual walk around the estate, courtesy of Google and this young man!

And I have to include this photo that I found on Alan’s twitter feed: it’s the most stunning view of Stourhead, taken by James Aldred in May this year from one of the taller trees on the estate:

Stourhead. Stunning photo by James Aldred in May 2014, showing the Temple of Apollo on its heights, and the Palladian bridge in the foreground.

Update on Friday 31 October: I have just heard Alan Power on BBC Radio 4’s PM programme, doing his annual description of the gardens, interviewed by the wonderful Eddie Mair. Alan has such a poetic way of describing the gardens, and his horticultural contributions are rightly a favourite part of PM’s annual cycle. He was recorded this afternoon, chatting for about 8 minutes on the programme, with the full 11½ minute interview available here. It’s well worth a listen: he clearly adores his job, the gardens, the plants and the people who visit, gaining pleasure from their pleasure, and he has a great eye for detail and a passion to share his delight in these fabulous gardens. A few lyrical snippets:

‘Trees in full autumnal song’

‘Early last week we had some wind come through the country … and on its way it undressed some of the trees’

‘On the island there’s a tulip tree that’s been rattled by the wind a little bit and its internal branches have no leaves left and it’s just haloed with a golden yellow’

‘And there’s architecture in the plants as well … looking across to the trees in the distance and there are some poplar trees and some birch trees by the grotto at Stourhead and they’re, they’re bolt upright you could describe them as, so their stems are really striking from a distance, really grey stems and they’re almost the same colour as the columns on top of the Pantheon, so you’ve got architecture within the soft planting and you’ve got the harder architecture of the eighteenth-century temples.’

‘The leaves have been falling gently and they haven’t been frightened by the frosts.’

Alan has been talking to PM about the autumn colours at Stourhead for six years now, and it’s just a delight.

Malmesbury Abbey, and the sad tale of Hannah Twynnoy

Oct15

A couple of Sundays ago Chap and I headed north, and visited Malmesbury Abbey and Cherhill in north Wiltshire. I wrote about Cherhill in a previous post, and now it’s Malmesbury Abbey’s turn, and also the sad tale of one of the inhabitants of the Abbey’s graveyard.

South front of the nave of Malmesbury Abbey. Photo by Adrian Pingstone.

‘Malmesbury Abbey from the North-West’ by Joseph Mallord William Turner, 1791. Watercolour on paper. One of a series of sketches Turner painted of the Abbey. Tate Britain.

But first, a little about the Abbey itself. It is a wonderful building: its slightly unprepossessing exterior when viewed from the south doesn’t really prepare you for the interior, I feel. As you approach the south door you get the first hint that something exceptional is here: the Norman arch over the entrance porch is simply stunning. Its 850-year-old carvings tell the stories of the creation, the journey of the patriarch and kings, and the life of Jesus.

The Norman porch at Malmesbury Abbey.

Inside the porch: six of the Apostles

Inside the porch: the other six.

Inside the porch, over the inner door: Christ and attending angels.

The present Abbey is the third house of worship to stand on the site, and this incarnation was substantially completed by 1180. Its construction continued piecemeal over the next two hundred years, and it had a spire taller than that of Salisbury Cathedral (which is a whopping 123 metres (404 feet) high, the tallest in the UK) at the east end, and an impressive tower at the west end. The spire and the tower on which it was built fell around 1500, and the tower fell abut 50 years after that: both collapses demolished large parts of the building. All that is left intact today is the nave of this once-enormous abbey. It is still used for worship, and is a much-loved building surrounded by the ruins of its former glory.

West window of the nave and enormous Norman columns.

Looking up at the south wall of the nave.

The ceiling of the nave with ornate bosses.

The Watching Loft above the south side of the nave.

The 14th century tomb of King Aethelstan (c.893/895-939 AD), who is buried in an unknown spot somewhere in the Abbey grounds.

The 17th century font.

One of the many monuments on the walls to the great and the good of the area. This one commemorates Mrs Elizabeth George of nearby Steeple Ashton, who died in 1734.

Stained glass window designed by Edward Burne-Jones and made in the William Morris workshops in 1901.

A beautiful Jacobean carved oak chair near the altar.

And wow—look at these flowers. They greet visitors and worshippers alike as they come in through the porch, and whoever was on the flower rota when these were done gets a gold star from me! Such a simple and beautiful arrangement of blue delphiniums, white asters and a white umbellifer—possibly Ammi major (also known as Bishop’s Lace, which is appropriate)—plus foliage.

