Canada, The joy of travel

September 13^th 

I have never been so early ready and prepared for a trip as this time. I started packing and checking and doing the laundry a few days in advance, so I could even cope with a visit of two hours and a 45 minute telephone call the evening before my departure. A kind friend collected me and drove me to Schiphol in plenty of time. Just as well. I thought I had checked everything several times and wondered why I could not check in at home. So I tried the machine at Schiphol, which also refused to check me in. Then an air-hostess told me where to go. So I joined a line, waited till it was my turn only to be told that I had to go to a row of desks opposite.  Again I waited, and when my luggage had been weighed, and all the papers – or almost all – checked and I had been allocated a seat, the airhostess asked for my ESTA document, which I produced. Apparently it was outdated, which I did not know. So I had to pick up my bags again, and go to a special computer, one of three close together, to apply for a new ESTA document. These were dreadful machines with touch screens which either reacted too slowly, not at all, or too quickly. It took ages to fill in the forms, and when they were all done, and it was time to pay by credit card, the forms miraculously disappeared and the screen told me that I could expect the document by mail in about 7 days! That clearly wouldn’t do and I started the whole procedure again, with the same result. It was rather hopeless. And it wasn’t just me, quite a few people, mostly men, were waiting their turn and were cursing the machines. A woman was in tears, fearing she would miss her plane and thus her holiday. There was nobody to give us any assistance. In the end, when we all despaired, an official came to our rescue. No document, but a number was all we got after having paid by credit card. With this I was sent again to a desk, and when I suggested that the other row of desks opposite would be better, she said: No. So I waited again, and when it was my turn the air hostess told me I was at the wrong desk and should go to the other desks opposite. Here I waited again. But lo and behold, when I had given her the number, I was finally issued with my boarding card! The whole procedure had taken an hour or so, which meant there was no time left for shopping as the terminal was right at the other end of the building. I longingly looked at the electronics shop, but had no time to look around. Perhaps just as well, as I noticed that my new camera would have been a lot cheaper if I had bought it here. 
Once on the plane we were all given similar forms as the electronic ESTA form, and I had to start all over again! It seems overdone and rather paranoid to me.

After all the hassle it was a surprise to see the big church in Haarlem from the air, looking like a wooden toy, surrounded by lots of miniature red roofed houses and buildings, straight from the toy box of a young child.

At Minneapolis we landed some 30 minutes late. Here too, the terminal for Canada is kilometers away from the one for the transatlantic flights. So I walked at a fast pace for 15 minutes at least, to get at the gate on time. Because at Minneapolis we had to go through customs, pick up the suitcase and put it back on a conveyor belt and go through security again. Every traveler knows the drill of undressing bit by bit, as if being admitted to prison, no jackets, no shoes, no belts, no metal jewelery, fluids in small quantities in clear plastic bags, laptop open etc. Once at the gate I thought I had made it. But I was called to the desk over the intercom as something was not right. They did not tell me what but started typing in my name and many other data, were on the phone all the time, waiting for a response or the all clear, etc. I despaired of ever getting to my destination on time, but lo and behold after some 20 minutes I was given the all clear, issued with a new boarding card and could finally board the plane just 5 minutes before take-off.

More forms to fill out, now for Canada. But at last, after a rather short flight of just over an hour, I reached my destination. Once more through customs and passport control. I had a seat at the back of the plane, which meant I was the last person out and the last one to retrieve my luggage. But I had reached my destination. My friends who were waiting had almost given up hope as I was the very last person to emerge through the glass sliding doors. It was a happy reunion. All is well that ends well.

Gardens, houses, the beach and Evensong

A wonderful weekend, the last days of summer and warmer than most of our real summer days!

It was a weekend with lots of activities, happenings and all sorts of events all over the country. "Open Monument Day" was a national event. It takes place once a year in September, when monuments such as historic buildings and churches, are open to the public. This time the emphasis was on gardens around historic buildings: country houses, castles and private houses. It also was national pipe organ day, among other things. Anyway, the weather was absolutely glorious, a last chance to wear that summer dress! I had plans to go to Breda, but as so often in the weekends, there were no trains going to or from Breda due to...? It wasn't quite clear. So I decided to walk to two very nice and old houses, one could be called a "mansion", just some 7 minutes from where I live, which had opened their gardens to the public. 

