UK 2014 Tour: Day 4: Visiting the Olds

I was up at the crack o’ dawn and out running in Chipstead Woods. Actually, that’s not true: I was not up at the crack o’ dawn – I was up at 0645 and out pounding the forest trails at 07:00 or so. I was rewarded this morning by the sight of three deer in line astern crossing the path in front of me. As keen readers of this blog will know Chipstead Wood was a medieval hunting wood and these deer are descendants of ancestors that escaped the efforts of the medieval hunters.

The birds were in evidence this morning. I have been reading (and today finished) "An Edwardian Requiem: A life of Edward Grey". Grey was the British Foreign Secretary at the outbreak of the First World War and enjoyed (if that is the word) a life of tragedy and disappointment. He worked tirelessly (and as it turned out futilely) to maintain peace in Europe in the years leading up to 1914. On the other hand he was in large part responsible for the development of the relation between Great Britain and America which eased the latter's entry in 1917 into the war. Be all that as it may, Grey was a great naturalist and wrote "There is the loud beauty of the thrushes. Seemingly further away, and in remoter beauty, comes floating the blackbird's voice. The notes are warm, and light as amber, among the sharper flood of song." I could not have said it better myself and I think that is what I heard this morning.

A thrush

We travelled up to Northampton to see my parents. This involved travelling up the M25 and then the M1. The M1 was the UK’s first inter-urban motorway, mostly opened between 1959 and 1968, and about as pleasant to drive up now as it was 30 or more years ago when I first travelled up it. Satellite navigation is a wonderful thing. Certainly it is more convenient than a map. But the uncertainty in former times about whether you would actually arrive at your destination sort of added to the joy of a trip.

The M1 in action - this is a typical holiday snap.

My parents had moved about 6 months ago to a retirement village at a place called Grange Park just outside Northampton. And a very fine place it is and we were pleased to find them happy in reasonable health.

My father with The G. He says I will look like this in 25 years.

One's relationship with one's parents changes as the years go by - not surprisingly. I am lucky that my parents are still around. But they move from a time where they are omnipresent, omnipotent and onmiscient to one where, frankly, you know they are not. My children tell me I am an irresponsible parent (which is a gross calumny). I am reminded of Philip Larkin's poem "This be the verse" which I reproduce here in full:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.

They may not mean to, but they do.

They fill you with the faults they had

And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn

By fools in old-style hats and coats,

Who half the time were soppy-stern

And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.

It deepens like a coastal shelf.

Get out as early as you can,

And don’t have any kids yourself.

How right he is - if perhaps indelicately put!!

We lunched at Kislingbury. In case you have never heard of Kislingbury I will tell you. The village has a long history dating back to 700 – 900AD when Anglo-Saxons settled the area. The River Nene flows near the village. Oliver Cromwell’s troops were stationed there before the battle of Naseby. Hence the name Cromwell Cottage – though I am not clear whether the building predated the battle or not. The battle of Naseby, as I am sure you all know, was the decisive battle of the civil war when Oliver Cromwell defeated Charles II.

Left: Cromwell Cottage and Right: a view of Kislingbury

Driving back was not exactly unmitigated pleasure as we had timed things so that we hit the M25 car park again!!

The evening was spent in wedding preparations. We are here, as you may know, in part for the wedding of my nephew Will to his long-time girlfriend Jodie. The wedding is on Sunday and my brother-in-law, Peter (Will's father) has designed and constructed a bridal arch from silver birch which he describes as “100% ethically sourced (he found it), 100% eco-friendly (it was a dead tree), low miles in the gathering (he found it in Banstead Wood)”. To look at it in the photographs it looks like a random collection of twigs and branches but let me assure you that the design effort that has gone into this is of the highest quality.

The wedding arch - hewn from Silver Beech

We had to do some practice runs in taking this arch down and putting up again. Our practice was highly successful and I am pretty sure that the construction will not collapse on the happy couple.

Here is a video that shows Peter and me assembling and disassembling the arch.

Making the arch required 60 hours of debarking (the branches not a dog) and sanding not to mention the almost unquantifiable hours of design and testing. The result is an IKEA-style flat-pack but without the missing screws and incomprehensible instructions!! We got the disassembly down to 20 minutes and reassembly in 17 minutes!!