My Village, My Home, My Life - part eleven

Chapel House, Tainant

Last week was a great week for family and local history. I left the village of Penycae over 43 years ago, and it's taken me all this time to get an interest in my roots. I think that I'm making up for that, as there's hardly a day goes by without me researching my family, or researching my local area. I'm loving every minute of it, though with over 1000 names now in the family tree, I still haven't come across anyone that has made a big impact on the global scene.

The family over the last 150 years or so have been good, honest, down to earth coal miners, and my admiration grows daily for both husbands and wives as they battled with dangerous jobs, poor money and bringing up large families in two roomed cottages.

My Grandmother's side (Mum's Mother), is the Valentine family, and for at least three generations they came from the tiny hamlet (is that tautology, as is there any other type of hamlet?) of Tainant, which is about one mile outside of the Penycae village. Let me bore you a bit more with some stats about Tainant. According to the website Mouseprice.com, and the Land Registry, there are currently 23 properties in the hamlet, with the oldest being just under 200 years old. The main family home is no longer there, but one or two other properties lived in are still occupied. The most expensive house purchase is Chapel House, which is the converted old Methodist Chapel, and in 2005 sold for £333,000. The least expensive sold for £17,500 in 2000. I tried to take a picture of Tainant when I was up there last week, but because of its topography - winding valley with heavy tree growth on either side - it wasn't possible to see more than one house at a time, no matter where I stood. It has been fascinating piecing together the very large Valentine family that has its roots in Tainant.

Another thing that I did last week was to join the Clwyd Family History Society. Their office and Resource Centre are only a few miles from Penycae, and they focus on the history of North East Wales.  Clwyd no longer exists except as a 'Preserved County', which is largely ceremonial. The area it covered ceased in 1996 and became Conwy, Denbighshire, Flintshire and Wrexham. Regional reorganisation has often amused me, as in 1974 Clwyd was established from a merger of Flintshire, most of Denbighshire and part of Merionethshire. The wheel has largely turned full circle in less than twenty years. The Society is run by volunteers, and produces excellent material for those interested in the family history of that area. One booklet that I came across was the burial register of Salem Baptist Chapel in Penycae, which has been extremely helpful in filling in some gaps in my family tree.

1st Salem Chapel 1806

During my visit to the village last week, I met up with the person who looks after the burial register, who helped me to find my way around the graveyard. During that time, and having coffee with him and his wife at their home afterwards, I learnt much that I was unaware of.

Previously, I'd been researching where Penycae Particular Baptist Chapel was situated, and low and behold this is what Salem had been called in the past. The present Salem Chapel was built in 1878, and while I was vaguely aware that there had been another one before that, I did not know that there had actually been three Salem Chapels.

The picture opposite is of the first Chapel, which was opened in 1906. "T Capel Cyntaf" means the first Chapel. Two cottages at the top of Bridge Street were converted into the Chapel. This is opposite the small graveyard which was used by that Chapel. Unfortunately, all burial records from that time were lost a long time ago. The plaque which you can just see between the upper floor windows is in the present Chapel. This Chapel lasted for about twenty years, before there was the need to provide a bigger, purpose built building.

2nd Salem Chapel 1825

In 1825 the newly built second Chapel was opened. It stood on the corner of Bridge Street, Chapel Street and Church Street, just a few yards from the first building.

It stands directly opposite the present Salem Chapel, and those who know the graveyard can see from the way that they are facing, which direction the Chapel was in.

Though there is a burial register, it is not easy to find graves in what they call this middle graveyard, particularly those that are unmarked, and there are plenty of those. After a while, it became difficult to work out where one line of graves ended, and another started. Mind you, it was damned cold and windy when I was there, so the thought processes were probably weakening.

3rd Salem Chapel 1878

And so, just over fifty years later, the current Chapel was opened in 1878. I think it's a lovely stone building with a graveyard on either side of it. So far, I've found 14 relatives graves at Salem, but as there are another 17 graves with Valentine's in them, there may be more relatives to come.

