The Dun Cow and Father Time

I'd not appreciated Durham is a World Heritage Site, though I have visited Durham Cathedral and appreciated the view from its rooftop.

On our recent family walk there was a big metal cow with a stone marker mentioning footsore monks, a cow and a couple of milk maids. So I took a photo to look it all up later. 

Apparently Durham Cathedral is built on a shrine to St. Cuthbert, a local 7th Century Christian hero of sorts, having converted a lot of Danes to Christianity,  The story goes that several monks - this is in the 11th Century - were moving his coffin back to Chester-le-Street (sort of a suburb of Durham) when the waggon carrying his coffin stopped and refused to move. After a three-day fast and prayer session, it was revealed that the coffin should be placed a place called Dunholm, but they didn't know where this was. About this time one or two milk maids came along (the story varies), searching for a misplaced dun (defined as a neutral grey-brown - I'd call it taupe) cow. She/they directed the monks to Dunholm and there they built a white church which eventually became the site of Durham Cathedral, a Norman structure that replaced it. 

I always forget what a really big guy Martin is. 

Also, the word 'dun' is old English for 'hill' and 'holme' is Norse for 'island'. (So my house, which is named Seaholme by the builders, means I live in Sea Island?). In medieval times this word was Latinised to 'Dunelm'. There is a chain of department stores called Dunelm around here. Somewhere in Norman times, Dun Holm was changed to Duresme. No one seems to know when it became Durham. The name Dunelm is apparently hallowed by those associated with Durham, it being the official name of the Bishop of Durham and it refers to any degree earned from the University of Durham. 

So the cow represents the lost Dun Cow - and I believe there is a coffee shop in Durham by that name.

A bandstand with an interesting weathervane grabbed my attention from across the river. Fortunately our walk took us past it on the way back and I got a better photo. Bill knew all about it, having lived in Durham for several years during his childrens' early years. 

The weathervane is a copy of one at Lord's Cricket Ground, London. It shows Father Time removing the bails from the wicket. The quote below is 'Lest Time Bails You Out'. This has something to do with one of the rules of cricket: "After the call of Time the bails shall be removed from both wickets".  I gather there is a cricket ground near this location in Durham. And one can buy a copy of the Father Time weather vane from the shop at Lord's for £400. I wouldn't even attempt to explain one thing about cricket, as everyone I know says it is terribly complicated. Also the games last for days. All I know is that the players wear white.

I take it that this is another of those upper class signifiers of Conspicuous Leisure, having the time to understand and enjoy cricket. 

Shincliffe Wood

We met up with Simon and Katie in the woods near Durham on Sunday. At least we thought it would just be Simon and Katie but Helen and Martin decided to come along as well and to bring Charlotte, their daughter. This made us a party of seven, which may have been illegal, though my vague understanding is that children aren't counted in these groupings. 

In any case, I mostly walked well behind the group. I haven't walked with anyone but Bill so far during this pandemic, even when it was permitted. My experience walking with him is that he's prepared to come much closer to groups of people that I want to. He seemed irritated with my caution and I felt pressured to take more risks so we stopped walking together. That experience suggested I wouldn't be happy walking with other friends either. It's not so much them as navigating all the other people around. A nice sit down in a front garden is much more conducive to pleasant, relaxed conversation. Sadly, for some period the government decided only public places, not private spaces were appropriate for meeting, so that ruled out private gardens, which struck me as short-sighted on their part.  

It turned out to be quite a lovely walk of about four or five miles. It seemed much longer given the terrain and the occasional crowds. I must admit I felt a bit overwhelmed at times. Even though signs everywhere warn to keep a 'social distance' even outdoors, no one appeared to pay it any mind whatsoever. We went along the riverside, crossed a bridge and continued the other side of the river until a detour took us through a wood full of blue bells. The white flowers, Bill's app told us, were stitchwort. I don't know what the lovely chartreuse coloured leaves were but the blue bells - which look more purple to me - and those green leaves made a wonderful contrast and reminded me of WI colours - or suffragette colours.

Though I didn't have much conversation, I got a lot of crochet done in the car on the way down and back. We did this 30 minute trip twice since Bill thought we were to meet at 11 but upon checking when we arrived, it was 1. So we went back home, had lunch, and returned. My blanket I've worked on for about three years is finally done - except it needs blocking. I see errors that could be fixed, but I'm fed up with the thing. I'll send it off to some refugee camp or other as originally planned. It was mostly about being a learning project. What I learned was not to knit a blanket of squares using scraps of yarn others have discarded. 

I saw on Facebook that a couple of former work colleagues, Jamie and Bev, had also just been to Shincliffe Wood the very same day. Shame we didn't run into them - it would have been nice to chat. 

