Looming large, is the Devon Family History Society’s 50th birthday, sell-out, residential conference. My house is now crammed with goody bag items, raffle prizes and other paraphernalia. There is also the excitement of All About that Place, a ten-day, free, online event, when you can listen to nearly two hundred ten minute local and family history related talks. There’s one from me on Writing Women’s Stories, sponsored by Pharos Tutors. You can already here me chatting about researching women on the Journeys into Genealogy Podcast with Emma Cox. There is also one from Mistress Agnes, where she shares some of her medical advice from the seventeenth century. That one is sponsored by A Few Forgotten Women.
Then, because I am officially bonkers, at dawn on the day I am supposed to be starting to lead the team running the conference, I am doing a sponsored walk in aid of the Samaritans. Not bonkers to support such a great cause but the timing could have been better. If you can spare a few pennies in support of what is sadly a much needed service, you can Donate to Janet’s Dawn Walk here. Call 116123 if you are struggling.
Amidst all this there will be much welcome overseas visitors and more travel hither and yon. Watch this space.
Today was the day that our luck with both the weather and the wifi signal in the van deserted us. Fortunately, the sat-nav had recovered from its hissy fit and was now working, This was just as well as we had to negotiate the city centre and my attempts to download a map were foiled by the demise of the wifi signal. I was not relishing using my phone as Google Maps and I are not friends.
We waited until afternoon, so were able to look round the Weir Garden at Swainshill, on the road to Hereford, in just a light drizzle rather than a downpour. The first record of this riverside, woodland gardens was in 1673 but Roman remains have been discovered on the site, including an octagonal cistern, thought to be a shrine to water nymphs. Given the scale of these remains, it is thought that this was probably just a bath house, rather than a dwelling. In the eighteenth century, a typical ‘picturesque’ garden was designed, in consultation with Humphrey Repton. As well as the woodland walk, there was a walled garden to explore, which dates from this period. This part of the garden is walled on only three sides to maximise the sun.
Part of the reason for why Herefordshire? Why now? Was a Fisherman’s Fiends concert, which was being held at the Amp, in the car park of an arts venue called the Courtyard. This is basically a huge circus tent, with massive tent pegs driven into the car park’s tarmac. Given that the venue now had no car park of its own, we’d been directed to a nearby public car park. I’d received numerous emails about arriving early and with a sell out 1400 capacity venue, I was concerned about securing a parking space in the designated car park. Our plan was to get ahead of the rush by driving in early, securing a parking space and then find somewhere to eat before the show. Finding the car park was not the issue, it was right by the football stadium and you are going to be ahead of me here, therein lay the problem. I still think it is ridiculous that the football season starts in August but we made the mistake of arriving before the home game had finished. The car park was rammed, with cars parked in ridiculous places as well as in actual spaces. We retreated gracefully.
Plan b was to drive a little way out of the city and find a pub with a car park that served food all day, as it was 4pm, so not traditional food serving time. Just to the north, we came upon the Swan at Aylestone and were able to consume vegetarian lasagne and toffee sundae (me) and scampi followed by apple pie (Chris). We headed back to the car park as the football fans were leaving, somewhat disgruntled as their team had lost. Apart from a bit of a wait for a gap in those leaving the car park to enable us to get in, there were no problems.
Once at the venue, the predicted long queues for security were non-existent, ok so we were still VERY early. The only issue with the venue was the not very comfortable chairs and the humidity. Fisherman’s Friends were their usual brilliant selves. Then it started raining. We had noticed that it was quite damp underfoot but by the interval, it was clear that some sections of the audience were being rained on. The fact that the leaks were perilously close to lighting rigs was a little disconcerting. We were thankful not to be positioned under one of the leaks but it seems that people behind us a few rows back were and the car park on which the marquee was erected was on a slope. There was a veritable river rushing past our feet for most of the second half but it did at least seem to lessen the humidity.
Then, the following day, it was back home to ten days of mayhem before heading off on more adventures, so watch this space. Just whose idea was it to be away from three weeks in the six preceding a conference, when I am heading up the organising team?