It was decorated inside about five or six years ago and looks beautiful. It has a balcony at one end (that's the top windows in this photograph), and behind the pulpit at the other end is a magnificent early 20th Century pipe organ. Though Church music, along with all other forms has moved on a bit over the years, I still think it's hard to beat a quality pipe organ, played by a quality musician.

I learnt two things from my new friend at the Chapel. The first was that my Father drove a lorry for a man who ran a local haulage firm in the late 1940's. This filled in a gap that had been annoying me. There was a two or three year gap between when my parents moved to the village, and when he started working for the local electricity company. What had he been doing in that time? While I'm still trying to get official confirmation of this, it looks like he was driving a lorry.

The second thing I learnt was concerning a brother who died before I was born. I think that the first thing I knew about him was when my Father had been buried, and I was eleven. For over 50 years I've been trying to find out information about him; where were they living at the time? And what did it mean when the grave says that he "died in infancy"? My Mum would never speak of it; perhaps it was all too painful. However, last week I found out that the address given was the Wern, which would have been my parent's first married home - this also helped to give me a more accurate time line of when they moved to Penycae. The burial register also said that my Brother died at 11 hours old. In researching the family tree, I've noticed how many children died very young, but 11 hours must have been particularly distressing.

All communities have their stories to tell, but isn't there something special in stories about your village, your home or your life? As soon as I think that I've come to the end, somehow something else crops up, so who knows what the future will bring.

Fun on the Fylde Coast

Blackpool North Railway Station

This is where my journey in the North West began. I left Nottingham by train in warm sunshine, and was met at Blackpool North Railway Station by showers. After 40 years of almost exclusive car journeys, I'm now getting used to train travel. There's just one change at Manchester Piccadilly (Manchester Oxford Road for the return journey), and the best part is undoubtedly between Sheffield and Manchester through the Peak District.

Roy and Aneta

The purpose of my journey was to spend a few days in Cleveleys with my son and daughter in law, Roy & Aneta.

I so enjoy being with them, and they very kindly support my non-activity based approach to having a break. When you see photographs from visits made by other members of both families, you see people climbing walls or cliffs, sailing on lakes or crawling down caves.

Me, I'm terrified of heights, scared of water and petrified of underground. But I do like wandering about, and having lots of coffee and ice cream. Roy does not have to be forced to join me in this very hectic lifestyle of mine. We met up in Blackpool when I arrived, so that we could start the visit with a Costa and cake. I always think that is a very good way to start a holiday.

Cleveleys Promenade

For those who may not know, Cleveleys is situated on the Fylde Coast in Lancashire, between Blackpool and Fleetwood.

It doesn't have the hustle and bustle of Blackpool, but nevertheless, it is quite a busy seaside place. My picture doesn't do justice to the newly completed (nearly) promenade, and I like it very much, though it could do with a little greenary, but perhaps that's on the cards.

The area does go back to the Domesday Book of 1086, though it's original name was Ritherholme, which seems to have derived from the rivulet that flowed into the sea there.

In the history section of the Cleveleys website, it gives a fascinating insight on how the sea has reclaimed so much land over the last few hundred years. It says, "Searching at low tide opposite Cleveleys for the sixteenth century village of Singleton Thorpe, an expedition in 1893 discovered the remains of a cobbled building with roof and wooden lintel. At that time, old boatmen could recall where a wall had existed nearly a mile from the shore". How different it must have all looked then.

Farington Lodge Hotel

Last Saturday, while Roy was working, Aneta and I were taken out by a couple of their friends to have afternoon tea at Farington Lodge Hotel, on the outskirts of Preston.

I don't think I've ever had a traditional English afternoon tea before, and if true, what have I been missing? It was wonderful, sitting in a comfortable lounge area, and eating lots of sandwiches (with the crusts cut off) and fancy cakes, looking out over a garden area. My clinging by a thread, austere Calvinistic philosophy quickly disappeared, and I could take this type of afternoon tea every day.