Preston Cemetery

We took a five mile walk the other day and happened to pass Preston Cemetery, which was closed a few weeks ago. We've both enjoyed runs through here in the past and so we took an unplanned detour to visit again. There are always local people in there to walk, not just to mourn. I did keep a sharp eye out for any possible burial services going on to give them a wide berth. I'm pleased to say we saw none that day.

It seems to me that cemeteries here in Britain are quite different than the ones I've been involved with in Oklahoma. For one, cemeteries here are run by the local authority, not privately owned like in the US. The newer graves seem to be located in one area and those grounds are reasonably well kept. We noted a lot of graves covered with not just flowers, but stuffed animals, small statues, a variety of 'interesting' plant pots, mostly empty, what we agreed was a lot of garbage. However part of me wondered who gets to decide what is an appropriate way to mourn? I just know that in the cemeteries where my parents and grand parents are buried you get one fixed plant pot for flowers and that is it, doesn't matter how big the stone, they like their grounds tidy.

We noticed the older graves had less decoration but many had the grave outlined with a raised bed filled with gravel or coloured stones. The latter tended to be scattered, probably by magpies which are known for being attracted to shiny objects. 

The really old graves were in a section where the grass grew as high as the grave markers. Good luck finding an old grave in there. This is a common practice which is justified as 'good for the birds and bees'. I don't doubt it is. I suspect that most family members have ceased visiting these graves and that is why the council gets away with this. Or perhaps there is in the burial contract a specified number of years the site will be maintained?

Some years back there was a problem with these old stones being knocked down by kids hanging out at night in the cemetery. I believe the gates are now locked at night but there was a period when all local authorities had a programme of moving fallen or loose stones, either to the perimeter wall or placing them flat on the graves. This was in the name of 'health and safety' but some of those stones were definitely vandalised, which I find scandalous. I suspect the main activity of the kids was drinking or drugs, but part of me wonders how many babies have been conceived in cemeteries around Britain. Almost has a kind of symmetry, that.

One of the pleasant surprises we had was discovering a couple of military grave areas, one for WWI and another for WWII. They were lovely and neat with flowers planted between the largely identical graves stones, with some older stones mixed in. More than just tidy, elegant was the word that came to mind. Bill said this would be the work of the War Graves Commission, an organisation I never knew existed. I've been here almost 25 years and I'm still learning about my adopted country.

Turns out it's the Commonwealth War Graves Commission and there is a lovely little video that shows largely what they are about and looking at the map showing the breadth of their commitment worldwide, it's pretty impressive.

Nicholson's

On one of our walks we passed Nicholson's butchers in Whitley Bay. We've never shopped there as theirs are premium prices but they are, I gather, doing a roaring trade in this time of lockdown. I'm glad to hear they will pull through. 

I'd never noticed the very instructive signs outside their shop. I've some times wondered if the US and Britain label their animal parts differently.  Do you know?

Collecting Rainbows

I was glad I had my camera when I saw these daffodils.
I would have kicked myself otherwise. They are fading fast.

One of the biggest habit changes I've had to make with starting to blog again is to remember to carry my camera around. On our front door a post-it note faces outwards to remind us to 'Wash Your Hands!' while another faces inwards so that before I go out I'll remember to get my 'camera'.

This is a weird picture, I know. The rainbow is made of a bunch of dots, 
which was different. And I loved the flowers in the window. But then glass
makes life awkward at times and that darn shadow
on my camera lens - it comes and goes.

Bill is still running and we both go for walks several times a week. One day on my normal route around the park, the riverside and the seafront I counted 91 people with whom I needed to negotiate space, doing that little dance we all do these days if we are sane and sensible. After that Bill and I started finding other places to walk. Beautiful as the sea is, it's not worth dying to see. 

Then we started walking after a slightly earlier dinner and there were a lot fewer people around. 

When all this started it seems the kids staying at home were encouraged to paint rainbows to put in the windows. As I originally understood it this was about giving older people something to count / collect as it were. Then it changed into being about the NHS workers, then other essential workers like in the food sector. Later people began putting stuffed bears and other animals in their windows, I gather for children to count / visually collect.

At least that's how I understand it. In the first week or two of March we weren't watching BBC news and so other people seemed to have information we didn't about how things were developing, in spite of reading newspapers online every day. We've gone back to not watching the news as it is just a bunch of numbers we can't do anything about other that what we are already doing. 

Do they do rainbows in the States I wonder?

Easingwold - Part III

This is my final post about our last weekend of freedom before life changed so drastically. We were attending the Long Distance Walkers' Association AGM. They are good at finding inexpensive and interesting accommodation, in my experience. This year we were at the Cabinet Office's Emergency Planning College, an odd arrangement of old and modern that one often finds here in Britain. I never did explore the area much given the short time we were there, but we pulled into an estate called The Hawkhills, checked in at a rather grand building and were housed across the car park in a somewhat modern building, using a card for entry at multiple points.