Flowers in the entrance to the Abbey.

Hannah Twynnoy bears the sad distinction of being possibly the first recorded death by tiger attack in the United Kingdom. Little is known of her apart from her gravestone, and a memorial plaque which provided some details of her life and sad demise, but which has since been lost. Apparently Hannah was a young barmaid at the White Lion Inn in Malmesbury, and one day somehow got close enough to a tiger displayed by a visiting menagerie for it to be able to maul her, with fatal results. She died on 23 October 1703, aged 33 years. She was buried in the Abbey grounds, and her headstone reads:

In bloom of Life
She’s snatchd from hence,
She had not room
To make defence;
For Tyger fierce
Took Life away.
And here she lies
In a bed of Clay,
Until the Resurrection Day.

Hannah Twynnoy’s headstone in Malmesbury Abbey graveyard.

The west front of Malmesbury Abbey.

The Old Bell viewed from the Abbey graveyard (nice table tomb in the foreground). The Old Bell claims to be England’s oldest hotel, dating back to 1220.

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Just outside the Abbey grounds is Malmesbury Market Cross, dating from c. 1490.

Filming locations: Stourhead

Oct9

We are so lucky to live close to the beautiful landscape gardens of Stourhead, near Mere in south-western Wiltshire. Chap and I visit often, and we are about due another visit to see the gorgeous autumn colours there.

Stourhead. The Palladian Bridge in the foreground and the Pantheon on the other side of the lake. Photo by Inglenookery.

Stourhead. The Palladian Bridge in the foreground and the Pantheon on the other side of the lake. Photo taken April 2011 by Inglenookery.

The house at Stourhead was built by Henry Hoare between 1721—1725, and the gardens were developed soon afterwards. They were brought into greatness in the mid-eighteenth century by Hoare’s son Henry Hoare II, with the damming of the small River Stour to form the lake, the building of the various temples, planting of the trees and development of the landscape features.

Stourhead Estate is managed by the National Trust. The charity’s properties are often used for filming, especially for period pieces (I’ve previously written about Montacute House, Mompesson House and Saltram House).

View from the Pantheon looking across the lake to the Palladian Bridhge and . The tTemple of apollo is on the high ground to the right of the photo. Photo April 2011 by Infgelnookery.

Stourhead. View from the Pantheon looking across the lake to the bridge and the Temple of Flora. The Temple of Apollo is on the high ground to the right of the photo. Photo taken April 2011 by Inglenookery.

Stourhead is more famous for its gardens than its associated Palladian mansion, and I am always surprised at how little it has been used as a location for filming. Part of the reason might be that it is one of the Trust’s most popular properties, with the gardens open every day apart from Christmas Day and New Year’s Day. Even though it has many visitors every day, the gardens are so large that they rarely feel crowded. In 2012—2013 it was the most visited NT property for which a charge is made, with 356,023 visitors (other open country sites in NT ownership, such as Avebury or the Coastal Paths, are free to visit and so counts of visitor numbers are not easily available.)

Stourhead. View of the lake from the Temple of Apollo. Taken by Inglenookery

Stourhead. View of the lake from the Temple of Apollo. Photo taken September 2013 by Inglenookery.

I can only think of it appearing in two films: the 2005 film adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, in the scene when Mr Darcy (Matthew Macfadyen) first proposes to Elizabeth Bennet (Keira Knightley), filmed in the rain at the Temple of Apollo, and the brief scene with Elizabeth running across the five-arched bridge over the lake; and the scene in Barry Lyndon, the 1975 film directed by Stanley Kubrick, where Barry (Ryan O’Neal) talks to his mother (Marie Kean) on the bridge, with the lake and the Pantheon in the background in some shots, and the Temple of Flora in the background in another. There must be others, I’m sure—I just can’t think of any.

Stourhead. The Temple of Apollo starring in Pride and Prejudice (2005).

The bridge at the lake at Storuhead, satrring in

Stourhead: the bridge at the lake, starring in Pride and Prejudice (2005).

Stourhead in a scene from Barry Lyndon: the bridge with the Pantheon in the background (1975).

Barry Lyndon (Ryan O’Neal) with his mother (Marie Kean) on the bridge at Stourhead, with the Temple of Flora in the background.

Barry Lyndon (Ryan O’Neal) on the bridge at Stourhead.