I had often admired the front of the biggest house from the road, and from some paths through the woods at the back, but the gardens are well hidden from view. They are really wonderful, partly in the English landscape style, partly more formal. It is called the French style, but in fact to me it resembled many English gardens, like Hidcote Manor Gardens which I visited again last month. 

They both have garden rooms, separated by tall and very neatly pruned hedges. This garden also had a very nice swimming pool, surrounded by floral borders and with very inviting seating areas. I was allowed to take pictures, but not allowed to publish them. So I will only show those which are in fact public as one can see as much from the road. Or pictures of flowers which doesn't reveal much of the gardens.

The owners sold coffee and other drinks, as well as homemade cupcakes, the money going to a charity. They gave lots of interesting information about the house and the gardens and the history of the former estate which was much larger, including the woods at the back and the next house I went to, just a short walk away. The small one had been completely modernised inside, but the outside was as it used to be and to me very attractive indeed. Apparently it was bought by the son of one of the women I used to play golf with years ago. That is to say, she played, I had lessons and never really played!  She was on duty as a guide and we were very surprised to see each after so many years. She gave me a personal tour of the house!

The weather was absolutely perfect for a leisurely walk to the houses and back through the wild wood, which once belonged to the estate, later to the mental hospital, but now is open to the public. It has some interesting plants, and a bridge dating back to another era, when this was still private property.

One of four "dragons" on the railing of a bridge in the woods. 

In the afternoon I went to the beach with a niece and her two children and some friends. It was ideal: not too hot, not too cold, not even very busy, clean and clear water, no jellyfish to spoil the fun and a very high water temperature – at least for the North Sea.  A perfect Day.

It is amazing how many people were about on bikes, cycling for the sheer pleasure of it. Now that electric bikes have become very popular, many elderly people ride bikes again. In a country which knows what the word wind means, they do come in handy! There are more bikes than people in Holland! Including babies, we have some 17 million inhabitants.

On Sunday morning I just enjoyed the garden. In the afternoon I went to Haarlem to sing Evensong in the BAVO, the main church in the Market Square. This is what we sang:

Introit: Praise the Lord, ye servants – John Blow 
Preces and responses: Gabriel Jackson
Psalm: 146 
Canticles: Noble in B minor
Anthem: Vox Christi – Philip Wilby 
A Prayer of King Henry VI - H.Ley

It was a beautiful service, and in spite of the very warm weather the church was relatively full. The town itself was still bustling with people, as here too Open Monument Day had attracted lots of visitors who were now relaxing and enjoying food and drinks on the many sidewalk cafe's around the church and in the market square.

The singing was wonderful, and afterwards we relaxed in the market square facing the back of the choir, with well-deserved drinks! Aren't those robes hot!

 The famous Muller organ

Choir stalls with one of the misericords, not used by our choir since we sang in the nave.

The following link is to the recording of the complete service of evensong. It takes quite a few minutes before anything happens and the service begins!

https://docs.google.com/open?id=0B4DaoFNIqbgMaUhsR2JDNG1OUzg

It was a wonderful and perfect Sunday, even though my voice was still rather hoarse because of the dreadful cold and bronchial infection I suffered from this past week, and the effect of the antibiotics. But at least I sang in the choir and did not have to sit in the congregation, biting my heart out that I couldn't join in.

The weekend was as warm and summery as the last weekend I spent in England after our singing week in St. Albans. A perfect day.

Ifield-Tenterden-Dover-Calais-The Netherlands

Monday: Another glorious day, but alas, time to leave.

