Journey to my roots: an emotional day in Sledmere, visit to 6 Heaton Grove and Bradford Grammar School. Return to Nottingham University. The Cotswolds, Clifton College, Henbury, joined by Andy and Amanda, Uphill and Weston-super-mare, Castle Combe, and Bath.

The Cotswolds, Sunday 23rd June, 2019

In Castle Combe near where we are staying - the prettiest town in England and it certainly is

Sending a postcard to my father from Weston-super-mare where he used to spend his holidays at his grandmother's house. I am trying to send him a post card from every relevant place in this trip to his roots so he can follow it.

Good morning friends and readers. It's amazing how fast our journey to my roots in England is going  since we began it in Yorkshire on 14th June. It has been a revealing and emotional trip so far and well worth it. It has also been very tiring first week as our programme is packed. We relaxed though at the end of this first stage and did other things too. We are now ready for the next stage of our journey to the Island of Anglesey where my grandfather, Revd. John Collins Lloyd, was from. 

Last Sunday saw us in Sledmere, a jewel of a village in the Yorkshire Wolds in the former East Riding. That was the first destination in search of my father's roots after writing his biography for his 100th birthday. His father, Revd. John Collins was appointed the vicar of St. Mary's Church Sledmere in 1924 and the family lived there at The Vicarage until 1928. So my father lived in Sledmere from the age of 5 until he was 9. His sister Gloria was born there in 1926 and I have always known how much the village means to my father. The village is practically owned by the Sykes family who own the imposing Sledmere House and nearly everything there. The church which replaced a 12th century building   was built by Sir Tatton Sykes II (8th Baronet) in 1893 for the astronomical sum of 60.000 pounds and is one of the best examples of a Victorian Gothic church to be found in England. I was very keen to see the church where my grandfather had been the vicar 90 years ago and where, no doubt, my father's sister Gloria would have been christened as she was born in Sledmere.

St. Mary's Church in Sledmere

We set off quite early at around 9.15 as we wanted to have a full day in Sledmere to see the church and the vicarage as well as the famous farm bakery there. I had also arranged to meet one of my father's pupils from Bradford Grammar School, J. Starkey who reached out to his old teacher many years ago and with whom I am very much in touch. He lives very near Sledmere which is quite a coincidence.

It's about a two hour drive and we went the scenic route. We were lucky with the weather as, although it did rain that day, it didn't while we were in Sledmere. The village is rather linear and the first thing we found was the vicarage but we couldn't find the church anywhere. We had to ask and were pointed in its direction and were surprised to find it wasn't actually on a street but up a long path off the road and behind Sledmere House.  Unfortunately there was no service that day but luckily it was open and we could go in. It was quite a big emotional step to walk in. I knew there was a list of the vicars on one of the walls and that was the first thing I looked for. Here is the list of the vicars including my dear Grandfather John Collins Lloyd.

My grandfather's name on the list of St. Mary's Church vicars in Sledmere

I felt very much in awe inside the church imagining my grandfather preaching there and my father and his mother and brother Raymond probably sitting on the front row on a Sunday. 

Inside my grandfather's church in Sledmere

I spied the pulpit where we would have preached from and had to go up and stand in it. I imagined him there and wondered whether he would have ever dreamed that one day his granddaughter would also be standing there and remembering him over 90 years later. It was an emotional thought and I shed a tear or two. It didn't feel at all irreverent to be up there; quite the opposite in fact as I stood there it was with great respect for him and my father's roots.

Standing in my grandfather's pulpit at St. Mary's Church in Sledmere

From the church we made our way to the Farm Shop at Sledmere House where I was to meet Jon. We went in and saw lots of local produce - I would later buy some jam for my father. Unfortunately we didn't have the time to go into the grounds or see the house which looked very attractive. The family still lives there and apparently still use all the rooms for family gatherings. The Sykes family seem to own the whole village and the 300 or so inhabitants are mostly employed by Sledmere House. Jon soon arrived and it was lovely to see my father's old pupil face to face after so much correspondence since he reached out to his old teacher over 10 years ago. Jon was taught Russian A level by my father and he left B.G.S. in 1983 the same year my father retired. He studied at Cambridge and went on to use Russian throughout his career which has been in the insurance industry and he still travels all over Russia and many of the ex Soviet republics His wife is half Russian and half from Kazakhstan and they met in Almaty, later living in Moscow and even in Budapest. He is a well traveled man and it was lovely to talk about each other's lives. Of course I gave him my father's book in person and I do hope he enjoys it. 

With Jon Starkey in Sledmere last Sunday 

It was Jon who recommended having lunch at the only pub in the village, The Triton Inn which is a beautiful 18th century pub that serves excellent food as most pubs do in England today.

The Triton Inn Sledmere where we had lunch last Sunday

Being a Sunday we were able to enjoy a Sunday roast and we all went for the roast beef with Yorkshire pudding. What a meal, what a treat, I have to say and the portions were so big I wouldn't want dinner that night. The desserts were great too and neither Eladio nor I could resist ordering the Eton Mess for "pudding". Phil went for the treacle sponge with custard and I wouldn't have minded that either. Oh I love English puddings.

Our day in Sledmere didn't end there. We were also to go and visit the vicarage, now The Old Rectory and in private hands as the Church of England put it on the market 20 years ago. The 7 bedroom Grade II listed building built in about 1884 went for about 650.000 pounds which I think is very cheap for the amazing house and grounds that comprise the old vicarage. It was here my father lived with his family and I was keen to see it. I had written to the current owner, Simon W. after encouragement from my friend Joanne and amazingly he had replied saying he would be very happy to show us the house. What a privilege and how kind of him and his wife. From the outside the house doesn't look that imposing or as big as it really is inside. This is it from the road although the front entrance is on another side of the square shaped house.

The Old Vicarage (now The Old Rectory) in Sledmere where my father lived as a child

I felt a bit like an intruder but we were made very welcome by Simon and his wife Nicky who seemed lovely people. And what a house they have. It's absolutely massive and I was cheered to see they had absolutely respected the original style of the building. As I walked through the hall and saw the lounge and dining room I could imagine my father, his siblings and parents living there. No wonder my father loved the house; so did I. It really is luxurious and there are even servants' quarters in the attic where my grandparents' no doubt housed their servants. The main entrance was possibly through an old porch which is not used today. I had to take a photo to show my father to see if he would remember it.

The main entrance to the old Vicarage

The grounds were beautiful too and surrounded by fields and I could imagine my father and his brother probably playing cricket together there. My father had told me he didn't go to school in Sledmere but had a home tutor. Simon and Nicky told us that they had heard that Sunday School was held at the house, so maybe more children were taught there at some time. 

When we left, I was able to understand why my father always spoke so fondly of his life in beautiful Sledmere. I was so glad to have gone back for him. He himself returned there many years ago with my mother when they were retired but I doubt they visited the vicarage. My father would never have asked to see it, although I know he would have loved to go inside.

We didn't want to overstay our welcome and when we had seen the grounds, thanked the owners profusely as they had been very kind to let us in and at around 5 "ish" put an end to our day in Sledmere, the second stepping stone, after Bradford Grammar School, on our trip to my father's roots. Feeling very happy with the day, we got in the car and dear Phil drove us home to Keighley. It was just as we got in the car that it began to pour with rain.