Farington Lodge has an interesting history. It is a Four Star Grade 11 Listed Georgian house set in three acres of lawns and gardens, built in the 1830's as a family home for William Bashall, a partner in the prosperous Farington Cotton Mill. There were two more owners up to 1911, when until 1931, it was owned by the wealthy accountant James Todd and his family, who had offices in Blackpool, Chester, London, Manchester, Preston and Moscow. When James died in 1931, there was also a slump in the value of cotton shares in which much of his wealth was invested, and the family faced financial ruin.

A family friend came to the rescue with a proposition. He was Henry Spurrier, the first managing director of Leyland Motors. He was looking for somewhere suitable for important visitors to Leyland Motors to stay, and he asked Mrs Todd if she would allow company guests to use some of the bedrooms, and for her to act as hostess, for which she would be paid. She agreed. When it was later known that Mrs Todd was looking to leave the area, Leyland Motors bought the property, and it became Leyland Motors Guest House and used primarily for visiting Directors and dignitaries. This lasted until 1989 when Leyland DAF became insolvent, and the present owners have been in charge since 1994.

For those who can be bothered about such matters - and I do know that there are some royalists among you, guests have included Prince Edward and Mrs Simpson, The Queen Mother, Prince Philip, Princess Diana, and Princess Anne. Now doesn't that make the afternoon tea sound even better? I really enjoyed the afternoon, and the friends were great.

Lytham Hall

On Sunday, Roy was not working, so the three of us went to look at Lytham Hall in Lytham (part of Lytham and St Anne's), and home to the British Open Golf Championship in 2012).

Lytham Hall is a Grade 1 Listed building, built between 1752 and 1764, set in 80 acres of lovely parkland. In fact, the earliest known building on the site was a 12th Century Benedictine Priory, and this remained until the Dissolution of the monasteries by Henry V111 in the 16th Century.

We couldn't go in the house as there was only set times for tours, which was a shame, so we set off for a look around the grounds. The walk was very pleasant through the wooded areas and open grass land, and we decided to lie on the grass opposite the house and have a rest - these younger one's couldn't keep up with me, but I think that we all may have had a wee doze.

We couldn't go an afternoon without tea/coffee and cakes, and we found the tea room. Very refreshing. While the tea room was now very modern, we took our refreshment out into the courtyard which was part of the original Jacobean Hall built in 1606 by Sir Cuthbert Clifton.

The Clifton family lived at the Manor until the 1960's, when it was sold to the Guardian Royal Exchange Insurance Group and used as their offices. It was sold to the Lytham Town Trust, a charitable organisation in 1997, and is managed by Heritage Trust for the North West.

Me and Roy by Lytham Hall fishing lake

There are plans costing £5 million to restore the Georgian Hall, Jacobean Hall and Gardens to their former glory, as well as to make it fit for purpose in the 21st Century. While we were there, the leaflets were saying that they still needed to raise upwards of £3 million. However, as I started typing this blog, I noticed a news flash that said that the remaining money had been found, and that the work could go ahead, with a planned re-opening in Spring 2014. When this happens, "this hidden gem", which had been largely closed to the public for 400 years, will be open all the year round. I don't know why, but I'm so pleased to hear that news, and look forward to a visit in three years time.

North Euston Hotel, Fleetwood

And the excitement didn't stop there.  I was taken for a promised Father's Day meal at Fleetwood's 'crown jewel', the North Euston Hotel. This is a wonderful semi-circular building, built in 1841 to serve overnight guests making the rail journey from London Euston (hence the name, but you worked that out yourself, didn't you?), and then on by Steamer to Scotland. Queen Victoria made that journey in 1847.

Our table was by a window with a view over Morecambe Bay and the River Wyre estuary. I've spoken about serendipity before, and here was another example. As we ordered between 6.00 and 7.00pm, we were eligible for a three course meal for little more than the price of a main meal. Naturally, the three of us had a three course meal. Being a creature of habit, or totally predictable if you like, I had vegetable soup, beef, mushroom and Guinness pie, with Raspberry meringue to finish. I think that the pie was the best I've ever had. We all enjoyed the meal, and I was therefore very pleased with the treat. The hotel is now owned by a local family, who are "dedicated to bringing the hotel's facilities up to date without disturbing the charm of this stunning building".