We we very lucky when we visited in September last year—the Festival of the Voice was taking place, and it was magical to hear unaccompanied choral works drifting in the air as we walked around the garden. We stopped at the Pantheon to listen to this (apologies for it being filmed sideways on. I have no idea a) how to film or b) how to edit …)

Short National Trust history of the house and gardens.

Sunday stroll: Cherhill

Sep29

Yesterday Chap and I headed north—most unusual for us (our hearts are in the south and west, and best of all the south-west). We visited the beautiful town of Malmesbury with its glorious abbey, founded in 675 AD, and then went on to Cherhill, a chalk downland hill near Calne. You can’t miss Cherhill: atop it sits the Lansdowne Monument, a 38 m (125 feet) high obelisk, and carved into the side of the hill is the famous Cherhill White Horse, one of several in the region. Cherhill is in the ownership of the National Trust, and is managed as part of the Avebury Estate.

Cherhill. Photo by MacFodder.

Cherhill packs in an awful lot of history into its not-so-great size. On top of the hill sits the two thousand year old plus Iron Age hillfort of Oldbury. The massive earthworks enclose an area of 10.1 hectares (25 acres). The northern part of the fort has no bank and ditch as the steep slope of the side of the downland provides natural defence.

Aerial photo of Oldbury. The Lansdowne Monumnet is visible within the north-western part of the Iron Age hillfort. Photo by Google.

Aerial photo of Oldbury. The Lansdowne Monument is visible within the north-western part of the Iron Age hillfort. The White Horse is just out of shot at the top of the image area. Photo by Google.

The earthworks of the Iron Age hillfort.

The entrance to the interior of the hillfort through the earthworks, in the south-east part of the hillfort.

The entrance to the interior of the hillfort through the earthworks, in the east part of the hillfort.

On the north-facing slopes of the downland, and clearly visible from the A4, an old coaching road, is the Cherhill White Horse. This was constructed in 1780, the brainchild of Dr Christopher Alsop of Calne. Alsop was known as ‘The Mad Doctor’, and is reputed to have instructed the workers by shouting through a megaphone from the wonderfully-named Labour-in-Vain Hill. The horse was originally 50 m by 67 m (165 feet by 220 feet).

The construction method for a white horse is very simple—the thin turf and soil is removed from the underlying chalk bedrock. When first exposed, the chalk is a brilliant white, and so contrasts well with the surrounding turf. However, the chalk soon weathers, turning a greyish colour, sometimes a greeny-grey if algae grows on it, and weeds take hold. For this reason, hill-cut chalk figures (of which there are a good number in southern England) have to be regularly re-scoured or re-dressed with fresh chalk. As far as I can make out, it was last re-dressed in 2002.

View of a rather grubby looking Cherhill White Horse from just below the Lansdowne Monument.

Close to, it is so large that you can barely make it out as a horse. Needs a good clean!

Close to, it is so large and becomes so abstract that you can barely make it out as a horse. Needs a good clean!

Here it is in brighter days. Photo by Dan Gabor.

The Lansdowne Monument was designed by Sir Charles Barry (he of the Houses of Parliament), and built in 1845 by Henry Petty-Fitzmaurice, the 3rd Marquess of Lansdowne in memory of his ancestor Sir William Petty (1623-1687). Sir William was an economist, scientist and philosopher, and held the position of Surveyor General of Ireland in the 1660s. The Monument is 38 metres (125 feet) high, and is a Grade II* listed building.

The Lansdowne Monument. Photo by Lisa Hillier in 2002.

The Monument is currently boarded up at its base for public safety: the Bath Stone quoins have been eroding away in the bad winter weather and large fragments of rock have dropped from it.

Slightly skewiff photo, but it shows the boarding at the base well.

Close to the Lansdowne Monument.

A sad sign of the times: on the boarding was a notice by the National Trust saying it is not known when funding will be available to repair the Monument.

Even though it was an overcast day, the views from the hill to the north are wonderful.

Mystery tile revisited: Iznik?

Aug11

I’ve done some poking about since I last wrote about my mystery tile. (Click on all photos to enlarge).

The mystery tile.

I had discounted it being Iznik as most Iznik decorative floral motifs I had seen were flowing and sinuous, rather than angular and geometric, as in my tile.

However, a late-night spot of google-fu brought me to the official blog of the Glessner House Museum in Chicago. In the mid 1880s Iznik tiles which date from the mid-16th century were used to decorate the fireplace of the newly built Glessner House. The photos on the Glessner House website are very similar to my tile:

Iznik tile illustrated on the Glessner House blog. Pretty good match, no?