We were all very tired when we got back. I could have done with a siesta but it was a bit late and I knew if I did sleep then I wouldn't sleep at night. Kathy's son, Will, was back from the family's Fathers' day lunch. Fathers' day seems to have got very big in England but I was never brought up to celebrate it much. We spent some time chatting in our friends' cosy lounge and I even had a glass of red wine which I actually nursed and didn't finish until bedtime. We spoke to Suzy who was "baching it" with Oli at home and at the same time taking care of our Airbnb guests.

I wasn't at all hungry and couldn't face anything to eat but at around 11h, my friends and husband were so Phil, who always takes care of everybody's needs, rustled something up for the three of them. So once again it was late to bed and I got under the sheets feeling absolutely shattered but luckily soon fell asleep.

On Monday morning, again I was up at 5 am which still felt like 6 am Spanish time. Monday was to be our last day in Yorkshire and what a day of memories it would turn out to be. Eladio and I had an appointment at my father's old school, Bradford Grammar School (BGS) where he was a teacher of Modern Languages from 1964-1983 which I was much looking forward to. The appointment was at 10.30 so we decided to go early and to go and see our old house in Heaton Grove which is very near the school. We took the train rather than the bus which I would have done when I lived in Bradford. I don't think there was one in those days from Keighley to Frizinghall near our old home. I got a thrill as I got off as of course this was familiar area. We went past our old "watering hole", The Black Swan which we always called "The Mucky Duck" and is the nearest pub from the school and also from our old house. Many a Friday night was spent there drinking Baby Sham or vodka and orange when I was an underage teenager with my crowd of friends who were mostly made up of boys from BGS and girls from my school, St. Joseph's College (SJC) next door. I had to take a photo for old time's sake. Here it is.

Our old "watering hole" in Bradford

As we walked up the road past familiar streets and  out onto Manningham Lane the road which our house looked onto from the back, it felt so strange. Then, there in front of us was the first entrance to Heaton Grove where we moved as a family in 1964. I left of course much earlier but my father lived there until 2005. It is the house I am most attached to and always will be.

Our old street in Bradford

I had to take a photo of the house but was sad to see the old Victorian summer house in ruins and the replacement of the beautiful sash windows. The house was first built by German wool traders in the Industrial Revolution and would have been built around 1840 or so. We kept all of the original fixtures but not doubt Mr Nawaz who bought it will have replaced them all. I only wish we had taken the enormous claw foot bath tub not to mention the original and most beautiful Victorian basins in the bedrooms. Oh why didn't I?

Our old house - 6 Heaton Grove

It is a 4 story, 20 room house and massive but only had two toilets, an unusable one in the cellar, one upstairs and just one family bathroom. Next door at number 5 we had the loveliest of neighbours, the Wrights with whom we got on extremely well. The father, Mr. Wright passed away in the 70s but his wife, Mrs. Wright (Marguerite) and her daughter Susan lived together for many years until about 10 years ago Mrs. Wright died aged 103!!!!  They had been living at their house since 1943 when we moved in in 1964. Imagine! I had tried to get in touch with Susan to arrange to see her on our trib but the number I had for her and which my father reeled out to me after all those years with his amazing memory, seemed to be the wrong one.  Thus I couldn't get in touch with her to arrange to meet and frankly thought she might no longer be living there. We decided to knock on her door and amazingly she was there and opened it. We hadn't seen her for probably 10 years. After the initial shock - the poor woman who is 85 had probably just got out of bed - she was stunned and delighted and so were we as she is very much a part of our past. We were ushered in to her beautiful lounge and she immediately put the fire on. Her house is like something out of a museum of antiques and has the most exquisite taste. I remember always thinking how beautiful it was inside compared to ours. It must be said that Susan and her Mother had an antique business and the house looks just as beautiful as it always did. Going into it is like visiting a stately home. We had just an hour to be with her before leaving for BGS and it went past far too quickly.

With our old neighbour, Susan Wright, who I have known since 1964 and is still living next door to our old house

With Susan holding my father's book

Eladio with Susan by the hearth in her drawing room

We would have loved to spend more time with her and she was frustrated we didn't even want a cup of tea but we promised to come back next year and now we have her new phone number and she has ours we will be able to arrange to do so rather than visit her on the spur of the moment.  I was proud to give her my book where she is mentioned in the chapter about my father leaving England for Spain. She lovingly remembered how they did The Times crossword together after my mother passed away and was delighted to hear my father was in good health and had reached the 100 year milestone on 1st May.  We could have chatted all morning catching up on our lives but the hour passed very quickly and we had to go. It was so lovely to see her and I shall now keep in touch more often.

From Heaton Grove we walked along Manningham Lane past The Turf, another of our "watering holes" and of course the entrance Lister Park with its statue of Sir Titus Salt, where my father used to walk to school every day, and soon the school came into view and what a lovely building it is.

The Turf and entrance to Lister Park - so familiar to me

Bradford Grammar School

My father retired from the school in 1983 and I hadn't been inside for many many years but it was very familiar to me. I had been there a lot in my youth to the school summer fairs, to the headmaster, Kenneth Robinson's home at Clock House (now the Junior school) where we used to pick raspberries and sometimes for joint activities with my school. I remember being in the Don Quixote play as Dulcinea's mother!!!! Eladio had seen it once when my father showed him round the school in about 1981. I also remember going there with "old boys", accompanying them to find out their A level results which were posted on the back wall. They all passed with flying colours and nearly all of them went on to study at Oxford or Cambridge as did all my father's Russian pupils without fail. BGS was very much an "Oxbridge machine".  It was, of course, a boys' only school but that changed shortly after my father left. I was sad to see the uniform had changed from brown to blue - not the same:-( We walked through the front door and there at reception was the security entrance which was quite sophisticated - not like the past. Soon Rebecca, the Alumni Manager was there to receive us and she took us on a tour of the school. It was exam period so we could only get a fleeting glance of the imposing Price Hall. To the left of the hall, is the staff common room - forbidden grounds in my day  - and the gallery of old teachers as well as a list of all the head boys. I recognised three names from the latter: Bill Oliver, David Whitlam and Robert Hamilton. I once went out with Bill haha and David Whitlam was probably my father's overall star pupil. It was lovely to see their names on a board. I was equally interested in the "mug shots" of past teachers and recognised many of the names such as Mr. Twelves, Rodrick Thomson, Harry Davies, Mr. Shaw Smith and quite a few more. I noticed none of the teachers were wearing their graduate gowns as was the norm when my father taught there - his was always covered in chalk - and I was told they only do so on formal occasions.

The past teachers' gallery outside the Common Room - my father is in the middle of the top row. 

Rebecca showed us around and I was particularly interested in seeing my father's old form room - Room 26 on the second floor next to the refectory, according to Daniel, one of his old pupils. Today it looks nothing like it did when my father was the form master. He would fill it with objects of his passion for languages, maps, "foreign" magazines, etc. There have been many additions to the school since he left but I was far more interested in seeing the old parts of the school rather than the new ones.

Soon it was time to be received by Lindsey, the Development Manger, who had first got in touch with me about the school taking part in the celebrations for his 100th and who without knowing it was instrumental in my ending up writing my father's book. It was great to see her face to face after so much correspondence. Lindsey and Rebecca took us to the current headmaster's office or study, Dr. Hinchcliffe, a Yorkshireman by the way and a keen climber, with whom we would have coffee. They made us feel so welcome. It was like walking back into my past and feeling so at home. It might have been my father's school but of course it was also part of my youth. It was like going back into time and I was thrilled to be there. I was also thrilled to be able to give them a book each and sign them. The headmaster promised me he would later donate his to the school library. He suggested we took photos of the occasion to remember the visit but also to put on social media. So out we went to the entrance of the school and Rebecca and Eladio snapped away. This is one of the photos.