I have seen too many motorways, so I decide to take the A roads. After all, it is almost a horizontal line from Ifield to Tenterden.

churchyard around St. Mildred's Church Tenterden

And I love these narrow, winding roads, with unexpected turns and dips, so I hope to enjoy the drive. However, the going is rather tortuous. I get lost twice driving through East-Grinstead which seems to have spread since I last went there, and in Tunbridge Wells, which is very busy indeed. Although I hate using a satnav, I use it twice to get me on the right track again. And as for a leisurely drive enjoying the countryside, traffic on these roads seems to have multiplied too and the speed on these roads amazes me. Besides, there are road works in Tunbridge Wells which doesn't help. I am trapped when I read Long Delays. There is no alternative route here. In the end it takes me over two hours to drive just 77 kilometres. But I have seen more than if I had taken the motorway, which is a much longer but also a far faster route.

Friends' garden at Tenterden

At least I am in plenty of time for a lunch with friends in Tenterden, enjoyed again al fresco, in another lovely and not so small garden. The best thing of course is literally breaking bread with friends. And after lunch I still have time to spare to go into Tenterden and do some last supermarket shopping for the things I can't get in the Netherlands.

Another drive along country lanes, this time on B roads, towards Dover, a distance of some 55 kilometres. What never happened to me before happens now: the ferry, a late one already, is 1,5 hours late due to fog and technical problems, which means that we see a beautiful sunset just before sailing into Calais. By the time we disembark and I can hit the road it is 21.30 and getting dark, and I have some 350 kilometres to go. One advantage is that there is not so much heavy traffic like lorries and trucks. The disadvantage is that all the restaurants along the motorway curiously enough close around 22.00 hours. So apples, a bottle of water and a package of cashew nuts help me survive and still any hunger pangs.

Home around one o'clock, and already longing to return to the English countryside. At least the noise of planes landing and taking off, reminds me of Ifield under the smoke of Gatwick Airport.

Sunday

We started by walking the dogs early while it was still cool. The fields were amazingly wet, and the threshing and baling machines had to wait till the sun had dried the land and crops. Then coffee and a change of clothes before church. Ifield Church is very old, and interesting. 

 Ifield Church and the Lychgate

One can walk towards it through the fields, very rural indeed, but we went by car. So near modern Crawley and Gatwick Airport, it is surprising to find an authentic old church plus the cottages around it. The church, built on an earlier wooden one it is thought, was recorded in the Domesday Book of 1086. It also served the nearby priory of Rusper, and Rusper Road is where my friends live. The congregation was very friendly, my host did the intercessions. His wife is a reader. 

Ringing the bell in the tower

There are three bells, one is rung by a warden before the service. Although a pretty church in an old churchyard and surrounded by characteristic cottages, I was surprised that people can spoil an old church not thinking of its history.

One of the old cottages around the church. Very desirable and very expensive

The porch has nice columns in a gothic style, but they have been closed with some wooden boards or planks. They should be repaired and opened up, I think.

The outside of the porch

The modern wooden floor and the light wooden pews may be made of beautiful wood, but they look very strange in this old church, and clash with the style of the church. Worst of all is the oldest object in this church, the 12^th century Norman font. It had been placed in front of the choir. A lectern was placed on it and a microphone, and it was used as such. The lectern forms a lid on the baptismal font and can be lifted if needed. It seemed sacrilege to me. 

The font/lectern

Of course churches have to be lived in, to be used. The Victorians also changed a lot and added the high altar against the East wall which is no longer in use. But using an ancient font as a lectern? It beats me.

 Ifield Church. Above: two altars

We left quickly after the service to make it home as a storm was brewing, which fortunately did not hit us in the end but rained upon others. The planes however took a different flight path, right over the house, to avoid the storm.  The sky was amazing.

The storm which never happened

Later in the afternoon we went to Worth Abbey, a Benedictine monastery with a school attached to it, and a very large, modern church, an amazing piece of architecture. It is used for retreats, conferences, study groups and the like. The new wooden pews were true works of art, but already showed cracks in places where the different pieces of wood were joined together. 

 Above, one of the side chapels in this stunning round church (below)

To the left: the school buildings. 

In the middle: the abbey, chapel and living quarters of the monks

To the right: the round church open to everybody

The location of the church on the hillside with wide views over the countryside is splendid. After visiting the church we went for a walk around the grounds, to gardens meant for meditation and study. My friend has taken several study courses here, and I can think of no better place. Here are some pictures of the interior of the church.