It always feels strange posting about trips away when I am safely back home but I don’t normally post in real time. This was the day that the sat-nav decided not to work; this was apparently my fault. Never fear, I can do old school with my trusty ordnance survey map. I could locate the day’s National Trust property of choice, in this case Croft Castle, although it was a little difficult to work out on which side of the large estate the entrance lay. We overshot it at the first attempt, as we were expecting a useful brown sign. It turned out there was a very small brown sign, totally obliterated from our first approaching direction due to an overgrown tree.
We’ve been really fortunate that, throughout our visit to Herefordshire, the weather has been a lot less rainy than forecast, so we decided to risk one of the parkland trails. Not wishing to push our staying dry luck or our stamina we opted for the shortest, brown trail labelled Fishpool Dingle ‘Picturesque’ Walk. We wondered if ‘picturesque’ was going to be doing some heavy lifting here. Apparently, the eighteenth century ‘picturesque’ movement was a contrast to the pastoral naturalisation beloved of Capability Brown. This ‘gothic paradise’, complete with grotto viewpoint, was created in the Fishpool Valley in the late eighteenth century. It was a very pleasant woodland stroll, where we could see some industrial heritage include a restored medieval dam, a lime kiln and the ‘gothic’ pump house, dating from about 1800, which housed the water wheel and pump that provided the castle with water. There was also the remains of a charcoal burning platform; the charcoal was then used to fire the limekiln. There was a profusion of blackberries and elderberries as well as some birds including blackbirds, robins, great tits, a wren and woodpigeons. According to Merlin, we could hear a goldcrest, a chiff chaff (one I can actually just about recognise for myself) and a greater spotted woodpecker.
A brief pause for refreshment next and as none of the cake on offer appealed, today we were ’forced’ to consume caramel Magnums instead, no hardship there. Continuing to ride our ‘it is still dry’ luck we next explored the walled garden. The walls round the two acre plot were built in 1801; there were plenty of grapevines in evidence. The whole garden covers nine acres. This is managed by just two paid gardeners, supported by volunteers. Whilst most of the gardens and woodland looked positively autumnal, there were carpets of miniature cyclamen outside the walled garden, which I would normally expect to see in early spring.
We then looked at St. Michael and All Angels Church, which was the Croft family’s chapel but was also open to parishioners. This was built in the mid-fourteenth century, extended early in the sixteenth century and re-dedicated in 1515. There was a partial rebuilding in the early seventeenth century. The church includes Sir Richard Croft’s ornate tomb, which dates from the fifteenth century, Sir Richard fought on the side of the Yorkists in the wars of the Roses and was the treasurer for the household of Henry VII.
The Croft estate was founded about 1055 and a motte an bailey castle was erected by Bernard de Croft aka Bernard the Beaded, who was a Norman who had arrived in the reign of Edward the Confessor. Croft was part of the chain of Norman castles intended to protect the Welsh-English border. The fifteenth century Crofts descended from Owen Glyndower. In 1544, Sir James Croft was one of the leaders of the Wyatt Rebellion, which was a protest against Mary Tudor’s proposed marriage to Philip of Spain. Croft was pardoned, served Elizabeth I as Comptroller of the Royal Household and was buried in Westminster Abbey. James’ son, Edward, was accused of casting spells to bring about the death of Elizabeth I’s favourite, Dudley, in 1588. Royalist, Sir William Croft was killed during the English Civil War. The then Castle was deliberately demolished so it could not become a Parliamentarian stronghold. His brother, Herbert Bishop of Hereford, rebuilt the castle as a home, rather than a defensive structure. It was sold to the Johnes family in 1746 and they did further alterations. In 1780, Thomas Johnes II inherited both Croft and Hafod, which is an estate near Aberystwyth. He spent a fortune on Hafod and had to sell Croft in 1799 to pay his debts. Further remodelling took place in the 1910s, when the Kevill-Davies family owned the Castle, which was at that time tenanted. In 1923, after an absence of over 170 years, the Croft family bought the Castle back.