Welcome Home

Fleetwood is no longer the port it once was, and is trying to get to grips with that fact. It is still the home of the Fisherman's Friend, those disgusting little black sweets so beloved by many.

Fishing has of course dominated the history of Fleetwood, and the image opposite, designed and sculpted by Anita Lafford is a poignant reminder of those days.

The plaque beside it says, "Welcome Home is erected as a tribute to the families of Fleetwood fishermen who have down the years shared the dangers and uncertainties of the industry. Around this spot families have gathered for generations to 'welcome home' their menfolk from the sea". I don't think that any further comment is needed, do you?

My journey has taken in Cleveleys, Preston, Lytham and Fleetwood, and all in the space of a few days. I have loved being with my family - thank you for being there, and of getting to know new places. It has been fun on the Fylde coast.

My Village, My Home, My Life - part nine

Dad - John Henry Evans about 1950

I'm coming up to the age of 64, and with the help of my Sister, and along with millions of other people, I have decided to trace our family heritage. (Millions are tracing their own families of course, not ours - though from what I've seen so far, I could do with their help).

It has now become an obsession, particularly on my Father's side. It is said that "Genealogy is where you confuse the dead and irate the living". If I'd have started this many years ago, I may have been able to take the advice of Mark Twain, "Why waste your time and money looking up your family tree? Just go into politics and your opponents will do it for you".

My family history has meant very little to me up until the last few months, as I was only ever concerned with the present and the future. Now in retirement there is a passion for reflection - I guess that comes with age, but it's also because there is time. I think that the words of Alex Haley ring true. "In all of us there is a hunger, marrow deep, to know our heritage - to know who we are and where we came from. Without this enriching knowledge, there is a hollow yearning. No matter what our attainments in life, there is still a vacuum, an emptiness". And the one thing that I have come to really see the truth of is that Genealogy without documentation is mythology.

Map of Llanrwst about 1915

My Mother came from a long line of William Gronnow's, who up to my Grandfather, all lived in Farndon, Cheshire. There's still some details to complete, but I've settled with going back to the late 18th Century. My Mother and her three sisters were all born, brought up and lived in Penycae. As yet, the family tree has yielded no 'saps' or 'nuts'.

It's my Father's history that has caused me to be locked away in obsessive research - and soon I may be locked away for real.  I've had to wrestle with the stories I was brought up with, and the questions now being asked that challenge some of those stories. This means changing some of the information outlined in an earlier Blog. My Father died when I was quite young, and though I have vague memories of someone who was very kind and tender towards his Son and Daughter, there is still much to learn. I have battled to compose a timeline for him from his birth to his death, and I've had to explore information that is conflicting, obtuse or deliberately misleading, and I'm still not there yet.

One indisputable fact from his birth certificate is that he was born 17th June 1917 at Llanrwst Union Workhouse, and his Mother was Jane Evans, a Domestic Servant from Pentre Broughton, Wrexham. There is a line drawn where the Father's name should be. I'd often wondered why his Mother would have gone from Wrexham to Llanrwst to give birth, as it is around 50 miles away. Research has opened up the possibility that a Jennie Evans (Jane's were often called Jennie, as was the case with my Mother) came originally from Llanrwst, and in the early 1900's, single mum's to be often went to a workhouse as the cost of the birth would be covered by the institution.

The Morton Family

Now comes the fun part - what happened next? It's not so much looking for a needle in a haystack, as the stack has lots of needles, when what we need is thread.

Our family story is that Jennie Evans left my Father when he was about 18 months old, and he was fostered by a family called Morton who lived at Cae Glas Farm in Minera, Wrexham. Jennie is then supposed to have disappeared off the face of the earth.

