Hello and how was your weekend? Mine was very mixed, with some truly lovely parts clouded by a loss.
Bluebells still beautiful, sheep looking fed-up.
Saturday started with a run down the lane, the bluebells are still holding on and the field was full of some grumpy-looking sheep. Am assuming they’re pregnant and fed-up (I remember that feeling).
The afternoon was spent at Lingfield Races. We were invited to a summer party, and we donned our smart clothes—so hard to walk in heels when you haven’t worn them for a while—and joined some friends at the racecourse. They had booked a private suite, which was rather lovely, with a buffet lunch and a balcony overlooking the course. I scoured the race details, trying to pick the winner for each race, and failing completely.
Enjoying the races. My horse was last.
It’s very hard to predict which horse will win (which I guess is why there are so many bookies). After each race, I compared the age, weight of jockey, distance they had travelled, last time they had run, trying to transpose the information to the next race. It didn’t work, I lost. After a few races I switched strategies, and backed the favourite. That didn’t work either. Nor did choosing the prettiest jockey colours, nor the best named horse. We walked down to the training ring to see if we could spot the winner there, but it was empty except for a man in dirty jeans—and I didn’t think he was likely to be winning any races! In the end I backed whichever horse was grey, which I believe was my grandad’s strategy many years ago. He never won anything either.
Trying to ignore the uncomfortable heels. (If my mother had been there, my hair would look less scruffy.)
Sunday we went to church. We have joined Holy Trinity, the little anglican church in the village, and I love it. It is full of friendly faces, and I find the words of the liturgy to be beautiful, the building inspiring, and taking the sacrament is being part of something holy. Having been raised a staunch baptist, I am noticing the differences, and revelling in approaching God from a different angle. Perhaps everyone should change denomination mid-life, so they can understand the good parts of both.
After church we always have brunch, which is another new tradition (since Covid) that makes me look forward to Sundays. (I used to dread them—they were all about being uncomfortable and doing my duty and working hard). We had banana and walnut and cinnamon pancakes with orange juice and coffee. Doesn’t that sound good?
Then we did some gardening, with my old dog beside me and the cats pouncing on the weeds I dug up, and the sunshine smiling on us. A peaceful day.
I needed a peaceful day, because a much-loved uncle died recently. He was the sort of uncle who you knew would smile if you turned up unannounced at the door, an uncle who told amazing stories (which you were never entirely sure whether they were true), the sort of uncle who wanted to be part of my life. When my children came along, he wanted to know them too. He was part of the stability of my life. I have been very lucky, my childhood was built on love and family. I will leave you with the wedding photo of my grandparents, which is where that stability and love started. Losing an uncle is sad, but mostly I feel grateful that he was my uncle, because family is precious.
My Granny and Grampy on their wedding day. Those heels look uncomfortable too!
Hold on to what is precious this week, and let things that don’t matter evaporate. Life is too short for anything else. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
It was our last day in the Yorkshire Dales, so we made it a good one. We started with a run down the lane (I will miss the lambs in the fields and the stone walls, and the hills surrounding the dale). Then breakfast in Hawes (at Caffe Curlew, which despite the spelling serves excellent food—I had banana loaf with raspberries and yogurt and honey—soo delicious). Later, we went for a drive.
I will never tire of driving through the dales (especially out of season, when the roads are clear, and the views stretch on forever). The roads cling to the side of the hills, rolling up and down with the curves of rock, sometimes with sheep, sometimes mile after mile of nothing but grass. We headed for Kirby Stephen, simply because it looked like a fairly large town not too far away.
In Kirby Stephen we found Franks Bridge, so I took a photo to send to Uncle Frank (as you do). The bridge was hard to find, in a warren of narrow lanes and crooked houses, and absolutely nowhere to park. Later, I learned that it used to be an area owned by the brewery, and all the cottages are converted brewery buildings.
