Legend has it that the stuffed parrot behind the bar at Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese was given to the pub by a pirate in about 1895. He lived there for 31 years, rather loquaciously it seems, greeting patrons with, “fuck the Kaiser” and other choice phrases, until his eventual demise (and transformation into current form) a hundred years ago.
But that was days ago. Since then, we’ve boated to Greenwich to see where East meets West and time begins, walked back under the Thames, thence onto a train home from ‘Mudchute’, packed up camp and relocated to Stamford, where, today, we’ve enjoyed an absolute blue-skied cracker.
Stamford was a random pick from Di to get us close to a bunch of places we wanted to go to however, it turns out that it’s a gorgeous little town, (the first steely-death-look assisting us in never using the term ‘village’ again), with plenty to see before venturing beyond it’s narrow cobbled streets and stone buildings (600+ heritage listings!). Wiki says, “Originating as a Roman settlement and later a key Saxon/Viking Danelaw borough, it prospered in the Middle Ages via the wool trade, becoming one of England’s wealthiest towns before thriving as a coaching center” (70 coaches per day, apparently – and Wiki is American so they spelt Centre wrong).
But it was chatting with local couple Richard and Jane over a coffee at Cafe au Chocolat in Ironmonger Street, feeling the pale winter sun warm our faces, while a sliver of man in a slightly grungy puffer jacket and black beanie and boots bashed out surprisingly good Johnny Cash numbers in the High St, that sold it for me. We’d planned a 12 km walk out of town to some hill, but all conversations led to Burghley House and “The George”, so we started with those…and got no further.
A 500-year-old ‘house’ on over 9000 acres of land, the 1500-acre parklands have 3,500 mature trees, 35,000 younger trees planted in 2015 and another 8,000 trees planted last year – and it still feels like sparse open, rolling green lawns. It’s featured in a swag of movies, including The Da Vinci Code, Pride and Prejudice (of course) and Bleak House. The house is closed this time of year, but walking the grounds in the winter sun was delightful. Unfortunately, the ‘Garden of Surprises’ behind the house was also closed, “surprise”!
An interesting character engaged us on the ‘Lion Bridge’ crossing the (25 acre!) lake with “you don’t need those anymore (indicating my camera), these (phones) can do everything, we’ll both take the picture (we were looking down the lake towards the house), and we’ll swap”. I declined, but he showed me his, and I think I could make out a small lump on a distant green knoll. “Not just photos! I make a living from this now,” he continued, as he bounced between various locations on the bridge snapping shots. “It’s all about composition, light and subject. I often find myself doing this nowadays” (simultaneously framing the distant house in diagonally opposed thumb-and-finger L shapes). Di and I were slowly backing away, “Nice”, I think we mumbled. Sensing perhaps that photography hadn’t created the warm connection anticipated, he proceeded to suggest his favourite local walks (there were many), closing out with a comment that the George, our next destination, didn’t do Tea like they did ten years ago. In the end, he was harmless, even helpful, but just a little bit nutty and we discussed, Di and I, what can create in us less generosity of spirit than we might otherwise offer a more ‘straightforward’ person? For me, I ventured, it’s not wanting to get ‘stuck’ or locked into another’s ‘program’ when there were things to do. However, on reflection, he never seemed dangerous, so why not open to the moment generously and retire respectfully when and as needs be? Not sure, but no doubt travel will throw up many more opportunities to test it out.
We departed the Burghley estate via the Bottle Gate and strolled to The George Inn for a fortifying glass of wine before a tidy-up back at our Airbnb and back out to the Toby Norris for beef cheek and mash and proper beer-battered fish and chips (and gluten-free beer). This post is being transmitted automatically whilst we rest contentedly in a sleep-induced carb-coma
Love your detailed description of English towns and pins. Question: is the beer cold???
Thnx. Actually, yes! The beer has been cold. Maybe not icecold like we might have it but cold nonetheless…and in the country there’s a reasonable range of GF beers too. Estrella and Old Speckled Hen to name a few!