Farewell Wales, hello Runnymede

We farewelled Mag and Tom this morning at exactly 10 am, and headed southeast through Wales, passing through Rhayader and Abergavenny.  We put petrol in the car at Crickhowell, and not long later crossed the Severn Bridge and had lunch in roadside services between Bristol and Swindon.  At about 3.30pm, we arrived at our first destination - Runnymede.

For most Australians, the year 2015 is important because it is the 100th anniversary of the Gallipoli campaign in the First World War.  But not a lot of people realise this year marks the 800th anniversary of something much more historically important.  On 15 June 1215, England's King John signed the Magna Carta here at Runnymede, an event universally acknowledged as the birth of modern democracy, as founding the principle of the rule of law, as constraining the absolute power of those who rule us, and as a check on tyranny.

I was delighted to come here, but slightly disappointed for a few reasons.  First, no one knows exactly the spot where King John was confronted by the 20-odd barons who persuaded him to sign the Great Charter.  Second, there is no pathway to the Magna Carta Memorial, located a few hundred yards away from the tea house where we parked, on the other side of an unbelievably muddy field.  Our shoes became as muddy as bloody hell.  The Queen came to the nearby Kennedy Memorial in 1965, and she planted a tree in 1987 - I'll bet she didn't have to walk across any mud.  It was so bad I thought they should change the name of Runnymede to 'Muddy Mede'.

My third slight disappointment came in the Magna Carta Memorial itself.  Situated on a small hill on the Thames' west bank, the Memorial is a little rotunda which tells the visitor almost nothing.  Information is provided on a small sign nearby.  The Magna Carta Memorial in Canberra, Australia, is considerably better.

Jean's and my ancestry are brought together at Runnymede.  King John is one of Jean's ancestors, traced through her Dad, and stretching back about 24 generations.  And we believe that a certain baron, Baron Robert de Ros, was an ancestor of mine, traced through my father's German ancestors, who also had English ancestors.  I like that one of my forefathers stood over one of Jean's forebears and made him do something he didn't want to do.  I'm lucky if I can get my wife to do anything she doesn't want to do!

Afterwards, we had scones, jam and cream in the tea house.  At exactly 5pm, we arrived at the Sheraton Skyline Hotel in Hayes, ahead of our flight to America tomorrow.

Announcing the Magna Carta, near the tea house.

In the distance is the tea house.  We had to walk across this very muddy field.

The Magna Carta Memorial

There's not much said here except annoying references to the American Bar Association!

The Memorial is on a gently sloping hill in an otherwise flat area on the west bank of the Thames.

On the other side of the distant trees is a narrow area of the Thames, to the west of London, not far from Heathrow Airport.

Signs near the Memorial

Last day in Aberystwyth

It is our last day in Aberystwyth.  Tomorrow, we will drive to near Heathrow Airport, and stay overnight in a hotel.  The day after, we'll fly to Miami, Florida.  The day after that, we'll board the ship, Celebrity Eclipse, and sail the Caribbean for the following fortnight.

We've spent good, quality time with family and friends over the last 10 days, visiting them in their homes, and patronising some of the cafes and restaurants around town, such as Coffee #1 and the Starling Cloud.  Jean and I also went to see the daily feeding of the red kites at Bwlch Nant yr Arion, driven nearly to extinction years ago, but whose numbers have been revived through dedicated efforts by authorities and interested persons (see more about this in my blog To Ephesus with Love, 2013).

It was not a red kite but rather a seagull which messed Tom's car up this afternoon.  It was a complete and utter mess, and it took the seagull only a few moments.

The site of the feeding of the red kites

Red kites circling for the daily feeding

The mess on Tom's car

Tom cleaning up the seagull's mess....

A magical mystery birthday tour

Today, Ann and Barry picked us up, and took us on a magical mystery tour.  I had no idea where we were going.  We headed south, and stopped in Cardigan for coffee and morning tea in an Italian coffee shop.  Thereafter, we headed into the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park. 

Our first stop was Pentre Ifan, which is the best known megalithic monument in Wales.  Pentre Ifan is the remains of a chambered tomb for the communal burial of the dead.  It was erected in the Neolithic Age perhaps as early as 3,500 BC.  The slope of its capstone (the horizontal stone on top) mirrors that of Carningli Mountain nearby.  The monument is reminiscent of the famous Stonehenge in Wiltshire.  In fact, archaeologists now know some of the bluestones used in building Stonehenge came from the Pembrokeshire Coast National Park.  How they got there 5,000 years ago remains a mystery, a mystery ensuring eternal respect for the people of the Neolithic.

We then moved on to Castell Henllys, which is the reconstruction of an Iron Age village on the top of a hill.  Excavations were conducted here between 1980 and 2008.  People lived on this site around 2,700 years ago in little round houses with thatched rooves.  Modern archaeologists determined exactly where the foundations of the Iron Age houses were located, and 'new' round houses have been constructed on the same foundations, allowing 21st century visitors the same view of the village as those who lived here millennia ago.  The houses have been constructed using the same locally sourced materials as in the Iron Age, save for modern rope and other subtle additions to ensure health and safety for visitors.

