A weekend in Bradford on Avon

Last weekend was spent in the wonderfully picturesque village of Bradford on Avon. A very relaxing time spent with Eric and Claire, enjoying some of the local culture and food. I got to taste a roast partridge, but was sadly disappointed by the chef, who ruined what could have been a great meal. For those of you who don't know, a partridge is a small grey bird with pale flesh, similar to that of chicken. I don't know how many of you have your chicken rare, but I certainly don't.

Saturday afternoon was spent walking around Bath, re-visiting some of it's attractions, like the Crescent and the Circus. The highlight of our weekend was a cycle along the Kennet and Avon canal, between Bradford on Avon and Bath. An easy 2 hour ride, taking in the views of the Avon valley, painted recently with the colours of Autumn. A taxi driver told us later in the weekend that the Avon valley, around Limpley Stoke, is one of a kind. Apparently no other valley in the world has a river, a canal, a road, and a train line running parallel through it. Possibly not 100% accurate, but interesting in any event.

To end off the weekend we took in a barge trip along the canal. Despite the desperately poor weather conditions, it turned out to be a highly entertaining excursion. You had to be on your very best behaviour, otherwise you would face the wrath of one of the tour guides, all senior citizens (and serious about it). Eric placed both feet on the top step and was promptly reprimanded. The other passengers on board were a family celebrating a little chaps 10th birthday party. The combination of the family dynamics and the no-nonsense approach of the guides, resulted in an award winning drama.

The colours of Autumn

Filling the sky with crimson and gold
leaves scatter without a sound
carelessly dancing in the crisp autumn air
then gently cascade to the ground
covering the earth like a warm blanket
of brilliant colour and beauty
the changing of the seasons beckons
for all the world to see.

Author - unknown

The Clarendon Way

Jacks and I decided to venture forth on another walking weekend, but this time we had some company. We met Eugene and Heidi in Salisbury early on saturday morning, and after having a quick look around the cathedral we made our way out of town. The walk is 40km, give or take the odd detour, and we planned to complete about 60% on saturday. The first thing we came across was a partridge hunt, taking place on the outskirts of Salisbury. I use the term hunt very loosely, because the poor partridges had very little chance. The 'hunters' stand at the base of a small hill. People (the flag holders?) on top of the hill, guide the partridges (out of their pear trees?) out over the hunters below. The hunters, armed with shotguns, have very little difficulty in shooting the birds out of the sky. It is probably about as hard as throwing a tennis ball into a swimming pool from a distance of about 3 feet. Any wounded birds are neutralised by a posse of excitable hounds. In the time that we stood watching I estimate that about 30 birds were shot.

An hour later we found ourselves in a village called Pitton, and we sat ourselves outside at a pub called the silver plough. No partridge on the menu, but a great meal nevertheless. A couple of the rugged hunters arrived a while later, and they attacked the bar with an animal instinct, with one of them ordering a double ginger-ale and tonic water. Tough as nails I tell you.

We then walked and walked, and finally arrived in Kings Sombourne at 5. Our B&B was on a working farm, and Jackie and I had honour of sleeping in the shepherd's caravan. This was like one of those old gypsy caravans, and it was out in a field on the farm. Inside it had a double bed, and a old stove for heat. Without a doubt one of the best places we have had the good fortune of sleeping.

The next morning, after a great farm fresh breakfast, we walked out of the village, and in the general direction of Winchester. Most of the route was out in the country, with very little sign of civilisation. As we approached our goal we seemed to lose the track, but we still made it in the end (using the Wilsher way). Winchester is famous for it's cathedral, but it also has a great old college, and a lot of interesting churches. We had a quick look around one of these churches, called St Swithuns, before ending up at a famous pub called the Wykeham Arms. We rounded off the weekend with a quick drink, and then made our way back to our respective homes.