In the evening we enjoyed another al fresco meal till it became too dark and chilly.

I did some packing, but left most of it for the next morning. The stars were amazing, and I heard owls during the night.

From the Cotswolds to Ifield

Friday and Saturday August 17-18

It was with feelings of nostalgia that I left for Ifield, for next time I see my friend, she may have moved after 22 years in this paradisiacal property. Ifield is almost swallowed up by Crawley, although it still is part of the greater area of Horsham, and next to Gatwick Airport. I took the back lanes through the Cotswolds, and wound my way through the narrow approach to Fairford to have one last look at the village and the magnificent church. Then on to Lechlade on the Upper Thames, here still a rather narrow stream, and past the approach to Buscot Park and House towards Swindon and the M4. I had no time to visit the house or grounds, which is a pity because Buscot Park is very beautiful and most interesting for garden lovers. I had visited it once before with my late husband, and we both loved it. The walk to the 13^th century church is very rural and utterly charming. The land lies low and both Buscot and Lechlade get flooded occasionally. The hump bridge across the river Thames has traffic lights as it only accommodates single lane traffic. It is the only bridge at Lechlade.

It was raining when I left the Cotswolds, but nearer my destination and along the M4 it gradually became drier and sunnier. As advised and in order to avoid a nasty part of the M25, I cut across to the M3, travelling through Bracknell and Bagshot. In theory this may have been a good idea, but not on a Friday afternoon during the rush hours. Besides, my advisor never mentioned the many roundabouts, a most infectious disease in the UK, and the innumerable traffic lights to get me through Bracknell and Bagshot. However, I arrived in time for an evening meal which we had in the garden. In Ifield it was very hot and had been so for a couple of days. It was still 32 degrees Celsius, my first really hot day since my holiday in England. So it was lovely to enjoy a cold drink in the shade and sit out in the garden till bedtime, with candles and some parasol lights, nice food and a bottle of wine. Even more lovely, as I was with very dear friends who made me  most welcome. 

So did the two labradors! Isn't it amazing when dogs take to you, which they did, and lie at or even on your feet, keep watch at the bottom of the stairs when you go up and seem really happy to see you. And I have never been a dog lover! Until quite recently, just a few years ago, I was even scared of them.

Hot days equal lazy days. We went out mornings and evenings to walk the dogs in the fields just across the road opposite the house. There is a winding stream there, which has formed a deep but narrow gorge, with steep banks, ideal for kingfishers, But it was too hot for them I think. It was harvest time. Threshers and balers were busy each day after the dew had evaporated till late in the evening to gather in the wheat and straw.

Playing hide and seek

The dogs disappeared completely in the ripe wheat, just showing their tails and occasionally their backs above the undulating grain, as a flag or rudder in the air, to tell us where they were. It was hilarious. Unfortunately I did not capture them at the right moment. Nor did I catch the beautiful golden evening light slanting across the fields, the machines followed by a golden dusty mist, and planes ready for landing above the fields in the blue sky. 

The river or brook

The garden is more like a park and at the very end has access to Ifield Golf Course. So we heard the clonk-clonk of balls being hit all the time. My friends could make a profit if they sold the balls which end up in their garden.

 Standen

We visited a National Trust property on Saturday afternoon, Standen, an arts and craft home, the result of the combined efforts and ideas of the architect Philip Webb and William Morris. It was nice to be inside and to see the collection of china, the laid table in the dining room, and the William Morris wallpapers and decorations. It is a house one could feel at home in. There was even a separate staircase and tower room for the children to play in. We walked around, and finally also walked through the steep gardens, but in fact it was too hot in the sun. There are nice ornamental and kitchen gardens, special gardens for bees, an orchard with apple trees, a croquet lawn and a pond which was used for swimming at one time, but now looked far too green and slimy to invite anyone to jump in, not even in this heat wave.

Standen

National Trust properties are always great for lunch, so we enjoyed one before we actually went round the house. And of course browsed in the attractive shop, hunting for presents, a legitimate excuse for buying things one does not really need.

