Afternoon out
The sky was crystal clear blue this morning - not exactly common for mid-February. We decided to go out for a little this afternoon. Not far, just up the road to the castle.
The first surprise, which shouldn't have been at all surprising in retrospect, was that half of Warwickshire appeared to have had the same idea, something the little carpark at the Brays (outer defence area) was just not up to. In summer a large area of grass is also available for cars, but at this time of year it's roped off, so grass can grow and cars are less likely to need towing out of the mud.
As I had my tame castle expert to hand we spent some time examining where Cromwell's minions had put the explosives to destroy the Great Mere by blowing up the dam, and this led, naturally enough, to consideration of the ways in which the Roundheads were Right but Repulsive (TM Sellar and Yeatman) and how the Cromwell family had in general been politically astute but rubbish at conservation. (Oliver Cromwell's men "slighted" a lot of castles, while his great-great uncle Tom was responsible for demolishing the Abbey, Kenilworth's other major gem of mediaeval architecture - or, at least, we assume so, as all that's left of it are a few ground-level "bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang" and a pretty parish church.)
Trees which were relatively young when we moved in twenty years ago are now rather magnificent.
The sun was getting lower all the time we were there, so the shadows were very long and the light was golden.
Dave went up the new steps they have installed inside the Robert Dudley building, while I just pottered, as I went up there last time I was at the castle. It was warm enough to unzip my coat and take my scarf off, and lovely just people-watching. There was a German (or Austrian, dunno - I recognised the language) photographing each other. She did a cartwheel. Small children clambered on low walls and stared intently at things on the ground, while a boy of around nine repeated "Oooh ooh ooh. I'm a monkey." rather too often.
We went round into the reconstructed Elizabethan Garden, which Dave claimed he hadn't seen and looked at goldfinches and a guinea hen in the aviary. I took various arty pictures.
The ground was covered in shining silver threads of spider silk. It was beautiful.
The first surprise, which shouldn't have been at all surprising in retrospect, was that half of Warwickshire appeared to have had the same idea, something the little carpark at the Brays (outer defence area) was just not up to. In summer a large area of grass is also available for cars, but at this time of year it's roped off, so grass can grow and cars are less likely to need towing out of the mud.
As I had my tame castle expert to hand we spent some time examining where Cromwell's minions had put the explosives to destroy the Great Mere by blowing up the dam, and this led, naturally enough, to consideration of the ways in which the Roundheads were Right but Repulsive (TM Sellar and Yeatman) and how the Cromwell family had in general been politically astute but rubbish at conservation. (Oliver Cromwell's men "slighted" a lot of castles, while his great-great uncle Tom was responsible for demolishing the Abbey, Kenilworth's other major gem of mediaeval architecture - or, at least, we assume so, as all that's left of it are a few ground-level "bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang" and a pretty parish church.)
Trees which were relatively young when we moved in twenty years ago are now rather magnificent.
The sun was getting lower all the time we were there, so the shadows were very long and the light was golden.
Dave went up the new steps they have installed inside the Robert Dudley building, while I just pottered, as I went up there last time I was at the castle. It was warm enough to unzip my coat and take my scarf off, and lovely just people-watching. There was a German (or Austrian, dunno - I recognised the language) photographing each other. She did a cartwheel. Small children clambered on low walls and stared intently at things on the ground, while a boy of around nine repeated "Oooh ooh ooh. I'm a monkey." rather too often.
We went round into the reconstructed Elizabethan Garden, which Dave claimed he hadn't seen and looked at goldfinches and a guinea hen in the aviary. I took various arty pictures.
The ground was covered in shining silver threads of spider silk. It was beautiful.