Photo session at BGS with the headmaster and Development Manager and my handing them my father's book

Later Dr. Hinchcliffe wrote on Twitter: "Wonderful to meet Masha Lloyd and husband Eladio today at BGS to talk about her father and former teacher Courtenay Lloyd who celebrated his 100th birthday this year and sincere thanks for the generous gift of his biography". Lindsey wrote too and on LinkedIn said: "A huge part of what makes working in Development so enjoyable is hearing about the inspirational lives of those who have helped to shape historic institutions. Courtenay Lloyd, a WWII veteran who served in the R.N. and was involved in the liberation of Norway, was  a modern languages teacher at BGS for almost 20 years. We were delighted to celebrate his 100th birthday earlier this year and today it was a great honour to welcome his daughter Masha and son-in-lw Eladio back to BGS". Wasn't that nice? It was indeed an honour and a pleasure to be received so warmly and to visit my father's old school where he taught for nearly 20 years on Monday.

As we left, Rebecca amazingly handed me the school magazine for the summer of 1983 where the retirement of my father is included. Written by his boss, the head of Modern Languages, Harry Davis, I only wish I had seen it on time to include in my father's biography. It is so touching and beautifully written.  No doubt my father would have seen it at the time but never shared it with us. He was also so modest. I shall show it to him when I go back and hope it will please him. Let me reproduce it here:

The school magazine of the summer of 1983 which includes an article on my father's retirement

The article (1)

The article (2)

The article (3)

It was and is a beautiful keepsake. I shall somehow try to incorporate it in the chapter about my father's retirement in the e-book edition of his biography.

Our visit to his school came to an end and we had to say goodbye and move on. We were very grateful for the lovely welcome which meant the world to me. Thank you Lindsey, thank you Rebecca and thank you Simon. We loved meeting you and seeing my father's old school once again after so many years.

Feeling nostalgic but happy we walked across the beautiful grounds of the school to the new car park and towards the "Mucky Duck" from where it was a short stroll to the train station. We were soon back in Keighley and before returning to Kath and Phil's went into Sainsbury's to get some provisions to take on our trip to The Cotswolds. I later ordered a taxi to take us home where our dear friends were waiting for us for the next item on the agenda. But before I could even take my shoes off, I had to deal with an Airbnb issue on the home front. A French couple had arrived but had only booked for one person not two. It took a while for Airbnb to resolve the issue but they finally did. Suzy seems to be doing a good job as the caretaker hostess as there have been two very good reviews during her stay. If she wasn't there to take care of our guests no way would we have been able to be away for such a long time so a big thanks to Suzy my oldest daughter. 

The next and last item on our wonderful agenda in Yorkshire was a treat to afternoon tea from Kathy and Phil at the wonderful Coniston Hotel near Skipton.  Its full name is The Coniston Hotel, Country Estate and Spa which is very fancy and quite a place, especially  the grounds which are stunning. It was their treat for our 35th wedding anniversary last year and what a treat it was. Here we are sitting in the café overlooking the lake on the 1400 acre  estate of "beautiful rolling Yorkshire Dales countryside" and what an estate it was as we would later see when we walked in the  magnificent grounds. Here we are sitting down and looking forward to the treat.

With Eladio about to enjoy our treat at the Coniston Hotel

Our dear friends Kathy and Phil

The  lake at the Coniston Hotel - the owner Mr. Bannister's house which is much more beautiful than the hotel itself.

Neither Kathy nor I could resist the traditional afternoon tea but the men went for the dish of the day  - sea bream, although we would give them some of the cakes we didn't like hahaha. As you can see in the photo below the afternoon tea was just magnificent, not to mention mouthwatering and delicious. 

The delicious afternoon tea at the Coniston Hotel on Monday 

After all that food we were all in need of a good walk and we got the best walk we could as the estate is absolutely stunning. Eladio and I couldn't stop taking photos. We were lucky with the weather again as although it did rain on Monday, it was dry on our walk.  I particularly liked going through the various gates from field to field and past the boat house and summer house and all the ducks and their chicks, the geese and their goslings as well as the swans. 

By the lake with some of the many geese and their goslings on the Coniston Estate

I was not so keen on their "droppings" which were quite disgusting though hahaha. As we walked through one of the gates which was a bit tight, Phil explained it was called a "kissing gate". When I heard that I just had to have a photo kissing Eladio and this is it. It's very romantic isn't it? Love was much in the air I can tell you.

Kissing at the kissing gate 

We loved every minute of the walk and I was happy to see that at the end of the day we had walked over 11 kilometres, a bit less than the the 12 kilometres on Saturday. We needed all these walks to burn  the calories from so many delicious meals.

We were home again by about 6 pm and had time to relax, unwind, sleep a bit in the case of Eladio and also in my case to work a bit. I had to reply to some mails from my publisher who is in the throes of creating an e-book out of my father's biography.  Eladio worked too after his siesta and he worked on the route to The Cotswolds from Keighley for the next day. My geography of England is pretty useless and the roads we would be taking would be new ones for us. We just hoped and prayed we would get to The Cotswolds safe and sound in our hired car. 

We had dinner late and it was obviously a small affair, a prawn salad with avocado pears. I was very much aware all evening that it was our last evening in Yorkshire and I was sorry our time there was coming to an end. We had had such a good time. Of course, though, we shall be back because you can take the girl out of Yorkshire but you can never take Yorkshire out of the girl. 

Tuesday dawned and I got up at 4.45 again! On Tuesday we would begin the next stage of our journey to my roots and make our way to The Cotswolds. In The Cotswolds, apart from enjoying the stunning scenery and villages we would visit Clifton College Bristol where my father went to school, Henbury where his father was the vicar of St. Mary's Church for many years, as well as Uphill near Weston-super-mare where his brother Raymond and father are buried. We would also be joined for part of our stay by my dearest school friend Amanda and her husband Andy, my friend too and also my father's ex pupil. I was very much looking forward to showing Eladio this beautiful area which I had visited with the girls a couple of years ago. When I looked at the  map to plan our journey, I realised that Nottingham was the half way mark. That's where I went to University and graduated in 1980. I hadn't been back since 1981 and I had the sudden urge to include a visit there on the trip to my roots. I had got in touch with the head of the Spanish and Portuguese department, Professor Stephen Roberts, who very kindly agreed for me to visit the department even though Tuesday was perhaps his busiest day of the year what with all the exams. So I was to add a trip to my student days too and it would prove to be a very happy and emotional visit.

We packed and our dear friends Kathy and Phil who will be visiting us in Montrondo in October and the next day would be going on holiday themselves to Spain, drove us to the car hire rental place in Keighley. There we picked up our rental car, an automatic Renault, a brand new red vehicle which would serve its purpose well. This is it. 

Our little rental car

It took a while to do the paperwork and pay all the overcharges which are never advertised and it ended up costing double to cover for more insurance as usually happens when you rent a car. We said goodbye to our dear friends and hosts and off we went. Eladio doesn't like driving on the left - neither do I - and I would be his co-pilot all the way. We set up my phone to use Google maps and with a physical map in hand too which Phil had kindly given us, we were all ready to go at just after 10. Getting out of Keighley, driving to Bradford and finding first the M606 then the M62 and finally the M1 is quite a challenge even for an experienced driver but we managed it. We stopped on the way at one of the usual and rather soulless Services facilites where I naughtily had a bakewell tart with my coffee and then drove straight on to Nottingham.  Finding the University was another challenge and we seemed to drive round and round in circles. We eventually made it though and triumphantly drove up the road towards the University's most famous building, The Trent Building where I had my lectures as well as The Portland building where all the main non academic facilities are. My heart was beating with emotion to be back at  the beautiful University where I had studied so many years ago and where I had been so happy. 