The increasing efforts by the National Trust to be both family friendly and inclusive were in evidence. Here there were 3d printed ‘touchable’ objects and there was a Wyvern trail to follow. There were several objects that particularly appealed including a wall hanging made by staff, volunteers and visitors in 2018 to commemorate the Representation of the People Act, which gave women the vote; a slice from the tree under which Sir William Croft was killed at the Battle of Stokesay in 1645; some 1760 fireplace tiles by Sadler and Green; a seventeenth century stump-work box; a small fabric collage of the castle and an inlaid table displaying many semi-precious stones.
The return journey was relatively uneventful, although we did overshoot the final turning. We should have been alerted by the pervading smell of guano, as farmers near the site have been spreading fertilizer over the past few days.
After a resounding early morning thunderstorm, we utilised our National Trust membership as usual and paid a visit to Berrington Hall near Leominster, pronounced Leminster. The rain had died down to an occasional drizzle by the time we arrived. We began by looking at the house. Co-incidentally, one of the volunteers was a former vicar of a parish near home.
Thomas Harley, the fourth son of the Earl of Oxford was a London wine merchant, an MP and the Lord Mayor of London in 1767. Wanting a country residence, in 1775, he acquired the Berrington estate and Henry Holland designed the Georgian mansion that now stands. Holland’s detailed estimate, dated 1778, survives and he quoted a total price of £14.500. The house was finished in 1783. Inevitably, it went over budget and expensive structural repairs were soon needed. Berrington’s landscaped gardens were the final project of Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown and in 1775, the five daughters of Thomas Harley each planted a plane tree, one of which still survives.
After Thomas Harley’s death in 1804, his daughter, Ann and her husband George Rodney, inherited Berrington. Their descendants lived there until the depletion of their fortunes and in 1901, the estate was sold to MP and Manchester cotton merchant, Frederick Cawley. The house was used as a convalescent home for wounded soldiers in World War II. In 1957, Frederick’s grandson gave Berrington to the National Trust on the condition that his grandmother, Frederick’s wife, the dowager Lady Vivienne, could remain living there until her death. Lady Vivienne lived to the age of 101 and was still inhabiting Berrington twenty years later. The family were keen horse owners and horse trials were held at Berrington until into the twenty-first century.
Furnishings are sparse at Berrington but the downstairs ceilings are spectacular and their USP is the display of costumes, many of which are handmade by the volunteer sewing team. I particularly liked a display of replica pockets and reticules, a miniature labourer’s smock and a wig made from crepe paper. We couldn’t resist dressing up; my dress was incredibly heavy. There were also several displays relating to conservation and cleaning. Currently on view was the widest dress owned by the National Trust; it is often not appreciated that the Trust is responsible for the conservation of 40,000 items of clothing. The dress in question is a court mantua, worn by Ann, wife of Thomas Harley, just once, in 1760, at the court of George III. There is four metres of material in the skirt alone and a further three metres in the train. Ninety percent of what was on display was original; when found stored in a box, the dress was missing a left sleeve and a stomacher. The dress is due to be removed from display in November, while a more suitable case for it is made. Today’s cake of choice was orange and poppy seed; not quite up to yesterday’s standard. We had a quick look round the walled garden but the weather was a deterrent. It was lovely to see the names of all Berrington’s former and current gardeners inscribed on the beams of the potting shed.
Still with an eye on the weather forecast, we decided to go to Goodrich Castle on what was predicted to be the least worst day we had left. As things turned out, after some light drizzle first thing, the day was hot and sunny. Possibly a little too hot to be ideal and certainly humid but we counted this as a win. My inspirational, lower high school history teacher was a Mrs Goodrich, so even the castle’s name had positive connotations. We began with a recce of the shop and were pleased to learn of new a English Heritage initiative, which gives members discounts in the shop and café. It was also good to see the child-friendly free activities on offer. I was vaguely amused by the placement of an advert for English Heritage membership outside the toilets that read ‘Members go Free’.
We availed ourselves of an audio guide, which wasn’t the greatest success. Firstly, it read two different explanations simultaneously and then, even on full volume, it was ridiculously quiet, even for those of our party (that would be me) with good hearing. So this is what I gleaned from interpretation boards, with the usual proviso that none of this is checked for accuracy.