However, it is not clear from the blog whether this is one of the 1970s reproductions that is mentioned, or one of the three original tiles that survive from the Glessner House collection. (Update: this very tile is for sale at Anthony Slayter-Ralph Fine Art, Tile 70 of the Lockwood de Forest II collection, 21.6 x 19 cm (8.5 x 7.5 in.), so I am not sure how accurate the Glessner House information is. The sale description says it can be compared to two tiles in the V&A, accession no. 1227-1883, but sadly there are no photos with the V&A’s collections database entry for these tiles).

This tile differs from my tile in that the interior of the flower spike is painted to delineate the fish scale-like sections, whereas mine has a bumpy, textured interior and the sections are more circular. The Glessner ones are said to be some 6 inches square (although the one above is 8.5 x 7.5 inches), whereas mine is a tad over 8 inches square. Plus my underglaze background colour is a blueish white, whereas the Glessner House ones are a cleaner, crisper white.

Iznik tiles in the dining room fireplace in the Glessner House, before their removal in the 1930s.

The Glessner House blog provided a photo of similar tiles in the tomb of Muhi al-Din Ibn ‘Arabi in the Sheikh Muhiddin Mosque in Damascus. Another quick google told me that he was properly known as (deep breath) ‘Abū ‘Abdillāh Muḥammad ibn ‘Alī ibn Muḥammad ibn ‘Arabī (also as Muhiddin(e) ibn Arabi), an Arab-Andalusian Sufi mystic, poet and philosopher who died in 1240 AD, and was buried in Damascus. Centuries later his tomb was decorated with these vivid Iznik tiles. They too have the painted fish scale-like interior divisions of the flower spikes.

Iznik tiles in the tomb of ‘Abū ‘Abdillāh Muḥammad ibn ‘Alī ibn Muḥammad ibn ‘Arabī in Damascus. These have the painted fish scale divisions within the flower spikes.

Ibn Arabi’s tomb, Damascus, Syria. Photo from http://hakkani.wordpress.com/2011/04/30/sheikh-ibn-arabis-tomb-jabal-qasyoon-syria/

So the question is, is mine Iznik too? Is it genuine Iznik, older than the ones at Damascus? Is it genuine Iznik, younger than the ones at Damascus? Was it made by another pottery centre, apeing the Iznik style? Is it a modern reproduction? I don’t think it is the latter as it simply looks and feels too old: it was made in a fairly crude way, the glaze is very crackled and crazed with age, and it has had a life with all its breaks and stains. But I could very easily be wrong.

Time for some more research ….

UDATE: More developments here.

Filming locations: Saltram House

Aug10

Today I watched the 1995 Ang Lee directed film of Sense and Sensibility again. I haven’t watched it for years and had forgotten what a good adaptation it is, and how sumptuous the filming locations are. It was mainly filmed in various stately homes and estates in Devon, Somerset and Wiltshire—my favourite part of the world (along with Dorset), so there’s no way I’m not going to love this film! I wrote a previous post about how I was lucky enough to watch just a tiny bit of the filming back in 1995, outside Mompesson House in Salisbury. In spring this year we visited one of the other filming locations, Saltram House, while Chap and I were staying with my younger sister and her hubby in Devon. To our shame Chap and I had never visited before, despite having driven past it too many times to mention. Like Mompesson House, Saltram is owned by the National Trust.

In the film, Saltram House stands in for Norland Park, the home of the Dashwoods before they are forced to leave after Mr Dashwood’s death.

Saltram House, just outside Plymouth in Devon. The stand-in for Norland Park in the 1995 film Sense and Sensibility. Photo by Chilli Head.

Saltram House. Photo by Wigulf.

We took a long walk around the grounds but didn’t have time to look around inside the house, so I have no idea whether the interior scenes set at Norland Park were filmed at Saltram too (given that both the interior and exterior scenes of Mrs Jennings’ townhouse were filmed at Mompesson House, I’m guessing it’s likely that they were).

The grounds are beautiful, if perhaps a little spoiled by the road noise from the nearby A38, and go down to the River Plym. Margaret’s wonderful treehouse in the film is no longer there, but the estate is beautifully kept, with many old and interesting trees.

Margaret Dashwood's treehouse int eh film Sense and Sensibility, filmed at Saltram House,.

Margaret Dashwood’s treehouse in the film Sense and Sensibility, filmed at Saltram House. The avenue beyond leads to the house.