Franks Bridge is a pretty stone bridge crossing the River Eden (not, weirdly, the same River Eden that runs through the Kent town of Edenbridge). It is the starting point for several footpaths, and was built in the 17th century. The bridge is named after one of the brewers (Francis—or Frank to his friends!)
Franks Bridge hidden behind a maze of old brewery buildings.
We wandered up to the centre of town. In the church I found a glass case with a few old objects. They include a tusk which is said to be from the last wild boar in England (before they were all killed by hunters). There is also the ‘breeches Bible’ which is so named because in Genesis, Adam and Eve sewed breeches. The Hebrew word was traditionally translated as ‘aprons.’
Old Bible in a glass case in the church.
Even older than the church or bridge is Pendragon Castle, which sits next to the road on the way to Kirby Stephen. It dates back to the 12th century, and was apparently founded by the father of King Arthur, Uther Pendragon. (I feel those names would have been confusing when Arthur lived at home, but who am I to comment?) Anyway, Uther came to a sticky end when the well was poisoned by the Saxons, so maybe not such a happy place.
A slightly less romantic version has the castle built by Hugh de Morville or Ranulph de Meschines—accounts differ (still in the 12th century though). Hugh de Morville is one of the men who murdered St. Thomas Becket in 1170, so not a nice chap. The castle was nearly destroyed when Scottish raiders tried to burn it down in 1341 (we could never control the Scottish) but was restored and was later owned by Lady Anne Clifford.
Today however, it is beautiful. The walls are crumbling, and aubretia is growing in the cracks, so if you visit be sure to go in April when it’s flowering. It sits on a little hill, the ditch of a moat around it, birds singing in the trees, sheep nestling next to the river below. Definitely a good place to visit to end our holiday.
Hope you have a good day. Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
We were going to visit the rope-makers but they’re shut. Maybe they got to the end of their tether. Or perhaps they were all Methodist, as the impressive Methodist church sported a rather sad sign which said people had worshipped there from 1800s until 2014. They maybe moved to a different building, but that wasn’t the implication. We decided to visit the cheese-making creamery instead, but they were shut too. (Note to future self: Don’t trust the timings on websites.)
Instead, we drove to a pretty village (we figured they couldn’t shut a whole village). West Burton is a short drive from Hawes and it has a pretty village green, a waterfall and a Methodist Chapel which is open and friendly (it had daffodils on a bench outside and a sign inviting people to take a posy for their friends and neighbours). We wandered around, were impressed by the age of the buildings, drove back to the cottage. Possibly not as interesting as cheese making, though personally I was rather glad the rope-makers were shut.
Bolton Castle
The next day we were better planned and set off for Bolton Castle in Castle Bolton (village is named after the castle in case you’re confused). I was keen to visit as I had read Queen Mary had been held captive there for a while. Husband was keen to visit because he could sort of remember it has a link to Game of Thrones. The facts are:
Bolton Castle was built in the 14th century by the first Baron of Bolton. He rebelled against Henry VIII who tried to burn down the castle (and damaged it). Later (after it was repaired) Mary Queen of Scots was held there for 6 months. She brought with her lots of staff, including a hairdresser, who needed to lodge with locals, and she brought furnishings from other castles, so it doesn’t sound too bad. Apparently she even escaped at one point, so I’m not sure how closely she was guarded—maybe if she had known what was coming she would have tried a bit harder to get away.
The castle is still owned by descendants of the Baron of Bolton today. It has been used for various films, including Elizabeth, and Anne Boleyn and is also where James Herriot proposed to his wife in the tv series All Creatures Great and Small (which used to be on telly Sunday afternoons, and was one of the very few television programmes that we were allowed to watch in my family on Sundays.)
On Game of Thrones one of the houses is called House Bolton and it’s in the north, and hosts a wedding where I believe everyone is killed. I seem to remember that the house did look very similar to the big square Bolton Castle, but I don’t think there’s any other link. The House Bolton are pretty nasty, so I don’t expect the real Bolton family are too chuffed by the similarities.
