Random shots of kitty neighbors during our time here:

Yesterday, I went with the FSU students of English on a field trip to see places that the Bloomsbury Group lived and/or frequented.  A couple of hours from London near Brighton in the south.  Didn't quite make it to the beach.

Both Ralph and I are sickly.  I am not terribly ill but just feel a little "punk" as Mom used to say.  Ralph had a runny nose and cough all day.  He was fairly miserable and yet excited to be on the trip.  David, an FSU professor in London, was in charge and Marie, a teaching assistant in English, accompanied us.  The students were bright-faced and engaged.  Ralph and I got the impression that they couldn't really take it in.  I think this was one time when our advanced age was an advantage.

It took a very long time to make it through southern London to out in the country.  Some perspective on what an enormous city London is.   Enormous.

The first stop was Charleston.  http://www.charleston.org.uk/  :

"In 1916 the artists Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant moved to Sussex with their unconventional household. Inspired by Italian fresco painting and the Post-Impressionists, the artists decorated the walls, doors and furniture at Charleston. The walled garden was redesigned in a style reminiscent of southern Europe, with mosaics, box hedges, gravel pathways and ponds, but with a touch of Bloomsbury humour in the placing of the statuary.

The rooms on show form a complete example of the decorative art of the Bloomsbury artists: murals, painted furniture, ceramics, objects from the Omega Workshops, paintings and textiles. The collection includes work by Renoir, Picasso, Derain, Matthew Smith, Sickert, Tomlin and Delacroix."

This house is in a beautiful setting.  It's rural agrarian rolling landscape with a mountain ridge to the west running, I believe, north to south,   Vanessa and Duncan moved here during WWI partly motivated by conscription.  For various reasons, men of the group did not go to battle.  I gather one of the provisions of the law was that a man must be doing something to contribute to the war effort if he was not to serve in active duty.  Growing food served this purpose for Duncan Grant.  This is my understanding.  He grew food in the large garden next to the house.

We were told yesterday to imagine their living there without electricity, central heat, or indoor bathrooms.  They say it gets terribly cold there in the winter with the wind whistling through the house.  They keep the windows closed at all times to keep out dampness and insects.  So it was close and a little hot in the house when we were there.  The ceilings were low and there wasn't a lot of light coming in.  

Our guide was a dignified, astute, adept woman maybe a little older than we are.  Very knowledgeable.  Obviously an admirer of the Bloomsbury group.  

There were a surprising number of rooms.  Some of them had changed occupants and/or purposes over the many years they lived there.  I believe I'm right when I say that they leased the house in the beginning from wealthy landholders and they later acquired ownership.  I'm not sure they ever owned it.  After Duncan Grant died, it came into the hands of an association which manages it.  It was run down and dilapidated at that point as Duncan used only a few rooms and did not keep up the rest.  Today, the house and furnishings are very fragile.  We were asked to leave our bags when we toured so they wouldn't bump against things.  At present, a room on the lower floor is not a part of the tour because the ceiling is cracking and is in danger of caving in.  You could feel how fragile it is.  

I wish we had had more leisure to walk through the house.  It was an informative, thorough tour but we had no time to just experience being in the rooms where these people lived and worked.

Still, I found it staggering the talent and creativity of Duncan Grant and Vanessa Bell.  How did they do it?  I know they must have meticulously studied color theory and the work of artists of the past and that they were even acquainted with some of the impressionists and modern artists.  But still I kept asking myself where did they begin to conceive these wonderful fanciful exquisite designs?  Some of it is so playful.  There's so much joy in it.  I cannot imagine what it must have been like to be close friends with such an array of thinkers and artists.  

And they did not live lavish lives.  Again, they moved to Charleston during WWI.  I don't know how I would fare living like that.  

So here are photos and one or two videos.  Remember, the flower garden was a vegetable garden.

And I made these videos just for fun as we arrived back in London on a Friday afternoon when every one heads to the pubs.

 Disappointing that these videos don't work right.

Ralph and I got back yesterday from a four day trip with the students of the FSU international program in London.  Three busloads.  A packed schedule of amazing adventures impeccably planned by the London staff.  On the bus prior to each major stop we were given handouts of information about our destinations.  I was, as a guest, welcomed and respected.  A wonderful, chance-of-a-lifetime experience.