A view of the Trent Building and the lake on the Nottingham University Campus

Eladio was to see what life on a campus is like for a student. There are no such campuses in Spain and this one is very special. All facilities and residencies are in the huge and beautiful campus which is outside the city and is like a town in itself but just for students and lecturers. It's like being in a bubble where you hardly need to leave it and can enjoy student life in every way. The campus is called University Park and indeed it is like an enormous park with rolling green lawns and trees everywhere and all immaculately kept. Here I am full of joy in front of the iconic Trent Building.

Happy to be back at my old University 39 years after graduating there in 1980. 

It was amazing to be back. I wanted to see everything but our visit was to be short as we had another long drive afterwards. Our first port of call just had to be the heart of my life at the University - the Spanish department. Its full name is now Spanish, Portuguese and Latin American Studies. I was told later that next year will be the 40th anniversary of teaching Portuguese in the department. I remember it being offered in the final year for the first time in the department's history, so I was one of their first students to learn the language.   The department is in the same place as when I was there so it was pretty easy to find the North Entrance inside the quadrangle of The Trent Building. 

Outside the North Entrance of the Trent Building which houses the Spanish department.

We soon found it and it was like going back in time. When I graduated in 1980 we were just 6 students in the final year and we had very few lecturers; Professor Tate, the head of the department, Doctor Cardwell, Chris Pountain and  Christine Whitbourn as well as the then very young Bernard McGuirk who taught me Portuguese. Bernard went on to become the head of the department and is still associated with the department but unfortunately was away on Tuesday.  There were also 2 assistant teachers, Luisa (can't remember her surname) and a lovely young woman called Susi Serrasols. The student teacher ratio was unheard of: 7 teachers for 6 students.  Today just in the final year there are about 140 and more than 400 in total. Professor Roberts told Eladio that his department will probably soon outnumber the amount of students in the French department which was by far the biggest in my time. It's great to see how the department has grown and also how Portuguese has thrived since I left.   I remembered everything, especially the first room which used to be a sort of small kitchen where we would gather before lectures. It was here where we waited for our finals results with trepidation. I shall never forget, the assistant teacher, Susi Serrasols, whispering to me that I had got a 2.1 degree with distinction in spoken Portuguese. I have always been proud of the latter although I never understood why I didn't get a distinction in spoken Spanish as I was probably the best speaker of the language in our group and spoke it much better than Portuguese which I had only studied for a year.  I met two or three of the Portuguese lecturers and staff and one of them, Sara Andrei Da Costa from Lisbon, told me there wold be celebrations next year to which they would invite me. I brought out the Portuguese which I still remember to speak to them and my I was still able to express myself in the language. I remember being very proud to know at least one language my polyglot parents did not know. The head of department was in and he received us warmly. He introduced us to other lecturers who remembered all the staff from my days. I was sad to hear that Professor Tate had passed away as had Susi Serrasols as well as the other lady but happy to hear that Doctor Cardwell, aged 81, is still going strong. I had heard he had passed away so was delighted that I was wrong.  But I was gutted to hear of the passing away of Susi. She was not much older than us (the students) when she first came to join the department and she became a friend. I have tried to contact her over the years with no success and was gutted to hear of her passing away to cancer. Life is so unfair. On a lighter note it was funny to have my Spanish husband with me, who was soon reciting poetry from some of the most famous Spanish poets. It was quite impressive. It was also interesting to see my husband and the Professor who is an expert on the Spanish writer and philosopher, Miguel de Unamuno and Lorca the writer and poet, discuss them. There was even time for a photo which Eladio kindly took of us.

With some of the staff from the Hispanics department at Nottingham University

 After a lovely short chat, we left the department to see more of the University. I wanted to see my old hall of residence where I lived in my first year, Nightingale Hall and which like all the other halls of residence is on the campus. I also wanted to show Eladio just how beautiful the latter is. I think he was very impressed as there is nothing like it in Spain.

I didn't really have to ask the way, I just knew exactly which path to take. As a student, like many others, I had a bike and rode to my lectures. It was a sunny day and the walk was marvelous. We passed the Florence Boot hall where I used to play tennis, some new buildings I didn't know and many other halls of residence I did know such as Ancaster where I think my friend Sandra lived. Adele was in my hall. Florence Nightingale Hall was at the time women only and quite strictly run. We ate all our meals in the refectory there, had a library, a bar, a TV room, small kitchens on each floor and quite large bedrooms which were well furnished. Most of them were for single use. I loved mine. Boys were not allowed in after 11pm but we always broke the rule haha. Unfortunately on Tuesday we could not go inside and had to suffice from seeing "Nightingale" as we called it from the outside. Here I am at my old hall where I first met my dear friend Adele who studied French and Spanish "subsid" as did Sandra.

Outside Nightingale Hall, my hall of residence in my first year at Nottingham in 1976

We then walked back across the lush lawns and pretty paths to where our car was parked outside the Portland Building. There was no time to go inside and take a look at the library, the refectory or the book shop where I bought all my books. I shall have to leave that for another time and there will be another time if I attend the 40th anniversary of the teaching of Portuguese or if, as suggested by Adele and Sandra, we organise a reunion of the Class of 1980. That would be great.

The Portland building at Nottingham University

We must have left at about 3 pm and were soon on the road. Thankfully it was easier getting out of Nottingham and back onto the motorway than the other way round. About half an hour later we stopped at another Services place and there Eladio had his lunch from an Asian food kitchen. I was hungry too and went for a Green Thai curry with noodles which although quite spicy was absolutely delicious. 

The drive from Nottingham to our destination in The Cotswolds was long and thwarted with traffic which was not helped by the rain. But we finally made it to The Dartbury Lodge in the South Cotswolds on the road between Bristol and Chippenham. Located near Yatton Keynell it is about 3 miles or so from one of the prettiest villages in the Cotswolds, Castle Combe which of course we would visit later during our stay. 

We liked our cottage as soon as we saw it. It's rather tiny but fine for 2 people and is on the grounds of the owners whose house is very big. Our cottage is little bit too near the owners' house which I don't really like but otherwise it is fine and there is plenty of room to park.

Arriving at our cottage on Tuesday evening. 

Kate, the owner was very welcoming and showed us the cottage which we liked and Eladio immediately took photos to show the girls. It has one lounge with a kitchen, a bathroom and one small double bedroom but it is very well equipped. 

After we had unpacked, I made our meal from the provisions I had bought at Sainsbury's in Keighley. We were soon sitting down and having our dinner while watching the Spanish news on my iPad. It's a bit unfortunate there was no aerial on the TV which is provided just for using DVDs. Here is Eladio about to taste the salad which we had with some crab meat and cold cuts and a drink of cider from the bottle Phil kindly gave us when we left Keighley.

Eladio having dinner in our cottage in The Cotswolds on the night of our arrival. 

We watched a bit of Netflix and later studied the various leaflets on places to visit which are provided in the cottage. Eladio was very tired from driving (on the wrong side of the road hahaha) and was soon in bed. Even though I have only been getting in about 5 hours sleep per night since we started our holiday I couldn't sleep so read a bit and finally got into bed at around midnight.