Godric Mappeson, for whom Goodrich is named, built the first castle on this site in about 1100 but none of this early castle still stands. The keep, that is the earliest part of the existing castle, was built by Richard de Clare about 1150. In the early years of the thirteenth century, William Marshall owned Goodrich, amongst many other properties. By the end of that century, Henry III had granted the rights to the castle to his half-brother William de Valence. French nobleman, de Valence, who was thus uncle to Edward I, built much of what remains today. Regarded as a foreign upstart by his neighbours, he set out to build an impressive and intimidating edifice, yet Goodrich did not have to defend itself against enemies until the seventeenth century. Instead, the castle functioned as a domestic residence, although most of its owners had properties elsewhere, so were not permanent residents. Unusually, the castle has stained glass windows, which reflect its domestic function. By 1326, the castle had passed into the hands of the Talbot family who were still in residence at the end of the sixteenth century. They were responsible for extending and improving the castle. Royalist, Sir Henry Lingen, held the castle during the English Civil War when the Parliamentarians held it under siege. The Parliamentarians had a special large mortar cast, ‘Roaring Meg’, which could fire 200lb shells and destroyed part of the castle, then the remainder was further demolished to ensure that it was beyond repair.
The approach to the castle is via two drawbridges; the first, at right angles to the moat, leads to the barbican. This was modelled on Edward I’s barbican at the Tower of London and is a D shape. The second drawbridge leads across the moat, which never had water in. As the latrines exited directly into the moat, the lack of water may have been an issue. Here at Goodrich, one of only a few portcullis mechanisms remains.
We stopped to admire the red stone castle and watch the many swallows and martins wheeling and diving, some still with young in their nests, constructed in out of the way nooks in the castle. Once inside, we found a way to reach the battlements that didn’t involve a perilous spiral staircase and were rewarded with lovely views across the Wye Valley.
After some sustaining and very tasty passionfruit and lime cake we set off for nearby Symonds Yat. I had been here once before as a child, in 1968 and the only real memory was sparked by a photo of my mum taken at the time. I was hoping to be able to find the spot where it was taken. It seemed that the wall that she was standing by had been raised and vegetation growth meant that, what I think was the exact spot, no longer had a view but we took a photo anyway and also one a little further along, where you could see the view. Symonds Yat is the site of an Iron Age fort, built about 2500 years ago. It is thought to have fallen into disuse in the hundred years before the Roman invasion. It really was too hot to walk along any of the paths in the area, so we returned home via a supermarket stop.
There was a half hour delay through Hereford due to roadworks/volume of traffic and probably an accident, as three ambulances squeezed through the traffic to pass us. It got to 29 degrees in the car, which was less than pleasant. In the evening, we set off to meet a school friend at nearby Tillington. We went a fairly strange route as I had inadvertently put the wrong postcode in the sat nav but thanks to my map reading ‘skills’ we found the venue without much trouble. It is always lovely to catch up with people you haven’t seen for many years, in this case we think twenty-five and find we still have plenty to talk about.
Another month and another recent short trip away in the pursuit of our aim to stay in every English county. The county of choice this time was Herefordshire. In the hope of dodging the rush hour traffic, I left earlier than I needed to join Chris and the caravan. Dodge the traffic I did but instead I had to cope with blinding early morning sun for much of my journey. That accomplished, after a short wait so we didn’t arrive before check in time, we were on our way. Somehow along the way my phone screen went black. The phone was working as I could ring myself up using Chris’ phone but a blank screen. Apart from a few slow patches, the journey was uneventful and we arrived just as the site was open for new arrivals. We were staying about eight miles north west of Hereford. I had cunningly noted which pitches had the best wifi coverage but unfortunately these were not the sort of pitch that we had booked and I anticipated the need to stand on one leg under a tree to get reception.
Once on site there was good news. Once I was in the shade, I could just faintly see my phone well enough to increase the brightness and all was well. There was also one bar of wifi from the van so I was content. Not that I wanted to spend all day online but I did have the job I must not mention to do, as well as a conference to organise. Once set up, we sat in the sun and read (me) or fell asleep (Chris). I was determined to get to the end of Philippa Gregory’s Normal Women at the second attempt. It is excellent but huge and as an inveterate footnote reader, I am mildly irritated by the fact that the footnotes are only available online. I do appreciate that the book is on the cusp of too many pages without its fifty-four pages of footnotes but still.