We had to be at the departure location in front of the FSU study center at 7:30 a.m.  Any one who knows me well knows this typically would require a superhuman effort on my part.  Not so.  I was up and alert and prepared to take off despite a bad night's sleep.  So exciting.  London bus trip into town.  Excited students.  Seats reserved for those of us in the faculty party.  On retrospect, I am totally spoiled.  No planning of routes, transportation, reservations, settlement of bills, itinerary.  Just get on and off the bus and follow the leader.  Effortless unless you count lots of walking around the destinations.  Happy pleasant people everywhere.  Students kept satiated and satisfied by their supervision.  She kept them well-fed with snacks, in other words, and well-disciplined.  And, a great misfortune, upon returning to London streets, the bus slammed on brakes and she, who was up out of her seat, went careening into the stairwell at the bus front entrance.  Such a wonderful person and so frightening to hear her tumble down the stairs.  I thought we had hit a pedestrian.  Shocking.  She ultimately appeared to be all right.  Time will tell.  Meghan.

So, off we go.  First destination, aside from a rest stop--which included a Burger King and Starbuck's (where we bought lunch sandwiches), no kidding--was Tintagel (pronounced Ten ta jul with the emphasis on the ta in which the a is pronounced like the a in have).  This is a very small town, very much tourist-oriented but nevertheless quaint, in Cornwall, which is (I don't remember for sure) maybe a five hour drive.  Here we were to see the ancient ruins of a castle complex some like to speculate might have been King Arthur's. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tintagel
First we had free time to roam the town.  Ralph and I had Cornwall cream tea which included sweet pastry at a little tea shop.  The woman who waited on us had an extremely drawn out accent that was, I'm sorry, comical.  An Englishman, who had twinkly eyes that reminded me of Danny, grinned at me about her.

We met the center director who led us rapidly to the location of the trail head of the castle location.  Getting to the trail head required a sizable walk down a steep grade on a road.  Getting from the trail head to the castle ruins required a sizable climbing walk up a steep grade and steps.  The first turn off was a long, steep climb up stairs.  Ralph went and I stayed.  He later told me the crest of this hill was the original entrance to the castle path.  I went on to the main complex with a TA, Marie.  I had to save face by pushing myself past my comfortable limit.  The view from the hill top was magnificent.  This is an ocean view from and of craggy cliffs which fall into the ocean.  The base stones of structures abound.  There was a great hall and then other buildings spread out over quite a distance.  This was a settlement, not just one abode.  The students climbed all over everything including the wall remnants (despite the signs forbidding this) and cliffs.  Hair-raising at times.  There was a well, an ammunitions shack.  The weather could not have been better.  I was spectacular.  The ocean water was a clear greenish blue.  There were a few swimmers.

It took a long time to upload these photos.  Starting to seem hardly worth it.  The internet keeps going out here.  I have to reboot it every time.

Back to the trip.  Next stop is Newquay (pronounced Newkey).  This is a surfing destination world wide.  The waves were not big when we were there.  The students took surfing lessons the morning after we got there.  This town upon arriving in the evening looked like an English version of Panama City or Daytona.  Lots of young people roaming around town.  A lot on skate boards.  Lots of shorts.  Also groups of young men all dressed in the same tee shirts and I'm told these are British version of bachelor parties.  In other words, they dress alike and tour around town all day getting drunk.  There are myriad fast food restaurants and beachy restaurants and bars but in two or three story bay window type old British row houses.  We had dinner at Butcher's something.  Excellent seafood.   The students stayed at a hostel.  We stayed some ways away at a B&B with other faculty.  (Kathleen, the program director; Marie, a TA; David, London faculty and FSU alumnus and British.

The following morning we at the B&B had breakfast there.  We had vegetarian British breakfast:  poached eggs, baked beans, fried potatoes, toast, stewed tomatoes.  Ho hum.  Ralph and I went out walking and discovered the beach was directly across from where we had dinner night before.  We went down an alley beside a hotel and there was this magnificent vista.  All comparisons to PC and Daytona were suddenly abandoned.  Rounded cliffs descending into the ocean.  Large sandy (!) beach.  Surfers in the ocean.  Breathtaking.  The joke was on us.

We returned to the room where Ralph stayed to work.  I went out photographing. We'd been told there were famous gig races today.  And I was lucky enough to see the long boats emerge from the left going parallel with the beach.  These were moved by teams of oarsmen. Then I walked up the main strip and found nail polish remover and polish.  Back to the room for a pedicure.  Much needed.

Ran out for lunch at an American style 50's diner complete with appropriate music.  The young and older lady there were extremely friendly.  They guessed I was American.  Fun.  Tuna and mayonnaise sandwiches.