I woke up on Wednesday morning to rain. I thought it was 6 am English time but after my coffee when I looked again, it was actually 5 am. I do wish I could sleep more. But at least I had slept quite comfortably although the mattress was nothing like Kathy and Phil's memory foam one in Keighley.

Wednesday was the day we visited Bristol, Clifton College where my father and his brother Raymond went to school and St. Mary's Church in Henbury where my grandfather was the vicar from 1928 to 1957. It was also where my father and his sister, my Aunty Gloria were married by their father.

We left for Bristol that morning. We were told by our Airbnb cottage owner Kate that it was just a 30 minute drive but it is far longer; nearly an hour or more if you count trying to drive into the city centre owing to so much traffic. I have never been to Bristol apart from as a toddler to see my grandparents but know that the city means a lot to my father as he lived there from the age of 9 to 21 when he joined the navy. He remembers the city before the Blitz and I wondered that day if he would recognise it today. We didn't see any of the Bristol sites unfortunately as there was not much time in between arriving, shopping at M+S and Boots, having lunch at M+S and taking a taxi from the centre to Clifton College for our meeting there at 2.30. I had a good if rather rushed time at M+S and lunch there was actually quite pleasant. I found Bristol very large but very vibrant. Getting a taxi to Clifton was mission impossible. When you want Uber to work, in my experience, and that day was no exception, it never does. The drivers who seemed to be on their way suddenly cancelled and one went straight by us without picking us up and  charging me 4 euros when I hadn't cancelled which is appalling behaviour. In the end we had to take a normal taxi but as they don't accept visa cards I had to get money "out of the hole". I was disgusted to see that for 100 euros I got just 40 pounds which is such a rip off I was furious.

After that disaster we finally got to Clifton College an oasis of wonderful academia and the feeling of being at a very elitist British public school. The buildings are absolutely magnificent. Created in the mid to late 19th century it is probably one of the most beautiful schools in the country. It boasts many famous past pupils including General Douglas Haig, the head of the British Expeditionary Force in WW1. From my father's time there from 1928 to 1935 the most famous pupil is Trevor Howard, the British actor. But perhaps their most well known ex pupil is John Cleese of Fawlty Towers fame.

Clifton College with the statue of General Douglas Haig

Being a bit lost on arrival we asked two girl pupils (it is now co-ed but was only boys in my father's days) to guide us and they took us to reception. They told me how the whole school had sung Happy Birthday to my father on his 100th and of course raised the OC (Old Cliftonian) flag on 1st May in tribute to him who must be one of their oldest living pupils.

Arriving at Clifton College

A young pupil from the Lower Sixth, Ale Moody, would be our guide to take us on a tour of the College before taking us to meet the headmaster for a cup of tea. From this impeccably behaved young pupil we got an inside view of how the school works too. It is divided into houses like Harry Potter hahaha. Each house is where the boarding students reside or if they are day students they are where they relax. Ale showed us his house; South Town. My father's was North Town. We saw the latter which is actually today part of South Town as North Town is now a newer building. The houses have a Master Head as well as a boy head. Ale was the "tour rep" of South Town and it is the tour reps who show people round the school. Our tour rep, an Australian by the way, did  a very good job.

Ale Moody from the Lower 6th showing me the chapel of Clifton College

We saw the magnificent chapel, the library where a copy of my father's book would join the shelves of biographies of Old Cliftonians, the language centre where they teach French, German, Spanish, Russian, apparently Modern Greek and Chinese. The Chapel, apart from being for worship, is also where General Assembly takes place for the whole school each morning and of course it is where all the pupils sang Happy Birthday to my father on 1st May. I wonder if my father remembers his General Assemblies when he was a day pupil at the school. We also saw the pupils practicing cricket and other sports. As I looked a the beautiful playing field I could imagine my father and his brother playing cricket there too but nearly 90 years ago! Both Eladio and I got the feeling of a wonderful school spirit with its public school eccentricities but also a spirit of superb academia and learning. All the 750 or so pupils there are very privileged as was my father. Today over 20% of them are from overseas which makes the school have a very international feel about it. My father never blows his own trumpet but I know he was always quietly proud of having attended one of the very top schools in England.

After the wonderful tour in the hands of the young boy who I am sure will go on to do great things, we were returned to the Headmaster's PA, Emilie Castellano who by the way speaks perfect Spanish as she studied it at University. She ushered us into the headmaster, Dr. Timothy Greene's beautiful and peaceful study with a feeling of times gone by and he welcomed us warmly. I thanked him very much for all the school did for my father's birthday and he in turn told me just how important Old Cliftonians are in the school community. Eladio was much impressed as there is no such spirit anywhere in any school in Spain. I gave him my father's book, one for him and one for the library. Here is the moment when I did so.

With the headmaster of Clifton College handing him my father's book

We had a lovely warm welcome and left the school feeling very satisfied with the visit.

From Clifton College we took a taxi to Henbury, the village just outside Bristol where my father lived. The taxi took us to St. Mary's church and there waiting for us was the unofficial historian of the church, Roger Forse and his wife. It was a very moving moment when I first caught sight of the 890 year old Norman Gothic church where my grandfather was the vicar for so many years.

St. Mary's church in Henbury

It was a very big parish and he served many other churches around and had a lot of curates to help him. Being inside was similar to when I visited the church in Sledmere except that this time I didn't dare go up the pulpit. It would not have gone down well with our guide I don't think.  But Eladio took plenty of photos like this one of me in the church next to my grandfather's pulpit.

Inside my grandfather's church in Henbury

As in Sledmere, I wondered to myself whether my grandfather, Revd. John Collins Lloyd, could have ever imagined that his only surviving grandchild, me, would visit his church 90 years or so later after he took up the position as vicar there. It was a very emotional moment for me which I think neither Roger or his wife understood. They weren't very interested in my story and more interested in telling me the history of the church. That was interesting of course but what I really wanted to see or hear was something about my grandfather related to the church. Roger said he thought there might be a plaque somewhere but there wasn't.

I particularly wanted to see what is called The South Gate which is no longer in use today - the vicar of St. Mary's, also called Lloyd, who couldn't be there on Wednesday as he was ill, had told me in our correspondence that the South Gate was usually used for weddings. I have a photo of my grandfather at the gate and who knows if it wasn't on one of the days he married his two children, my father in 1953 and his sister Gloria in 1958.

My grandfather John Collins Lloyd outside the South Gate of St. Mary's church in Henbury

Me on Wednesday this week outside the same gate

I also wanted to see the inscription on the church tower in Latin which my father had told me about and always remembered. There it was: "Pulvis et umbra sumus" meaning We are dust and shade or shadow. Being a keen Latin scholar he has always remembered it. So it was important to see it. It gave me a thrill. Here is a close up of the inscription above the clock of the church tower.

The Latin inscription on my grandfather's church in Henbury which my father, aged 100, still remembers today

I was happy to hear on Wednesday that the inscription and clock are to be re-guilt and thought that would please my father. It certainly pleased me.

Just before we left I presented my father's book to Roger and his wife at the main entrance of the church.

Presenting my father's book to Roger and his wife at the church in Henbury

Roger had opened the church especially for us and we told him how grateful we were when we left. He told us to take a sprig of the wonderful lavender from the church. I did and I shall keep it to dry and give it to my father when we get home.