I'd heard of this Emergency Planning College from a former college who worked in ... emergency planning, a former ambulance driver. His job was to represent the health service at meetings of police, fire and ambulance types to plan what to do in the event of major catastrophes like bombs, chemical accidents and ... pandemics. I was rather gratified to see the place for myself even if it was 12 + years after my retirement.

The reception and meeting rooms are in this building

We were given a room for disabled people which while not very attractive probably did have the advantage of more space. Neither of us were excited about the wet room arrangement, but it turned out this was inflicted on everyone. The closet space was pretty generous, but the hangers were as usual scant. However, the kettle and the hair dryer worked fine, the bed was comfy and the view from the window quite pleasant and private.

The view from our room - and the window was quite large. 

As I said at the beginning I had my doubts about coming to this gathering and there was the odd hint of something different, mainly large pump bottles of hand sanitiser at the front desk and in the dining hall above where you picked up a tray at the buffet.

It took me many shots to get a sideways view of this bird, a pheasant, I believe.

On Saturday night there was a speaker, a mechanical engineer who had served on nuclear submarines for a couple of decades but, retired from that, now led groups on mountain walks and travelled the world. He began his talk saying it was be about motivation and change, which interested me, but it ended up being more about submarines and walking, which he felt would more interest his main audience - I had a brief chat with him on our way to our respective cars. The main thing I remember was that the LDWA president greeted him with an elbow knock, which made everyone laugh nervously, before introducing him. Of course there was no social distancing at that point as the concept was yet to be introduced.

Just past reception, notice board on right, heading to the dining hall.

Elbow bumping clearly wasn't going to take off very quickly, though. On Sunday morning I sat knitting in reception waiting for the official business meeting to end. I noticed a young couple arrive and be greeted by the staff with handshakes all around. I suppose old habits die hard. 

No idea what was upstairs. Likely too grand for the likes of us.

Before sitting down to knit, I looked over the bulletin board showing courses to be held in the next week (I rather doubt they were). I considered the coming pandemic and had the ridiculous thought that it was about time we had a real event instead of just a bunch of boys (because they are mostly men) running around 'practicing'. At least the training might be put to use, though judging from the government's performance to date, they didn't train the right people. 

Even Bill remarked on the oddity of a fireplace in a hallway.

Apparently there is an even grander building somewhere on the grounds which I never saw. There was the occasional reference to 'the Love family' who were in coal mining in County Durham, whereas The Hawkhills is located in North Yorkshire, which is just south of County Durham (which is just south of Northumberland, except that in 1974 they invented a new county called Tyne & Wear, but lots of people ignore it - North of the Tyne is Northumberland, south of it is Durham). People would mention this other building and 'the Love family', and Bill knew they were in coal mining in Durham.

I believe behind this grand window is the kitchen - which produces excellent food.

It took me a while to find anything about this Love family other than a Mrs. Katherine Love had a cottage hospital built on the grounds in 1893, but couldn't find anything else about her. I did find a mining history website that linked the name Joseph Horatio Love with Brancepeth Colliery in County Durham. I was astonished to read the the colliery opened in 1840 and didn't close until 1967. With a male name I eventually found this great website, which I gather is a collaboration between universities. It indicates that Durham University has 2 boxes containing 107 items to do with the Love, Pearson, Ferens and Marshall families. 

Another mysterious - and rather twirly - staircase.

Part of the description includes: 

"Joseph Love (1796-1875), son of William Love, a miner of New York, near South Shields, County Durham - they are wrong, New York is near North Shields, Northumberland - married in 1825 Sarah, daughter of Isaac Pearson, timber merchant, of North Shields, Northumberland. Joseph Love became a wealthy miller, shipowner, property developer and colliery owner, associated in particular with Chester-le-Strett, Shincliffe and Willington, County Durham and Durham City. He was a generous supporter of the Methodist New Connexion.
Joseph and Sarah Love had one son, Isaac Pearson Love, who died in 1854, leaving an only child Joseph Horatio Love, born in 1853, who subsequently lived at The Hawkhills near Easingwold, Yorkshire. Isaac Pearson Love's widow Sarah (nee Stephinson) in ca. 1857 married Robinson Ferens (died 1892), originally a draper of Durham City and Willington, County Durham. Robinson Ferens became a member of the Methodist New Connextion perhaps in ca. 1857. After his marriage he was appointed manager of Joseph Love's collieries. He later joined with Love as a partner in developing new collieries and after Love's death in 1875 had sole direction of the collieries, becoming wealthy."

Several such rooms extended from the one with the buffet.

Just goes to show how marrying well can change one's fortunes. Almost makes me want to go down one day and find out how the Marshall's tied into the story.  

A little porch where I had my breakfasts when Bill was off walking.

Better yet, I'd love to return to Easingwold and explore further.