On to the bus and off to St. Ives.  Not too far.  Southern end of Cornwall on the top of the peninsula.  Steep streets.  Lots of shopping in small shops.  Asheville?  But on the coast.  A bay full of boats.  Ralph and I went looking for Virginia Stephens' (Woolf) childhood summer house.  A very slow Google Maps got us there by navigation.  A LOT of climbing and looking around.  Ralph went down and alley into a parking lot and found it.  Eureka.  Very exciting.  Interlopers.  People live there.  I snapped a couple of photos and hurried down a drive with a crossbar and keypad just as a man in a car turned in.  He gave us a severe look.  I was able to get photos of the lighthouse across the bay which was the inspiration for Virginia Woolf's "To the Lighthouse".  I'll have to read it now. We'd picked up wraps (brie and cranberry for me) earlier.  Picked up some wine now at a co op.  I insisted on taking a bus back the steep climb to the bus parking lot.

 

Next stop is Minack Theatre.  "From 1931 until she died in 1983 the Minack Theatre was planned, built and financed by one determined woman - Rowena Cade. This page attempts to tell her storyhttp://www.romanbaths.co.uk/ and that of the theatre she created.

http://www.minack.com/history.htm

Walking to the theatre from the bus car park, we got a glimpse of the bay next to which the theater is situated.  Gasps of surprise.  Awesome scenery.  Clear aquamarine water at the feet of steep cliffs falling into the ocean.  It was dusk.  See the photos.  The Cambridge student Gilbert and Sullivan Society was producing H. M. S. Pinafore.  Not a great performance but great fun.  David told us later that we missed out on a spectacular starry sky because of a cloud cover.  No matter.  Again, see the photos.  Festive.  We were allowed to eat and drink there.

Back to Newquay at midnight.  Early day tomorrow.

This morning I chose to eat just toast.  And we were packed up and off to Lanhydrock, a manor house.  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lanhydrock


.

 These photos repeat on and on.  I can't keep control of them and am too tired to do so at this time.

Now we are off to Bath.

  Bath was not what I expected.  I had seen it touted in tourist guides and expected Roman ruins abounding.  Not so.  Pretty town.  175,000 pop., we found out.  Pretty river there.  Again, touristy a la Asheville.  American standard hotel.  Can't remember the name.  Maybe Travel Lodge.  Again not with the students.  Pretty walk to town by the river.  Had dinner at The Abbey restaurant at the Abbey Hotel.  David, Ralph, and me.  Marie joined us later for drinks.

I had a rough night.  I felt I was coming down with the flu.  Cold shivers and aching.  This continued off and on through the day.

Next morning at 9:40 was the tour of the Roman Baths.  This site consists of a Roman temple, exhibit space, and excavated rooms.  There was a progression to taking a bath consisting of rooms that transition you from disrobing to the actual rubbing of the skin with an instrument.  I won't go into it here.  Let's see if there is a website.  Here:

http://www.romanbaths.co.uk/

I recommend reading about it if you have the time and want to.

The Romans believed, as did others who traveled here before them, that the hot spring was produced by a goddess.  There was a temple with a very large courtyard which had a large altar on which animals were sacrificed.  Pieces of the altar have been excavated and put on a construction of a block approximating the size of the altar.  As I recall, only the priests were allowed in the chapel-like building (I'm not looking this up to find the technical terms) and that is where the statue of Minerva stood.  Again, as I recall, there were many smaller altars around the courtyard where tributes could be made.

And people threw coins in the water of the reservoir as well as curses and prayers both of which were written scratched on pieces of tin and folded.  The dates of the coins stretch over hundreds of years.  Really interesting, I think.  The Romans used these baths for about 400 years and then left Britain.

Later, other buildings were built on top of this sight and again the hot springs were used as baths and for cures.

We roamed around Bath until the 3 p.m. departure time.  Not that much to do unless one wanted to shop.  We had lunch with Marie, the TA, at what is supposed to be the oldest house in Bath.  From what I could tell it is at least four stories tall and at least three floors are in use.  They specialize in a bun.  Our sandwiches turned out to be fillings on one half of a large bun.

Ralph and I roamed some more and had hot chocolate and coffee at Cafe Nero.  Soft leather chairs by the window to an alley way.  Lots of wood in the interior.

And, now, most anticipated by me of all!!.....Stonehenge.  Can't wait!  David, such a nice man, gave me something like Ibuprofen and a bottle of water.  How great is that?  Am I going to be very sick?

Hard to take in this place.  It's thronged with tourists and roped off so we can't go near.  They have sodded a road that went right by it to restore the continuity of the countryside around it. It's a good thing, isn't it, that people are so drawn to it?  It seemed to me there were more Americans here than other places I've been here.  Still I can't help wishing I'd been able to come here when you just pulled your car off the road and walked over and among the rocks as Ralph did in the '70's.  Kudos to the UK for working hard to present this well.  I never dreamed I'd see this.  I'm so happy to be here.