The avenue leading to the house. Margaret's treehouse is at the end of this, and Elinor and Photo by Adrian Platt.

The avenue leading to the house. Margaret’s treehouse is at the end of this, and Elinor and Edward Ferrars go for a walk along it in the film. Photo by Adrian Platt.

The orangery was filled with citrus trees in pots, and pots stuffed full with clivias. The stables, where in the film Elinor almost gets a profession of love from Edward Ferrars (drat his pesky sister for coming along just when she did), were alive with the twittering of nesting swallows: a really joyous sound.

The stables at Saltram House. The swallows were nesting under the arch. Photo by Derek Harper.

We arrived in style. My brother-in-law is a Rolls Royce nut so this was our transport:

1929 Rolls Royce. Sadly the Spirt of Ecstasy at this point was in brother-in-law's pocket because if she was left on the car she might well have been pinched!

1929 Rolls Royce in the Saltram car park. Sad sign of the times: the Spirit of Ecstasy bonnet ornament at this point was in brother-in-law’s pocket, because if she was left on the car she might well have been pinched!

A mystery tile

Jul27

Even though our cottage and garden are both pretty small, all in all we have eight neighbours with whom we share a boundary—but the reason for that is for another day’s post (hint: medieval burgages and later coaching inns). There is a low stone wall between us and one of our neighbours’ houses.

The mystery tile. The old breaks are a dirty dark grey; the modern ones bright greyish white. I don’t think it’s Iznik – Indian, maybe?

One day, many years ago, I noticed a lovely old tile sitting on top of the wall—one edge was broken and missing, and the glaze was dinked in a couple of places, but generally it wasn’t in too bad condition. What really grabbed me about it were the colours, turquoises and cobalt blues, and they reminded me of the colours of the Iznik tiles I had seen on the walls in the various ancient mosques I had visited in the Middle East. I didn’t think much more about it. Our neighbour’s kids used to play on the wall and I assumed they had put it there. The next time I saw it was about a year later. It had fallen to the ground on our side of the garden and had broken into about six pieces. I mentioned it to our neighbour and she said ‘Oh that old thing, I don’t want it, chuck it away.’

Angled view from the front, showing the bumpy textured section of the central flower spike.

Well, being a lover of old things and an inveterate hoarder, I could do no such thing. I gathered up all the fragments I could find, washed them, and stuck them back together with HMG glue (beloved of archaeological finds officers across the nation). A few pieces were missing and despite a thorough search I never found them.

I would love to know more about the tile. It measures about 220 mm (8 3/4 inches) square and about 16 mm (7/10 inch) thick, with slightly bevelled edges. The clay from which it is made is a greyish white in colour. There are fingerprints on the backside—you can run your four fingers down where the tile maker smoothed out the clay into the mould. The glaze is very glassy/vitreous. I don’t think it is an Iznik tile as all the ones I have seen have flowing, curving, sinuous plants and foliage, whereas the ones on this tile are quite geometric and angular. I wonder if it might be Indian?

The back of the tile, with the four parallel finger marks running horizontally across from the bottom right corner, from when the maker was smearing and pressing down the clay into the square mould. The darker grey circular marks (there would originally have been nine of them) are presumably something to do with the loading of the tiles in the kiln for firing. Anyhow—if anyone has any ideas about the identification of this tile, I’d love to know.

Peacock wrangling

Jul15

There is a sweet BBC news item this morning about the peacocks at Kirby Hall in Northamptonshire who are looking for love—apparently there aren’t enough peahens to go around and so “the lovelorn birds have been displaying their tail feathers to park benches, bins and squirrels in an attempt to find a mate.”

Peacock in display. Photo by N A Nazeer.

Peacock displaying. Photo by N A Nazeer.

It reminded me of the time I was working for the National Trust at Avebury in the mid 90s, as Archaeologist/Warden. There were peacocks in the grounds of the Manor House there, including a spectacular white peacock, who was even more stunning when he was displaying. The peacocks and peahens lived wild, and roosted at night in the trees. One of the males had been attacked, we thought by a fox, and needed veterinary attention. So Chris Gingell (the Estate Manager) and I managed to get this beautiful bird, full tail feathers and all, into the back of one of the Trust’s Subaru pickups (it was an enclosed one) and drive it to the vets in Devizes. The entire staff crammed into the consultation room to watch, as it was the first (and I imagine still the only) time a peacock had been brought in—and he was looking particularly impressive as he was in full feather at the time. It turned out he hadn’t been too badly injured at all and he went on to make a full recovery.