Unfortunately, this story has had to be questioned, at least the part about Jennie, because the Gwynfryn Council School admittance records show a John Henry Evans being admitted on the 26th June 1922, and the parent/guardian being named as Jennie Evans of Cae Glas Farm. Clearly his Mother was still about and living at the farm when Dad was 5 years of age. I hope that you are still with me.

What is not in doubt is that Dad was fostered by Benjamin and Margaret Morton, but when, is uncertain, as a clarifying Adoption Act did not come into place before the 1920's, so no records exist, and fostering may have been very informal. Dad left school in July 1931 and continued to live at Cae Glas.

Cae Glas Farm as now - very different from then

Benjamin and Margaret Morton produced ten children between 1898 and 1912. William (died aged 4), Allen, Richard, Henry, Stanley, Arthur, Gladys, Dewi (died at birth), Gwen and Nell.

The Morton family picture above shows the parents and the eight surviving children, which was taken sometime between 1918 and 1920. Was Dad fostered at this time? If so, why isn't he in the photo? Or did he come along later? You see, questions, questions.

On leaving school, Dad worked for the Morton family as a farm labourer, until the Morton's retired in 1944, and he seemed to move to Clith House (their home on retirement) with them. We were brought up to believe that Dad wasn't very happy at the farm, and that he wasn't well treated, but I now have to question that, as he was still with them when he got married at the age of 26, so things couldn't have been that bad. One of the reasons for the story I think, is that we were told that Dad slept in a shed on the farm, and not in the main house. Personally, I'm happy to go along with the Morton family history, where on this point, it records that "On the left in the front garden at Cae Glas was a corrugated tin hut in which, towards the end of his life, when he was unable to climb the stairs, Taid (Benjamin Morton) slept; not only Taid but two other workers or guests also - John Evans, aged about 20, and Simon Hughes, a much older man. Simon was probably a farm worker, but John, although also a farm worker, was much more a member of the family".

Information that I would love to be able to verify is that my Dad played the violin, but that one day, Benjamin, when a bit worse the wear from drink, broke the violin. My Son Chris is an accomplished violinist, and it would be lovely to think that this was in the Evans genes; if so, the musical ability skipped a generation with me. Again you see, questions, questions.

Mum & Dad's Marriage Certificate

Dad married my Mother on the 12th February 1944, when he was a farm labourer living at Clith House, Bwlchgwyn, and she was in the Land Army and living in Penycae. The photo below also shows Dad in the army in 1943.

Dad circled 1943

Dad didn't go overseas, and having had the photo looked at, it's possible that he was in the Home Guard, where he would be protecting Minera against the Germans. Sorry, that's a bit flippant; I know how important the work of the Home Guard was right across the country. The next few years are a bit unclear as per this timeline, and it may be that Mum and Dad were working a small farm together in the Minera area.

37a, Hill Street, Penycae

They were however, definitely living at 37a, Hill Street, Penycae in 1947, for that is the address on my birth certificate.

The photo opposite was taken by my Sister in 1968, and corrects a photograph I posted in an earlier Blog. Our house is the one immediately on the left of the picture, but was knocked down, and replaced by a later dwelling.

Round about 1950, Dad ceased to be a farm labourer, and went to work as a lorry driver for the local electricity company, MANWEB. He was there until his illness in 1956, and by all accounts was well thought of as an employee of the company.

Between 1956 and 1958 he was confined to home and Christie's Hospital, Manchester, suffering from Leukemia. He died on the 27th September 1958 as a result of that disease, at the age of 41. His was a simple, but hard life, and everything I can find out about him shows someone with great dignity and warmth. This is one of the reasons why I am now determined to try and fill in the blanks, and correct the myths. It may not be possible to find out who his Father was, but his Mother couldn't have just disappeared; there will be records somewhere, and I will do my utmost to find them. This is a hole in my history that just has to be filled. Oh, why didn't I start this search years ago, when so many more key people were alive?

Mum and Dad

If any family members are reading this Blog, you can view the Family Tree to date here.