The castle is worth a visit, but you don’t need too long. It has a nice teashop, and clean loos, plus wild boar (which were hiding) and birds of prey kept in cages (which makes me sad, because birds should be free to fly). It was interesting structurally because you could see in the fallen-down bits how it would have been, and there were enough intact rooms to wander through, but I couldn’t get a ‘feel’ of the place. There were no whispers of ancient people, I couldn’t imagine the people who once lived there and any ghosts left long ago. Pretty views though.
Thanks for reading. Tomorrow I’ll tell you about a much prettier castle, though rather more ruined, that we found beside the road. Take care. Love, Anne x
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We are enjoying a few days in the Yorkshire Dales, staying in a 16th century cottage surrounded by fields of sheep. The cottage is simple, but comfortable, and we’re a short walk away from Hawes.
Pretty 16th century cottage
Today we went to see the animal market in action. I’ve never been to an animal auction before, so it was all very interesting. We arrived during the sheep sales—pens of sheep waiting in a barn. We could hear the chant of the auctioneer, and every few minutes a man opened a door, a few sheep ran along an aisle between the pens, stopping when blocked by a gate that another man held open, they then veered into an empty pen, the man closed the door behind them. It was all very organised. I think everyone else was a farmer, either hoping to buy or sell. But no one frowned at us or asked us why we were there, so we decided to venture into the actual auction.
The auction was held in a room with curved seats like an amphitheatre, the auctioneer at a high desk against one wall and an area at the front with a large pen. The animals were herded along walkways into the pen. Men stood there, and they felt the wool of each batch of sheep. (At least, I think that’s what they were doing, I wouldn’t think farmers would stroke sheep for no reason.) The auctioneer chanted in his sing-song voice, banged his hammer, the exit was opened and the sheep ran out. At one point, a sheep had a loop-out and tried to leap over the fence. Instead of giving her lots of space (which is what I would have instinctively have done) the farmers edged closer, so she was trapped in the corner. Which meant that she couldn’t hurt herself by banging against the fence, nor did she have room to jump again. They obviously knew what they were doing.
I was interested to see a couple of young boys, about ten-years-old, in the ring. (Watching, not being sold!) They had tough boots and sensible haircuts and were obviously farmers of the future. One sat eating a sandwich, the other was at the front, feeling the wool as the sheep came through, copying his dad. They had an ease about them, they had been here before, it was part of the job. I suspect they were rather capable kids, would be handy in an emergency.
We managed to leave the market without buying anything (which was bit of a shame, but I’m not sure how we’d have got a sheep home with us). We walked back to the cottage across the fields. There were calves in the fields, and lots more lambs, a river bubbled next to us with geese swimming, bees buzzed in the blossom, the disused railway line ran over low stone bridges, and the dales rose on either side. A peaceful place in the sunshine. I’m not sure that anywhere really compares with the English countryside on a warm spring morning.
Yorkshire Dales
Hope you have a great day. Thanks for reading. Love, Anne x
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anneethompson.com
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After a fantastic Easter Sunday with the family in Cambridge, we kept driving north for a week away. Despite my vow to never again take elderly dog on holiday, the kennels were all full and so she travelled in a well-prepared boot and all our luggage was on the back seat. Husband had booked an Airbnb, so I told Mum we were off to the Lake District and I would see her in a week.
The roads were empty, so even with a few stops for elderly dog, we arrived at the cottage early evening. Beautiful scenery. No lakes though, so I messaged Mum to say we were in the Peak District.
Our cottage is the middle one behind me. This is my tired face. I need a holiday.
The cottage was lovely, plonked right in the middle of a field with lambs skipping around. There was an enclosed back yard, so even if elderly dog had been at all interested in them, she wouldn’t have been able to reach the lambs. However, the lambs were interested in us—or to be precise, the car. They kept licking the wheels. Husband worried they might nibble something important. I told him lambs don’t have teeth. (This may not be factually correct, but it stopped him worrying.)
Lambs attempting to eat tyres.