From the church we walked the short distance to Station Road to see the Vicarage where the family lived. My father told me it had been especially built for his father and family as when he was appointed to St. Mary's the old vicarage was in too bad a state to live in. Last year, the current vicar moved out of  the vicarage on Station Road for it to be repaired and when that happened vandals entered it and set it on fire. I was very upset to read it. Unfortunately the trees are so tall it was impossible to see the magnificent house which was my father's home  and which is set in enormous grounds but my goodness I was impressed by the size of the place.

It was getting late and we had to get back to Bristol to retrieve our car and then drive all the way to the village of Arlingham which is an hour away from Bristol. Again there was traffic and we got to The Red Lion in Arlingham where Amanda and Andy were sitting and waiting for us to have dinner, rather late. They had driven from their home in Exeter in their camper van - it was the only decent campsite in the area so they were a bit far from us. The drive was well worth it as I hadn't seen Andy for 10 years or so. By the way he was my father's ex pupil at B.G.S. too. It was great to see them both although I was pretty exhausted. I hardly concentrated on my food  - not very decent fish and chips - but spent the whole time talking to my very dearest friends. Here is a photo Eladio took of them.

Amanda and Andy at The Red Lion pub in Arlingham on Wednesday night

To think I have known Amanda since she was 11 and Andy since he was about 14 was much on my mind that night. We do go back a long time so it was wonderful to have dinner at The Red Lion in that small village that night. They are very much a part of my roots and my father's and it was fitting they should be a part of my journey here.

We left as early as we could at just past 10 pm as we had a long drive back to Yatton Keynell on small and narrow roads in the dark. The drive home was a nightmare. I think I must have set google maps to avoid motorways by mistake and it took forever to get home. We did so about an hour and a half later rather than the hour it is supposed to take. I was absolutely shattered when we were home and more or less fell into bed.

I was awake at 4.45 again on Thursday but at least I woke up to better weather. The sun would shine that day when we went to visit Raymond and my grandfather's grave in Uphill near Weston-super-mare. We would also visit my great grandmother's (my father's maternal grandmother) summer house there where my father and his family often visited during the holidays and where very sadly in 1938 his brother Raymond died of polio aged just 16. Amanda and Andy would be joining us that day.

My father never knew where his brother or father were buried but when I did the family tree with our friend Andy, he was the one to find out where they were and it is in the graveyard of the lovely Old Church of St. Nicholas perched on top of a hill with the most amazing 360º views of the whole area.  We also found out my grandfather, John Collins Lloyd, was buried there too next to his son. There is nothing to indicate that my father's mother is there. However, from a letter from Gloria to my father she writes that she was on her way to Uphill to take their mother's ashes. My grandmother died in November 1970 and very sadly Gloria and all her family died in May 1971 in a terrible air crash. So, I suspect that is the reason there is no engraving of her on the tombstone of her son and husband because Gloria died before she could have it engraved.  I have pressured the church administrator to find out but he has not been at all helpful. Maybe I should insist and then have her name added there. I wondered why both my grandfather and uncle are buried at this church. The only reason I can come up with is that this is because the church in Uphill may well have been the family church - there are other people from my grandmother's family buried there or again it could have been because Raymond died in Weston-super-mare nearby and it was easy to take his body there. His family were living in Henbury near Bristol and his funeral took place at my grandfather's church, St. Mary's.  The reason for my grandfather's burial there is more easily explainable; he would have wanted to lie next to his dear son who died so early in life even though he himself died in Ickenham near Uxbridge.  Raymond's death of "infantile paralysis" (polio) was very sudden and very tragic. It looked like he had the flu and he was taken from Henbury to Weston to be with his grandmother for her to look after him and at the same time for him not to be contagious to his siblings. He died very suddenly and it must have been terrible for the family. Born on 5th August 1922 he was just 3 years younger than my father and the brothers were very close. All my life Raymond has been to referred to me as "Uncle Raymond" and he has never been forgotten. In a way I have inherited the tragedy and he has been in my thoughts always. His photos have been on my father's desk all his life too and the sunny smiling young boy in the photo below  has never been forgotten.

Uncle Raymond shortly before he died, wearing his Clifton College uniform

This was going to be one of the most poignant visits on my trip to my father's roots. Eladio and I set off from our little cottage in Yatton Keynell near Chippenham and drove to Uphill where we would be meeting Amanda. Uphill is a little village with a small port above Weston and is a pretty little place. As the place name suggests it is on a hill and so is the church. Unfortunately it would not be open to see as it only used for worship in the month of August. It was a steep walk up to see this lovely Norman English church built in 1080 AD perched at the very top of a hill which commands the most spectacular views of the Bristol channel and all around. As Amanda said, it is a lovely place to be buried.

The old church of St. Nicholas in Uphill

As we walked up the steep path I wondered how coffins would have been taken up to the cemetery and could only imagine it was with quite a few pallbearers.

Once we got to the church, we wondered around the graveyard looking for Raymond and his father's grave as well as a grave belonging to the Scull family, the family of my maternal grandmother. It took a while and Eladio first found it. I walked towards it with a heavy heart thinking to myself who would have been the last person ever to visit it before me and I could only think it would have been my father's sister Gloria such a long time ago. I couldn't believe I was finally next to it.  I had never thought to bring flowers which of course is the thing to do. Amanda suggested I use some of the lovely reddish wild flowers growing by the wall of the cemetery and I took her advice. Here I am next to Uncle Raymond's and my grandfather's grave.

Next to my uncle and grandfather's grave

It is very near the church itself as you can see in the photo below.

The grave and the church

The inscription is very clear and says this: "To the unfading memory of Raymond Lloyd who died 15th October 1938 aged 16 years. Dearly loved. And in loving memory of his father John Collins Lloyd Vicar and Honorary Canon of Bristol who died 2nd April 1961. The law of his God is in his heart. Psalm 37.5". My grandfather died quite young for these days at just 74, Eladio's age. I was only 4 when he died but remember clearly when he did. He went for a walk (his constitutional), fell on ice I think and got up and felt fine. However a few days later he died very suddenly of thrombosis caused by the fall.

Seeing the grave of my grandfather and uncle gave me a bit of closure after writing about them in my biography and later we walked further up the hill and spied a watch tower which we walked up. The views were just spectacular. It was great to have Amanda by my side; my oldest friend and the person who worked on my book so hard with me. I think it was important also for her to accompany me to see the grave.

With Amanda at Uphill on Thursday

Feeling satisfied with our visit, we walked down the hill and by then it was past 13h and to quote Winnie the Pooh, "time for a little something". I found a place on Trip Advisor in Weston just off the sea front, called Hadley's at Number 1 and it was on number 1 The Boulevard a beautiful street. I had been told that Weston-super-mare was not what it was and had become a little run down. But actually many parts of it are really beautiful. I especially loved the old Victorian houses.  Hadley's was ok, nothing special but we enjoyed a meal together. Later Amanda and I would walk on the seafront while Eladio, bless him, went to the car to take a siesta.

The seafront was like all English seaside towns with its donkeys on the beach which I loved as a child although today find a little cruel. We bought a post card from one of the typical shops that sell things like "rock" only to be found at the seaside.

Rock and nougat for sale at WSM 

I later sent one from the letter box you can see in one of the two photos illustrating this week's post. I told my father I would try and send him one from every relevant point on this trip to his roots so that he could follow my journey.

On the beach with one of the sad little donkeys

The seafront is rather beautiful but neither Amanda nor I were happy to see a horribly new and modern pier in use rather than the beautiful old one which no doubt my father would have known well.