Part of the purpose for posting the Blog, is to give people the opportunity to suggest corrections or additions; to try and complete the picture. Don't be afraid to get in touch.

"The family. We were a strange little band of characters drudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms ... and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together". - Erma Bombeck

Jewel on the Cam

View of Kings College from The Backs

This past weekend I was in Cambridge, visiting my Son, Chris and his partner. Chris is Director of Senate House Libraries, University of London, and you can follow his Blog here. I'm really glad that he lives in Cambridge, for if there is a more beautiful and historic City in the UK, then I'd like to see it. We spent Saturday and Sunday exploring (to be more accurate, Chris was showing me around) in muggy heat on the first day, and scorching sunshine on the second day. It is at times like this that I wish that I wasn't carrying so much weight. The photos on here were taken by Chris, except of course the ones with him in them, which were my contribution.

That's me, doing what I do best - looking

What a fantastic City Cambridge is. Though there had been small settlements in the area for thousands of years, it was the establishment of the University in 1209 that brought the place to prominence.

Cambridge is quite small - the 2001 Census records the population as 108,863 (including 22,153 students). I've never seen any place that packs so much interest and history into such a small area. The River Cam, which is a jewel within a jewel curves its way through the City, bringing delight to thousands, at any time of the year. When you walk through the City, it seems as if you're hearing every language on earth, and with camera shutters clicking somewhere every second, I wonder how many photographs we've all ended up in. I have no doubt that from my two days of walking around Cambridge, that Japan is full of photos of Chris and I, as we've inadvertently wandered into shot. Still' I'm sure that they can crop out the short, overweight one.

Cambridge gained its City Charter in 1951, even though it doesn't have a Cathedral, which is normally a prerequisite for city status. It's granted City status because of coming under the Church of England Diocese of Ely. Let's go for a walk around this Jewel on the Cam.

The Fitzwilliam Museum

Chris lives a short walk from the City centre, which means that everything is within easy reach. The narrow streets are not really made for today's traffic, and are thronged with pedestrians and what seems like millions of cyclists, constantly ringing their bells to announce their arrival.

After walking around a bit, it was time for a coffee (like Pooh Bear, it's always 11 O' clock for me). We went to the Fitzwilliam Museum, and as it was too warm for indoors, we sat outside in their cafe area. I've seen the inside before, and though it blows your mind away, that glory can wait for a cooler day.

The Museum owes its foundation to Richard, 7th Viscount Fitzwilliam of Merrion who, in 1816, bequeathed to the University of Cambridge his works of art and library, together with funds to house them. His purpose was to further "the Increase of Learning and other great Objects of that Noble Foundation". The building was designed by George Basevi, who through an accidental death never saw it finished. It was completed by C.R. Cockerell and opened to the public in 1848.

In the view of the Standing Commission on Museums & Galleries, "The Fitzwilliam Museum is one of the greatest glories of the University of Cambridge. It is a museum of international stature, with unique collections most splendidly housed. Like the University itself, the Fitzwilliam Museum is part of the national heritage, but, much more, it is part of a living and continuing culture which it is our statutory duty to transmit". Click here to read more.

Chris and Peterhouse Library

Having enjoyed the coffee and stimulating conversation about the magnificence of the Fitz, it was time to move on. One of the delights of Cambridge is that you can be in the middle of a packed thoroughfare one moment, then turn down a side street, and there's no one there, and perfect peace.

We did that and came to the Peterhouse College Library. With Chris having started as a librarian on the front desk stamping books, and now risen to the level of Director in charge of a large staff team, budgets and collections, we couldn't resist this picture outside the Peterhouse College Library. If my love of books ever wanes, then a few moments talking with Chris would get my juices flowing again. The library is for members (called Petreans) only, so this was the closest we could get.