On the first day we wandered into town. There were some nice shops selling posh food products. Lots of cheese and wine from Wensleydale. I messaged Mum and told her that actually, we are in the Yorkshire Dales. The nearest town is called Hawes. Husband told me you’d need to be careful not to name your house: The Hawes House, and I nearly fell off the pavement laughing. (This shows the sort of conversations we have when our children aren’t around to correct us.)
The first café we saw advertised bacon butties, so we had a cup of tea and a sandwich. I think it’s a biker café, as everyone else looked slightly like Hagrid, wore leathers and carried a helmet. I’m sure we blended right in though. Very nice bacon butties, so I think we’ll go there every morning.
I attempted a short stroll with the dog. She’s unkeen on hills, so had that ‘tolerant look’ when we set off. Lots of lambs skipped away, but their mothers did not. One mother in particular was very angry that we were in her field, and she walked deliberately towards us, her head lowered. She then stood facing us, and stamped on the ground. I don’t speak ‘sheep’ but the message was very clear. Not sure that elderly dog would fare very well in a stand-off with angry ewe, so we went back to the cottage. Dog returned to her bed with an ‘I told you so’ look. I told Husband he would have to come instead.
We went for a lovely walk across the fields. Husband wore wellies because it might be wet—he walks quite slowly in wellies. I wore walking boots, because they’re comfy for long walks. I walk very fast in my walking boots. You can guess how that turned out. Husband has a clever ordinance survey app on his phone, so he could give precise directions as we walked. I mostly ignored him and followed the footpath signs. This is how our household works. But the walk was lovely, with lambs everywhere and stone walls with little stiles and far-reaching views over the… lakes…peaks… dales.
Hope you have something lovely today too. Don’t forget where you are… Thanks for reading. Take care. Love, Anne x
I thought my first post-Easter blog should be a quick evaluation of the Lent challenge to learn some of Psalm 22 every day. Did you manage to learn some? I found it very tricky, especially those middle sections. There were some lines which I knew very well, and they flowed easily, but remembering where they came was more of a problem.
As we were fundraising for Tearfund, me and Mum decided to make short videos each day. To be honest, this wasn’t my idea, but Son-who’s-in-marketing assured me that no one would sponsor an agency, they would be sponsoring us and therefore we had to ‘put ourselves out there.’ I posted the videos on my Facebook page, and if you have seen them, you will know that we were not very professional! Sometimes we dissolved into giggles, or were distracted by what was happening around us. Once we nearly got run over. We had people come and try to start a conversation mid-recitation (that started us giggling) and sometimes someone would walk right between us, while we were filming (more giggles) or one of us would completely forget what we were trying to say. Even though we stopped the camera and tried to compose ourselves before re-filming, sometimes the giggles bubbled back up to the surface. I don’t think the BBC are going to be phoning any time soon.
However, some media did show an interest. A press secretary from Tearfund contacted me, and interviewed me via zoom. She then wrote a press release, saying what we were doing. Following this, various journals and magazines asked for interviews or articles. It was all very exciting!
The press secretary offered to ghost write the articles for me, but as I am an author I preferred to write them myself (not the one above, that was formed from the press release). Tearfund then edited them and sent them out, which was rather nice. I decided I would quite enjoy having a press secretary. (You have to dream about being famous sometimes, it makes life more fun!) I don’t think we had any extra donations from the media coverage—I learnt that with my books: media attention doesn’t necessarily result in more sales. But hopefully it will have helped people to recognise Tearfund, and next time they see an appeal they will be more inclined to donate.
Making the videos was fun too. We went to a coffee shop, and people heard what we were doing and made donations. We also filmed in various shops (masks firmly in place in the Waitrose check-out queue!) and managed to find a field of lambs to be in the background for one film.
When we started, we weren’t sure how much money to have as our target. Most people seemed to aim for £500, but we weren’t actually sure if anyone would sponsor us. By the end, we had increased our target to £1,000, and managed to raise even more. People were very kind; both the encouraging comments on social media and the donations to our JustGiving page were hugely motivating. If you donated, thank you.