Day 2
I was torn between wanting it to be dry, at least during the day, while we were away and wanting it to rain at home to keep my plants alive. Of course it could do both but that might be too much to hope for. As it was, the forecast for Hereford was decidedly wet for the rest of the week, so in a hurried rearrangement of our itinerary, we opted for the most outdoorsy option and headed to Bodenham Lakes nature reserve. As usual, I followed our route on my ordnance survey map. Predictably, the land was parched as it was at home and there were signs of autumn, with ripe blackberries, rosehips and falling leaves. This part of the county contains several orchards and there was soft fruit growing in evidence, as well as Hereford cattle and traditional timber-framed buildings. The precise location of the reserve is not marked, so we were relying on the sat nav, which can be notoriously unreliable with rural postcodes. Spying a blackberrying local, we asked for directions. It turned out we were almost there and said helpful local advised us to park by the church to avoid having to pay to park. Despite feeling that we should probably make a contribution via our car parking fee, we did park by the church, which means we could see the interesting remains of the market cross and the cross well.
It is an interesting reserve and having been directed by another helpful local, we paused in a couple of hides. For those who are interested in birding, our observations were: Canada geese, Egyptian geese, Greylag geese, mute swans, coots, a wood duck, mallards, a moorhen, cormorants, grey herons, little egrets and a great-crested grebe. Away from the lakes, we spotted woodpigeons, crows, a magpie and a green woodpecker who posed for a photo, although was a long way away, so I had to use full zoom. Thanks to the Merlin app, I also heard dunnock, robins, blue tits, great tits and long-tailed tits.
On the way back to the car, we did have a quick look inside the church. Judging by the fact that everything was draped in cloths, they have bats in residence. Back to the van to avail ourselves of the facilities, have lunch and a quick sit in the sun. Once it got a little cooler, we headed to nearby Staunton on Wye, planning a short stroll along the Wye Valley Walk, which shares its course with the Three Rivers Ride. Normally, having already walked round the reserve, we’d have done this on a different day but mindful of the weather forecast, this was the day. Staunton on Wye is a bit of a misnomer as it is at least two miles away from the river. The Wye Valley Walk is also some way from the river bank. Having looked at the map, this wasn’t a surprise but I was hoping for more than one very brief glimpse of the river. We did hear a woodpecker, both on our outward and return walks but failed to spot this one.
We called in at Oakhurst Fam Shop, that was en-route, looking at ‘the taste of Herefordshire’ and other goodies that were on offer. I am sure this was all very good quality and there were some lovely non-food items but the prices were eye-watering. The wifi had deserted the site at lunchtime but the one bar returned by evening.
Green woodpecker taken on full Zoom from 200 yards away.
Apart from the delights of the annual invasion of no longer so small folk, life continues to be hectic. Despite saying ‘never again’ numerous times, I find myself in the throes of residential conference organising once again. A sell-out event to commemorate Devon Family History Society’s 50th anniversary this one. Please can anyone explain why, when I am definitely ticking things off the to do list, it isn’t getting any shorter?
I am excited to be part of The Society of Genealogists’ ‘All About That Place’ event again this year. You can join in this free online event in October, details can be found here. Mistress Agnes is also taking part. She doesn’t speak quite as we do. Obviously she doesn’t speak in authentic seventeenth century language, or none of you modern folk would understand her but she likes to give a flavour of her time. After an unbelievable nearly twenty years of our acquaintance, I am fairly fluent in Mistress Agnes but I just wanted some advice on a couple of phrases. I accidently enquired of AI, rather than Mr Google and before I could paste in the actual phrases was amused to receive the following reply, “Hark, gentle traveler! Thou hast provided the stylistic guidelines, yet the core message or topic is missing. Please bestow upon me the text, idea, or query thou wishest to transform, and I shall gladly render it into the proper phrasing of the seventeenth century. If it pleaseth thee, share with me the subject matter or text thou wishest to translate. The intended audience (e.g., a royal court, a common peasant, a trusted friend).The desired tone (e.g., solemn, poetic, or comedic).I shall then pen thy words with the utmost historical care.”