Peterhouse College is the oldest and the smallest Cambridge college that is still in existence today. It was founded in 1284, and as would be expected, many destined to be illustrious people attended Peterhouse. The college provides a long list of eminent Petreans, such as, Charles Babbage - who originated the concept of a programmable computer; Richard Baker - broadcaster; Henry Cavendish - discovered hydrogen and measured the Earth's density; Sir Christopher Cockerell - inventor of the hovercraft; Sir James Dewar - inventor of the thermos flask and cordite (I'll be forever grateful for the former); Lord Kelvin - developed the Kelvin scale of temperature measurement, and brought electric light to the College, which was second only to the Houses of Parliament; David Mitchell - comedian; Michael Portillo - politician and broadcaster; Sir Frank Whittle - developed jet propulsion.



Kings College Chapel

Right in the heart of the City lies Kings College, and the world famous Kings College Chapel.

It is an imposing building, and possibly the most photographed building in Cambridge.

This is me, doing what I do best, sitting. I still haven't been inside the Chapel for a number of reasons, which is nothing to do with the cost of entry.

Chris and I are determined that next time I'm down, we'll go to evensong on a Sunday, and hopefully hear the choir.

The Chapel building was started by Henry VI, with the foundation stone being laid in 1446. He was unable to see much being done, and it was only in around 1508 that the mantle was taken up again by Henry VII, who unfortunately died the following year. It was left to the reign of Henry VIII to complete the task in 1515.

If you can fight your way through people and bicycles, sitting on the wall facing the College and Chapel is worth doing. Because I've just learnt how to do it, I can't resist posting a clip from the Kings College Choir to salivate over, and to see something of the Chapel interior.



Amongst the crowds packing Cambridge, is an army of young people with small boards under their arms, trying so hard to entice tourists to take punt trips on the Cam.

As Stephen Fry says, "Be careful how you say, Punting on the Cam"

This kind of photograph epitomises for me the life of Cambridge, just as much as its historic and beautiful buildings.

In places the Cam can be a bottleneck, and great fun if you're standing on the river bank or on one of the bridges. There are the 'professional' punters, who are taking groups of people for a leisurely sail on the river, at about £45 a punt, and filling gullible tourist's heads with all manner of stories (to avoid legal action, let me say that I'm sure that the vast majority of Punters do not tell tall stories). There are also those who hire a punt for themselves, so that they can enjoy the thrill of punting down the river on a Sunday (or any other day) afternoon. From what I saw, they are less accomplished generally than the 'professional' ones, and their attempt to start going, or to keep going in a straight line is entertaining. However, it is a beautiful and restful sight, and obviously enjoyed by thousands every year. I certainly enjoyed the time Chris and I spent down by the river.

St John's College

On Sunday, with the sun beating down on the hottest day of the year, Chris and I decided to visit, to give it its full name, The College of St John the Evangelist, or St John's College.

Chris plans to write a blog on this College, so I'll happily leave it to his expertise, and put a link to it on a future blog of mine.

Without doubt, this is the finest set of buildings that I have seen. Its College Charter was granted in 1511, and unlike most other Colleges it has developed to straddle both sides of the River Cam. The Chapel, though small, is amazing, and the number of grassy courts (like the one in the picture above) gives an air of spaciousness.

The Bridge of Sighs

What a happy bunny I seem to be, and that's what I am. Normally I look like Jack Dee at his grumpiest, but here's a smile, and why not with such a backdrop?

The bridge is named after the famous one in Venice, but the only similarity between the two is that both have a roof on them. Oxford has a Bridge of Sighs as well, but that goes over a road.

Enough said. St John's is all yours Chris. I so enjoyed my few days in Cambridge. I was well fed; well looked after, and as ever, it was a delight to spend time with my Son, and to converse on a whole range of subjects. I always come away having being entertained, enlightened and enthralled.

In a strange way, this picture sums up my essence. Sitting on a park bench in one of the many lovely green spaces, cigar in hand, watching the world go by. I do that so well. Do enjoy these other photos.

Chris outside Peterhouse College



Kings College from The Backs



Enjoying a break

Lion guarding entrance to Fitzwilliam Museum

Spiral staircase in St John's College

Inside The Bridge of Sighs

One of St John's College gates