It’s not too late to donate, all you need is a credit card. The link is below.
My attempt to recite Psalm 22 in Hebrew. Not perfect, but I am happy!
Wow! Well done, we made it. Forty days is such a long time! Today, you should be able to recite (or at least read perfectly) the whole Psalm. Thank you for sharing this adventure with me, I hope you have enjoyed it and if you managed to learn it, then feel very pleased with yourself. Let me know how you got on.
It isn’t too late to sponsor me. I am raising money for Tearfund, so they can help people who are living in poverty. Please see my Just Giving page:
A Psalm of David. My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer, and by night, but I find no rest. Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel. In you our fathers trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them. To you they cried and were rescued; in you they trusted and were not put to shame. But I am a worm and not a man, scorned by mankind and despised by the people. All who see me mock me; they make mouths at me; they wag their heads; “He trusts in the Lord; let him deliver him; let him rescue him, for he delights in him!” Yet you are he who took me from the womb; you made me trust you at my mother’s breasts. On you was I cast from my birth, and from my mother’s womb you have been my God. Be not far from me, for trouble is near, and there is none to help. Many bulls encompass me; strong bulls of Bashan surround me; they open wide their mouths at me, like a ravening and roaring lion. I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast; my strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death.
For dogs encompass me; a company of evildoers encircles me; they have pierced my hands and feet — I can count all my bones— they stare and gloat over me; they divide my garments among them, and for my clothing they cast lots. But you, O Lord, do not be far off! O you my help, come quickly to my aid! Deliver my soul from the sword, my precious life from the power of the dog! Save me from the mouth of the lion! You have rescued me from the horns of the wild oxen! I will tell of your name to my brothers; in the midst of the congregation I will praise you: You who fear the Lord, praise him! All you offspring of Jacob glorify him, and stand in awe of him, all you offspring of Israel! For he has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, and he has not hidden his face from him, but has heard, when he cried to him.
From you comes my praise in the great congregation; my vows I will perform before those who fear him.
The afflicted shall eat and be satisfied; those who seek him shall praise the Lord! May your hearts live forever! All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord, and all the families of the nations shall worship before you. For kingship belongs to the Lord, and he rules over the nations. All the prosperous of the earth eat and worship; before him shall bow all who go down to the dust, even the one who could not keep himself alive. Posterity shall serve him; it shall be told of the Lord to the coming generation; they shall come and proclaim his righteousness to a people yet unborn, that he has done it.
If you are new to my blog, then for the next few days of Lent things will be a little different. We are learning Psalm 22, a poem about Easter, to raise money for Tearfund. I am attempting to learn the poem in Hebrew, others are learning it in English, Spanish or Mandarin.
It has been a mental marathon, with preparation to know the Psalm, and recognise the vocab, starting months ago, well before we started to actually learn the poem. I have posted an extract of the poem every day, and now we are nearly finished.
Tearfund is an aid agency, helping people in poverty around the world. I trust them to spend the money wisely.
If you would like to sponsor me, please see my Just Giving page:
Ooh, we are so close now. Well done to everyone who has been learning this.
Day 38, Thursday 14th April
If you are new to my blog, then for the next few days of Lent things will be a little different. We are learning Psalm 22, a poem about Easter, to raise money for Tearfund. I am attempting to learn the poem in Hebrew, others are learning it in English, Spanish or Mandarin.
Do sign up to follow my blog if you want to join our mental marathon. I will post an extract of the poem every day. Learn as much as you can…
If you would like to sponsor me, please see my Just Giving page:
If you are new to my blog, then for the next few days of Lent things will be a little different. We are learning Psalm 22, a poem about Easter, to raise money for Tearfund. I am attempting to learn the poem in Hebrew, others are learning it in English, Spanish or Mandarin.
Do sign up to follow my blog if you want to join our mental marathon. I will post an extract of the poem every day. Learn as much as you can…
If you would like to sponsor me, please see my Just Giving page:
Anne E Thompson 