Coincidentally, I’ve been part of two sessions on school records this week. The primary school local to where I used to live celebrates its 150th anniversary next year and we are all set to gather memories of the school in preparation. At the same time, I received a very exciting email offering me the school log book dating from 1900-1919 for the school relating to another of my one-place studies. This had been rescued from a skip many years ago when the school building was converted to a private dwelling. You can imaging how thrilling this was to receive and work has begun to transcribe this. It will then be made publicly available.
In another local history project, I’ve been tracing the story of a young midshipman who drowned in 1823 and at first seemed to leave very little trace in the obvious naval records. A muster roll for a single ship opened to door to a fascinating story, an involvement in the Napoleonic Wars and the 1812 war with America, as well as a spell as a prisoner of war and an act of bravery.
I’ll be off on another short visit soon, so expect more news from a caravan site near me. We are still trying to tick off the final few counties in my ‘every county in England’ quest. The plan is to stay, visit a National Trust property and an English Heritage property in each. There are four more on the list for this year, although, to be fair, three of them I have definitely stayed in before but just not as part of this project.
You can play the game of trying to spot me if you wish.
You would think that there would have been little time for family history with all this gadding about hither and yon in recent weeks. After all, I’ve been away every month for the last five months and there are at least three more trips planned for this year. Time away from family history? Not a bit of it. There have been a lot of historical goings on lately. I’ve been giving talks as usual. It was a little while ago now but what a privilege to be part of the Society of Genealogists’ Mental Health day. I managed to find some fascinating case studies of those who spent time in an asylum. I was able to listen to some of the other excellent presentations but I must single out Dai Davies’ Remembering ourAncestors who died by Suicide . Do try to catch this if you can. They are presenting it again for the Pharos Anniversary Webinar week and I will be up again then on the topic of marginalised ancestors. I don’t think I’ve mentioned that I’ve been chatting to Andrew Martin as part of his Family Histories Podcast, talking about by straw plaiting ancestress and an elusive 3x great grandmother. You can listen in; I am part of series 11 along with some other great guests.
I host Zooms for more than one organisation and if I’m honest, not all the presentations hold my interest but there have been some fascinating ones amongst those I’ve heard recently. I particularly enjoyed ‘At Home in History – reflections on writing the history of domestic life’ from Jane Hamlett and Pam Vass’ ‘Kernow to the Crystal Palace. The Remarkable Ramblings of a Cornish Fishwife: Mary Kelynack and the Great Exhibition’. There are also some more potentially excellent talks to listen to in the diary .
Currently, I am coming to the end of leading my Pharos course on researching female ancestors, whilst at the same time, feeding back on students’ family histories that they have written as part of my writing your family history course; we’ve had stories of Irish brickmakers, handloom weavers and much more. I’ve been putting the final touches to my own biography (it has only taken fourteen years) and am enjoying supporting my new cohort of autobiography writers in the Society of Genealogists’ write your Life Story Club.
I am very excited that both Mistress Agnes and I will be contributing to this year’s All About That Place event. Then I’ve been submitting my proposals for Rootstech 2027, personning a local history exhibition and uploading some more stories of fatherless girls for A Few Forgotten Women. It is my turn to write the sample story for the next Forgotten Women Friday communal research day. I chose someone with a family name and managed to weave an account out of very few documentary appearances. Watch this space for the call for volunteers for that one. And there’s more, as one of my friends would say. I’ve been helping to get a co-authored book ready for publication and continuing preparations for the Devon Family History Society 50th anniversary conference, which is now a scarily short three months away.
Add to this the job we must not mention and I’m living my best history/family history life. Not roses but I do still have time to smell the flowers.