The beach at Weston-super-mare

Later we walked back to Eladio's car, woke him up, and drove to see my great grandmother's house on 22 Charlton Road called "Sundorne" when my father knew it. It's not far from the sea at the very end of the beach next to the golf course. We looked outside it and I imagined  my father and his family on holiday there. It was also sad to see the house where Raymond died. I doubted about knocking on the door when a lady came out and we spoke. I told her my story and very kindly she let me in to see inside and also the garden I was keen to see. I had read letters from Gloria as a child written from that house to Raymond describing the fruit in the garden. Imagine, I was visiting nearly 100 years later. The house now had been bought by the previous owners who had turned it into a nursing home so of course it was disappointing inside with none of the original features. But still, I got to see it and was happy that I did. Here I am outside it in a photo taken by Amanda to add to my collection of photos at some of  the most relevant places in my father's early life.

Outside my great grandmother's house in Weston-super-mare on Thursday

I thought it was a lovely house at least from the outside and it is deceivingly bigger inside than it looks. From my research into my father's book I found out that my great grandmother who lived in Shrewsbury moved there permanently when she became a widow, no doubt to be near her daughter, my grandmother, who lived in Henbury near Bristol.

Soon we were joined by Andy who unfortunately had to drive back to their home in Devon and couldn't be with us for the main part of the day. But he was on time for a well needed walk on the beach. We walked along the part near my great grandmother's house and it was lovely but very very windy; nothing like being on a beach in Spain hahaa.

A cold and blustery walk on the beach at WSM.

We were all tired after that and we parted ways until the next day, Friday, when our friends would visit us at our little Airbnb cottage. We would have lunch here the next day. Thus Eladio and I had to do some food shopping before we set off back to Yatton Keynell. I spotted both a Waitrose and an Asda and went for the former. I adore Waitrose as it has a wonderful range of food of the highest quality possible. We bought things like white crab meat, home made soups, more fruit and enough food to last us until the next stage of our journey to Wales.

We were home by about 7.30 English time and after putting everything away, sat down to a delicious meal of soup, salad, crab meat, cold cuts all followed by thick black cherries and tasty English strawberries. This is the season for strawberries in England and they are much sweeter and nicer than those grown all year round in Spain. Later we watched a bit  of a new episode of "La Otra Mirada" until I started to nod off and Eladio suggested we get an early night. I certainly needed one as up till that night I was surviving on just 4 to 5 hours sleep and with so much activity during the day I was more than exhausted and in dire need of sleep. Luckily I got about 2 hours more than usual and woke up at 5 am on Friday morning feeling a lot better.

It was sunny on Friday morning and would be sunny all day. It was also the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. Friday was to be our first day off from our intense programme on our trip to my father's roots and I think we were in need of it. We needed time off to rest and recharge our batteries. Andy and Amanda were coming to spend the day and I would prepare a picnic buffet type lunch to have in the beautiful grounds of Dartbury Cottage where we are staying. After a leisurely breakfast I prepared the main items on the menu and made Spanish tortilla, salad and  a bowl of cut up fruit including mango, local strawberries and raspberries. Our friends arrived in their amazing Mercedes camper van at around 1.30. We decided to go on a long walk to visit nearby Castle Combe and then come back for our lunch which we would have outside on the owners' table and chairs.

So we set off on a country road route with its lovely footpaths towards what is called England's prettiest village. Amanda had been before, as I had with the girls a couple of years and we were both keen to show it to Eladio and Andy. It would take us an hour to get there and an hour back, so quite a walk; about 10 km. It was  beautiful day and I soon had to shed my yellow sweat shirt. We passed cattle on the way, the most amazing beautiful Cotswold stone cottages and I imagined living here. I can tell you I wouldn't mind it. Just as we approached the village I spied a horse in a field and couldn't resist going to stroke it. It responded warmly and I only wished I had a sugar cube to give to it.

Me and the horse

As you know I love animals and am particularly attracted to horses and donkeys; although I never learned to ride. It was far too expensive a sport when I was a child. When I went to a posh junior school in Bradford, "Rossfield", plenty of my fellow pupils either had horses or went horse riding. When I asked my mother for horse riding lessons she told me the nearest I would ever get to them or to having a horse was with a pony tail. I shall never forget that hahahah.

There were beautiful houses on both sides of the road as we entered the village but thankfully that day not too many tourists. Busloads of Chinese tourists go there on their tours around The Cotswolds and it can be quite invasive but on Saturday we had the place more or less to ourselves. This is us at the beginning of this unique 15th century medieval village which looks just like it did when it was built and has been used in many television series such as Agatha Christie's The murder of Roger Ackroyd, Doctor Dolittle, Stardust, The Wolfman, Poirot, Robin of Sherwood and more recently, War Horse and Downton Abbey. It is the perfect location for period dramas. Andy set his camera timer and got a shot of the 4 of us at the entrance to the village.

The four of us and our friends' dog, Tess, on arrival in Castle Combe on Friday

We walked into the centre near the church and the local landmark, the market cross and from there up the famous street towards the bridge with the famous weavers' houses. This picturesque village was once a weaving town at the heart of the Cotswolds wool trade. It's a sight for sore eyes and absolutely stunning. I had to have a picture taken in the middle of the road from the bridge which is the classic view of the village and Andy kindly obliged.

On the main street in Castle Combe with its beautiful stone cottages

Here we stayed for a while by the bridge over the River Bybrook with its magnificent views of the lovely houses and the Church of St. Andrews. I particularly like that view from the bridge.

Happy to be in Castle Combe again

The four of us on the bridge at Castle Combe

I was so happy to be in Castle Combe again and so happy for Eladio to see this perfect picture postcard village of which there is nothing like it in Spain. He was duly impressed. Today we shall be visiting more pretty villages near hear including Lacock.

We then went to see the other part of the village - it only has three streets - including the lovely old church but I, at least had had  my fair share of churches and preferred to go to the pub. We went to the same one where Suzy, Oli and I had had lunch on our trip in 2016, The Castle Inn. It was not full and there were plenty of seats outside in the sun.

Outside the Castle Inn pub in Castle Combe

It was very hot for England and Amanda and Eladio preferred to sit in the shade on the walls of the old water pump beside the 14th century Market Cross which is perhaps one of the most important landmarks of the village.

It was late by then and we had an hour's walk back which meant lunch would be at around 4 pm. I have to say our usual home routine in Madrid has gone haywire here but who cares? On our way back we saw evidence that this affluent region is still into farming and there were plenty of cattle; even bulls. We saw one try to mount a cow which made for interesting viewing.

Red brown coloured healthy looking cows and a bull in a field on our walk back after our visit to Castle Combe

We didn't get back to our cottage, Dartbury Lodge, until at least 4 pm and we were all starving. I was very grateful I had prepared lunch before. So soon we were sitting round the outside table eating a delicious lunch with the tortilla and salad but also prawns and Scottish salmon and even pork pies which were delicious. Here are my dearest friends Andy and Amanda and Eladio about to dig in.

Lunch at Dartbury Lodge

It was a much healthier lunch than all the meals we have had out; mostly fish and chips or similar. We later sat around the table talking for a long time. Eladio went to have his much needed siesta and we sat and chatted. The owners, Katy, Graham and their delightful 4 year old girl, Phoebe, were preparing to leave for a weekend at Ascot and won't be back tonight. Thus we had the whole place to ourselves. Katy told us to have a look around their huge garden which we did and to our delight Amanda and I found swings and went on them. We felt like children again and Andy just had to have a photo of the two of us, two school friends who have known each other since we first met aged 11 at St. Joseph's College in Bradford.