 Some pictures of my friends' house and large garden

 This is called a mackerel sky

Back home in the evening we enjoyed a BBQ together with a friend of the family who came by unexpectedly. We stayed out in the garden till rather late. 

Cotswolds, day 4

Thursday August 16

Today started with a clear sky, then the clouds came, there was a light rain, and after the rain came clouds and sunshine. Anyway, in spite of the weather forecast we decided to do something today. This is an old house, with beams and slanting floors. When I walk in my small bedroom, I have the feeling I am drunk. The floors are very uneven and not completely horizontal. A marble would immediately start rolling. But that is also the charm of this sprawling house, which also has modern additions and a conservatory.

My temporary front door which is seldom used

The windmill viewed from my bedroom window

From my bedroom window which is on the front of the house I have a view of the watermill opposite, now privately owned and no longer in use, although the river Coln passes under the house and then along my friend's garden.

 Some more pictures of my friend's garden

When I leave the house in the morning for a walk in the garden, a large group of ducks, some 30 or so, excitedly waddle up to me to see I if have come to feed them. So do two swans, who almost follow me into the kitchen and are quite offended when I do not offer them any food. They make hissing noises, and really do not love me for it!

The local village shop and post office

After a leisurely breakfast and all sorts of delays we set off for Stow-on-the-Wold, via winding and narrow country lanes, some of them single track.

The hunting lodge

We pass a strange house, apparently a hunting lodge which consists of a large dining hall, a kitchen and many bedrooms. Nothing else. Fox hunts are now banned, but nevertheless one goes on hunting in these parts of the world. On to Stow, a very lively and touristy market town. It is situated high on a hill, and boasts a village green with the medieval stocks, a old church with Victorian glass, several tearooms, hotels and guesthouses, but also very attractive shops.

 Kneeler in Stow Church

Stow-on-the-Wold

Cook shops and shops with country clothing . So I score in the cook shops and buy a very attractive jacket/fleece, at a discount. Parking is free but scarce. My friend doesn't follow me into the shops because of the nice dog we have with us. On we go, after buying some delicacies at the baker's, to Hidcote Manor Gardens, a National Trust property.

 Hidcote Manor Gardens

They are beautiful gardens which I once visited in a former life together with my husband.

On our way there we are almost smoked out by farmers who are burning the stubble off their fields after the harvest. So much easier than ploughing it under. The smoke makes it difficult to see where we are going. Meanwhile it looks like rain, so we decide to ignore the teashop and the plant shop and first go through the garden. I recognise the house and the impressive gates on two sides, offering splendid views across the Vale of the river Avon. Hidcote is built on a hill, and the gardens are terraced and divided into garden rooms, separated by high hedges. The different parts have different colours: there is a white garden, a blue and lilac garden, a warm garden with orange and red colours, and deep maroon. There is a lily pond and a bathing pool, too green by algae to form any temptation to a visitor. I enjoy the colours, the different leaves and textures enormously. As it is built on a hill, the terraces go down.

Hidcote

The many hedges break the wind which is not hindered by anything else up here. Just when we have more or less concluded our tour, it begins to rain, so we have tea and a cake - for me a scone with clotted cream and black currant jam – inside a restaurant.

My friend goes to see if the dog is well, and I browse in the NT shop, always a treasure trove, and come back with two heavy photo books which have been greatly reduced and are not even half price, but a third of the original price. No book lover or nature lover, nor any keen photographer could pass them by without buying!

Home in the rain, but still fantastic views from the road on this ridge across the valleys and views of the yellow stubble on the harvested fields. Passing through Chipping Camden I wish I had taken my own car. It is such a special town. The old market stalls of Cotswold stone, the golden houses, some under a very thick and cosy thatched hood, the deep hedges pruned in the form of snakes and strange creatures, it is all so very attractive that I wonder why I live where I live. Of course, I could not afford to live here, not even in the tiniest cottage. The accident of birth, I suppose, or something similar.

Home, tea in the garden with unexpected visitors, a nice meal and the evening is almost gone. It seems this village hasn't had the rain we had at Hidcote Manor.

I take some more pictures of the garden and the house, and we enjoy a leisurely evening. I am sorry to leave tomorrow.

My friend's garden