It always feels odd uploading holiday posts once I am safely back home but here is our final day in Wales. Today is our last day and we head north to Newton House, to tick the ‘National Trust property in Carmarthenshire’ box. We found this property a bit ‘alternative’. It is used more as a community space than as a way to share an historical narrative. Today the mothers and toddlers are meeting here and there’s a Disney film showing in the basement with a bed for viewers to lounge on. There is plenty of modern art work on display. This is in keeping with the ethos of the last owner Richard Rhys, who inherited the estate in the 1960s and turned it into a ‘castle for the arts’, holding festivals to showcase, music, art and craft. It also became a base for the National Theatre. The property was acquired by the Trust with no accompanying legacy for preservation or re-furnishing and it seem not a great deal is known about its history.
The current house was built in 1660 by Edward Rice on the site of a former Tudor hunting lodge and the Rice/Rhys family held it until it was given to the Trust. George Rice-Trevor, the 4th Baron Dynevor, was involved in trying to supress the Rebecca Riots, when rioters burned crops on the estate. These disturbances were similar to the south of England’s Swing Riots and took place between 1839 and 1843 as protesters objected high levels of taxation and the tolls that were levied on turnpike roads. Things that catch my eye include a mummified cat, allegedly hidden under the floor boards for luck, samples of old wallpaper and plaster, an elaborate papier mache ceiling and the mini biographies of former servants. There are also a couple of intriguing paintings. In one, the sitter ages by thirty years depending on which angle it is viewed from and another, of three children, seems to include ‘ghost children’. It seems this is not an overpainting. Officially, the guides have been told to say it is a trick of the light.
The landscape was designed by Lady Cecil Rice née Talbot in the mid eighteenth century and the park is a grade 1 site of special scientific interest and national nature reserve because of the lichens and fungi found here. The extensive Dinefwr estate is famous for White Park Cattle. We don’t see any but there are some deer in the misty distance.
Persistent drizzle dissuades us from exploring or walking a mile each way to view the twelfth century Dinefwr Castle, which was in the hands of the Rhys family for eight centuries. The original castle, which was captured by Lord Rhys in about 1165, was built in the nineth century, who then had the current castle built. So it is back to the van for a final lazy afternoon before an uneventful trip home.
There were plans for three out of the four days of our stay, so a decision had to be made about what to do with the spare day. We are aware that there are parts of the country we’ve never been, so places have to be particularly special for us to be thinking of a return visit. With that in mind, we are unlikely to stay in this area again, so I chose a return visit to the wetlands to see the section we didn’t have the energy for last time. Today we are exploring the Millenium Wetlands, totally different from what we have already seen. This section is almost devoid of people and we pop in and out of various hides to see what we can see. I am making full use of the Merlin app, which tells me what I can hear, so I am counting those on my list. Excited to have very nearly but sadly not quite, been quick enough to photograph a chiffchaff, of which, Merlin tells me there are a great many, chiffing and chaffing away. List below for bird fans as usual.
The café was an obligation of course and then a hunting for something even more elusive than a rare bird, the lesser spotted and endangered species that is a bank of a specific variety. We establish the address and ask Sally the sat nav to take us to the nearest car park. Just a shame this car park is no longer operational. We find on-street parking, for one hour only, the bank, says Google maps on my phone, which has very little battery due to all the bird identifying, is a seven minute walk away and we safely locate it. This branch of this bank is due to close in a couple of months due to ‘nobody using it in the afternoons’. It is afternoon. We spend 40 minutes there during which time two harassed staff try to cope with at least two dozen nobodies, all with less than straightforward queries. In the end we give up waiting and rush back to the car just as our allotted hour expires.
The afternoon is spent using the one bar of wifi to try to uncover the story of a bigamist. Yes I know I said this was, unusually, a no family history trip but I fell over this in the process of solving a totally different query that popped into my inbox.
Birds seen: Goldfinch, Chiffchaff, Blackcap, Egret, Moorhen, Mallard, Blackbird, Jackdaw, Wood Pigeon, Great Tit, Black-backed Gull, Shelduck, Yellow-billed Duck, Re-breasted Goose, White-winged Wood Duck, Bufflehead, Snow Goose, a Puss Moth caterpillar and a Slow Worm (yes, I know the last two aren’t birds).
The History Interpreter - Janet Few 