Enjoying the swings in the owners' garden on Saturday

The day went past so fast and suddenly it was past 8 pm and time for our friends to leave to drive back to their campsite at least an hour from us in a village called Arlingham. Eladio and I just chilled out after they left.  We had decided not to have any dinner after our late lunch but come 10 pm, we were hungry again. We had a cup of soup and I had a piece of toast and some Wiltshire ham. Later we watched a bit more of La Otra Mirada until sleep came upon me. Thus we went to bed again relatively early and I had a better night's sleep once more.

Saturday came and we would visit Bath, one of Englands' most beautiful spa towns. It is the largest city in Somerset and known for its Roman Baths. The city itself, unsurprisingly, is now a World Heritage site. I went there in 2015 with Suzy when I visited her in London but am always game to return as it is such a beautiful city and I was keen to show it to Eladio.  We were lucky with the weather and it was sunny again. It's not the same seeing Bath in the rain as it is in the sunshine. It was actually to be our first day alone since we started this trip and was included in the programme as a respite from seeing my grandfather's churches, graves, my father's schools and the places he and his family lived. We needed a break and Bath provided it.

It's a short journey from where we are and we must have got there at around 11 am with plenty of time to see the city before lunch. We walked from the car park on Charlotte Street to the magnificent Abbey next to the Pump Room of the old Roman Baths where we had a table booked for 1.45.

The Abbey and The Roman baths are next to each other in Bath

Founded in the 7th century, the Abbey was built in the 10th century and was rebuilt in the 12th and 16th centuries. It is one of the largest examples of "perpendicular gothic architecture" in the country. Called an Abbey as it was founded by monks, it is really a cathedral. We thought it was lovely.

Well we thought everything in Bath was lovely really. From the centre of the town which was teeming with people owing to the good weather and it being a Saturday, we made our way to the river, The Avon, to see the Parade Gardens and the famous covered bridge, the Pulteney Bridge. People were sunbathing and sitting on deck chairs and I found the park charming.

In Parade Gardens in Bath on Saturday

Built in the 18th century for spa goers, they are beautifully kept gardens or a park by the river and privately owned. The flower beds are supposed to be some of the best in the country and the place is popular for weddings. We could have sat there all day on one of the deckchairs as other people were doing and I'm sure a picnic by the river would have been a great idea.

I got one of them out and sat it by the bandstand and made Eladio pose for the camera as it was such a gorgeous setting.

Eladio sitting on a deckchair in the Parade Gardens in Bath yesterday

From there we made our way to the nearby Pulteney Bridge over the River Avon. Crossing the river it was built in 1774. Designed by Robert Adam it was designed in a Palladian style and is rather unique in that it has shops built across each side of it. If you haven't seen it, it's best to describe it as being a covered bridge with buildings inside it.

Pulteney Bridge in Bath, one of the major landmarks

After visiting the Abbey, the Parade Gardens and Pulteney Bridge, we set off to see two more famous landmarks, the Circus and the Royal Crescent, both unique architectural structures of Bath. To quote Wikipedia, the Circus is "a historic street of large townhouses forming a circle with three entrances. Designed by John Wood the Elder, it was built in 1754 and is regarded as a preeminent example of Georgian architecture". I can only add it's magnificent. As it is a complete circle it is impossible to get the whole circle on camera but here is a part of it for the record.

A view of part of the "Circus" in Bath

The circus is famous in Bath but so is the Royal Crescent next to the beautiful Victoria Park on the edge of the city. Designed by John Wood the Younger and built in 1767, it is a row of 30 terraced houses laid out in a very large crescent shaped formation. If you have seen Connaught Place in New Delhi you may know that the former was inspired by the Royal Crescent. It is one of Bath's most iconic landmarks and one I was eager to show Eladio. He was duly impressed. It really is magnificent.

In front of the Royal Crescent yesterday in Bath

We walked back into town via the beautiful Victoria Park where I remember sitting with Suzy listening to an orchestra playing. It's far bigger than the Parade Gardens and again a perfect spot for a picnic.

We had a little time on our hands before lunch, so I dropped into M+S and to Boots for items I wanted but couldn't find. At 1.30 we went into the beautiful Pump Room Restaurant of bygone days. It is a part of the building that houses the Roman Baths which made Bath famous. Going into the Pump Room was like stepping back into time and I imagined the beautiful ladies in their 18th century costumes enjoying their afternoon tea. I wonder what they would have thought seeing all the Japanese and American tourists mobile phone in hand. A piano was playing and I don't think I could have chosen a better place for a meal in Bath. I had been there with Suzy 3 years ago and we both remember it with nostalgia. So I felt lucky to be back.

Eladio in the Pump Room restaurant in Bath on Saturday

There was plenty of choice on the menu and even though it was far too early for afternoon tea, that's what I went for. Eladio isn't into cucumber sandwiches, scones, etc, so he had a soup and a fish dish. I, of course, indulged. Here is the delicious afternoon tea I was served yesterday in the Pump Room.

Afternoon Tea in the Pump Room yesterday. It was scrumptious

After our meal in such a beautiful setting, we went to see the Roman Baths one of which you can see from inside the building of the Pump Room. It really is a well preserved Roman site once used for public bathing. They came about because of the natural hot springs upon which the city was built. Already in the Iron Age the water was considered to possess healing powers. But it was the Romans in 75AD  who built a religious spa complex which later became a bathing and social venue called Aquae Sulis "the waters of Sulis".  Ever since people came to bathe there and in the early days to worship too. I didn't try the water as I knew it tastes disgusting but doctors in the 17th century prescribed it for illnesses.

Eladio at the Roman Baths yesterday

From the Roman Baths we made our way to Waitrose  to get a few more provisions and then traipsed across the city with two heavy carrier bags, back to our car. We were home 30 minutes later and after packing everything away Eladio had his siesta and I went outside to read in the sun. The temperature reached 22ºc yesterday and I wanted to make the most of it. All in all we had a lovely day in Bath and Eladio loved it.

Back home, Suzy was getting ready to go to a wedding of friends she knew when she first went to London and lived in the ghastly area of Whitechapel. She had been to the hairdressers and had a lovely bun hairdo which suited her beautifully. I was happy to see she was wearing one of my dresses and using a beautiful black bag given to me for my 60th. Oli took a few snaps and sent them to us. Suzy was to sing for the bride and groom and I have yet to see the videos. No doubt she sang beautifully.

Suzy looking like the belle of the ball yesterday, all ready to go to a wedding. 

We had the quietest afternoon since we began our travels and a well deserved rest. It was nice being here on our own too as the owners are away and we had the whole place to ourselves.

We weren't very hungry but being food lovers, we made a light dinner after which we watched the news in Spanish on my iPad followed by a weekly programme called "Informe Semanal" and at about 10 pm I was nodding off and I just had to go to bed.

I was up again this morning at 5 or just before but I had rested and have recharged my batteries for the next stage of our journey. Today we shall be visiting some of the  Cotswolds towns or villages nearby. You will hear about it in next week's blog post which I shall be publishing from Dublin, yes Dublin's fair city which will be the last stop after Anglesey on this amazing journey and holiday.

I shall leave you now to make my breakfast, always my favourite meal of the day as it when I am at my hungriest.

Wishing you all a great week ahead, I hope you have enjoyed this bumper post of our holiday in England and trip down memory lane to my father's roots. I hope he enjoys it too when Suzy prints out a copy for him today.

Cheers till next time my friends,
Masha