There are five round houses at Castell Henllys, as well as pens for keeping animals.  The houses inside were essentially one large room, although one had little bedrooms to one side.  All were warmed by a central fireplace with seating on either side.  The smoke filtered through the thatched rooves, discouraging vermin and bugs from living there.  People were occupied catching and gathering food which included constructing tools for this purpose, such as the fish trap.  It being the Iron Age, many iron tools were made and used in Castell Henllys.  People lived in this village for about 500 years.

We had lunch in the Pentre Arms in Llangrannog.  This town sits by a stony beach dwarfed by high hillsides.  The one at left boasts a statue of Saint Carannog who looks down upon a rough-looking surf as it batters the rocky hillside foundations.  The Saint founded a church in Llangrannog between 480 and 540 AD.  

On we drove, stopping briefly at the beach in Cwmtydu, before arriving in Newquay.  Deciding not to stop, we headed on to Aberaeron, where we enjoyed afternoon tea.  We arrived home after 5.

As the sign says...

We walked down a short path to Pentre Ifan.

Pentre Ifan is the best known megalithic monument in Wales.

This monument may have stood here for as long as 5,500 years.

The slope of the capstone mirrors that of Carningli Mountain nearby.  The monument is about five metres long.

Castell Henllys

Pens were used for holding animals.

Villagers were community minded, and sat together inside and outside the houses.

Materials for building pens, including hazelwood. 

The highest point of the village

Jean, Ann and Barry discuss how life would have worked here two and a half millennia ago.

A fireplace inside a round house

An instrument for making clothes

The roof of a house

An Iron Age plough

The beach at Llangrannog

Saint Carannog guards the beach and the town of Llangrannog.

Lunch at the Marine

Yesterday, we went to the Marine for lunch.   I wrote about the Marine two weeks ago in 'Birthday Celebrations'.  As I said then, the Marine is an excellent hotel on the Prom overlooking the sea.  Lunch on a Sunday at the Marine is a roast.  You can have lamb, turkey, pork or beef or all four if you want!  You can also have several roast potatoes because you help yourself.  Waitresses bring extra vegas to the table - new potatoes, carrots, and peas - and before all that, you can begin with a starter, if you so desire.  The dessert table is crowded out with various kinds of chocolate cake, rice pudding, tiramisu, cheesecake, profiteroles, and other sweet, creamy delights, all accompanied by large helpings of ice cream.  You can have all of this - and come away feeling like you couldn't possibly eat another thing until breakfast the next morning - for about £20 per person.

The Marine visit was to mark my birthday today, and we were treated by Mag and Tom.  Present were Mag and Tom as well as Aunty Eleanor and Annwen.

Annwen and Jean

Me, Mag and Aunty Eleanor

Tom and Annwen

A visit to Kidderminster

Yesterday, we took a drive to the town of Kidderminster in Worcestershire.  I wanted to visit the town because it's not very far from Wales, but specifically because my great-grandmother, Clorinda May Pountney, was born and spent her first four years here before emigrating with her family to Australia around 1880.

After a two and a half hour drive, we arrived.  My first impressions of the place were that it was a town that combined both the modern and the old.  The old was manifest in churches dotted here and there, and a few old warehouses.  These sat among modern buildings, supermarkets, shops, and 21st century creations such as Debenhams and Wetherspoons.  Jean noticed the town was very working class.  Outside the town hall is a statue to Sir Rowland Hill, a famous Kidderminster man.  Sir Rowland was the first person in the world to come up with the idea of putting a stamp on a letter.  Thus, the world's first, the Penny Black, came into being in 1840.

I knew from the Internet that there are many Pountneys still living in and around Kidderminster.  As I walked the streets, I wondered how many of the people I was walking past might be fifth-, sixth-, or perhaps 10th cousins of mine.  There may be many.

Something occurred to me while I was in Kidderminster.  We all know how doctors are often believed to over-diagnose ilnesses and over-prescribe certain medications.  We assume that doctors like to find the easiest solution for the doctors, rather than work a bit harder to identify problems for patients.  I wondered, what if doctors have always done that?  Back in the days when Great Britain had a vast empire, including areas of the globe with hot climates such as Australia and South Africa, might a doctor, visited by a patient with constant bronchial problems or the like, recommend, habitually, that they emigrate to warmer climes?  I know that another ancestor of mine, Harry Chaplin Standen of London's East End, was told he should emigrate for his health.  And I remember my Kidderminster ancestor, Clorinda May, was bronchial all her life.  Perhaps her family needed to get away from the cold.  Certainly, I personally felt very cold strolling through the modern malls of Kidderminster.

After a couple of hours in Kidderminster, we took the short drive to Worcester.  We didn't stop - just had a look.  We then returned to Aberystwyth in time to see the film, American Sniper.

A church in Kidderminster

Kidderminster

The boy from Kidderminster: Sir Rowland Hill - the creator of the Penny Black

Kidderminster

The town hall in Kidderminster

Kidderminster

Stalls in Kidderminster

Kidderminster

Debenhams in Kidderminster

A canal runs through Kidderminster.

This is Worcester.

A viaduct bridge in Worcester.

Worcester

Worcester

Worcester