Avebury Manor, now sadly peacockless. Photo by Chris Collard.

Avebury Manor, south elevation. Photo by Brian Robert Marshall.

A few years later, after I’d left the Trust’s employ at Avebury to become self-employed, I heard on the morning news on Radio 4 that the villagers were trying to get the Trust to get rid of the peacocks, as they were wandering into neighbouring gardens and wrecking the flowers and their loud calls were an annoyance to some people. It wasn’t really national newsworthy, apart from the fact that they interviewed the grand old man of broadcasting and peacock-disliker Ludovic Kennedy. He and his wife Moira Shearer lived in the village and I think he might have been calling in some favours from his media chums in an attempt to pressurise the Trust into binning the birds. The birds duly went, leaving Avebury a much quieter but less colourful place.

So that’s one of the more interesting things I could put on my cv: peacock wrangler.

Tour de France: Stage 3

Jul7

Yesterday’s Stage 2 from York to Sheffield was an exciting watch, through more gorgeous countryside: and the rain held off too, which was a wonderful bonus. I thought the route designers were rather mean putting the Jenkin Road climb right at the very end of the race, but of course the riders were up to it. Vincenzo Nibali put on a great sprint at the end to leave the others behind and take his first ever yellow jersey.

So after two glorious days in God’s Own County, the Tour moves south today to Cambridge, Essex and London.

The start of today’s Stage 3 in my old student stomping ground of Cambridge will provide scenic photo opportunities a-plenty, though the flat ground of the route won’t prove too taxing compared to yesterday’s hilly climbs. The Tour will pass through the picturesque town of Saffron Walden, named after the saffron industry that used to dominate there in the 16th and 17th centuries—fields were full of the pretty purple saffron crocus (Crocus sativus) produced the expensive spice (each crocus has three stigmas, which have to be collected by hand and dried to produce the spice).

Church Street, Saffron Walden. Photo by Stuart Logan.

Saffron crocus (Crocus sativus), with the three long orange visible.

Saffron crocus (Crocus sativus), with the three long orange stigmas visible. Photo by Kenpei.

On its way into London the Tour will pass the Olympic Park, scene of both the fantastic 2012 London Olympics and Paralympics. Then it’s on into the City, ending on The Mall. The Mall is becoming quite a venue for important cycle races: the London 2012 men’s road race started and ended there.

And that will mark the end of the Tour’s three days in England: then it’s back across the Channel for tomorrow’s stage start at Le Touquet.

Tour de France: Stage 2

Jul6

Such sad news this morning that Cav is out of the Tour after crashing 250 m from the end of yesterday’s stage—the very first of the Tour. I feel so, so sorry for him.

Poor Mark Cavendish slowly cycling to the finish after his crash.

Apart from that miserable end to the day’s racing, yesterday’s Leeds to Harrogate stage was fantastic. I watched the whole thing (much to Chap’s disgust, as it was a beautiful sunny day outside)—but hey, how often does the Tour come to the UK, and when it does, how often does the sun shine? Yorkshire looked stunning, and the aerial shots from the helicopter cameras showed the countryside to its best advantage. The sun shone, the grass was an unreal green, the drystone walls and stone buildings looked chocolate box perfect. Best tourism advertising Yorkshire could hope for! The crowds were amazing, too—estimates are between 1 and 2 MILLION people lining the course. I love the way the people have embraced the Tour with all the fun decorations to the houses and walls and lampposts and fields and sheep—pretty much anything that can be decorated.

Approaching the top of Buttertubs. Photo: Le Tour de France.

Approaching the top of Buttertubs, 5 July 2014. Photo: Le Tour de France.

The Peloton passes through the Yorkshire village of Muker. 5 July 2014. Photo by Owen Humphreys/Press Association.

I’d have loved it if Jens Voigt had won after his brave breakaway, especially as this is his last Tour, but he was reeled in and it all came down to the mad dash into Harrogate, where poor Cav came a cropper and Marcel Kittel won the charge for the line.

Today the Tour carries on its journey through Yorkshire. The stage passes through Haworth and Brontë country, and climbs the splendidly-named Blubberhouses (renamed the Côte de Blubberhouses for the day). My sister and her hubby will be somewhere along the route watching. They thought they would try to get to High Bradfield (Côte de Bradfield in Tour speak) near the end of the stage.

High Bradfield Church and village. Photo by Terry Robinson.

I hope the weather is good today and the rain holds off. Allez!

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