Still catching up...

   I know, I've been back a week and I am still not caught up with all the entries I wrote but could not post in England.  But another batch is going up, as I figure what shots I will need for Venezuela, the next stop on my peripatetic sabbatical...  the first one is about the Cotswolds, and the picture above is from one of the lavender farms there.   They even make lavender ice cream!

Hunting for the White Horse Inn, Dinner with a Hobbit WED. JULY 21

   Today we made the 2 hour drive to Cambridge, stopping at the American military cemetery where many of crewman killed in bombing missions over Europe during WW2 are buried, and the names of the missing are recorded on a special wall. Once in Cambridge during my exploration time I went looking for the site of the White Horse Inn.  It was a pub where a group of students and tutors met (secretly, in a back room) during the 1520's and studied the Bible in English and discussed Luther's writings.  It was the first English-speaking student small group Bible study, and all current ones can trace their spiritual ancestry back to it (except maybe for the fact that they met over beer).  Some of its members went on to be leaders of the Reformation in England, and several were burned at the stake under Bloody Mary.  The two most famous were Ridley and Cranmore—principle author of the Book of Common Prayer.  When I first visited Cambridge in 1994 I stumbled across a plaque in the sidewalk without realizing what I had found.  Upon discovering its significance I looked for it again on my next trip and couldn't find it.  This time I knew where it was supposed to be, but still couldn't find it for a while.  I discovered that because of a building remodel the plaque in the sidewalk was gone—a new one had been put on a near-by wall.  I had walked right by it several times without seeing it, because was looking at the ground, not the walls.  There is probably a sermon illustration there somewhere.
   We had dinner in the private Mountbatten* dining room in Christ's College with a hobbit.  Well, that was how someone described him… the Rev. Dr. Malcolm Guite—small, fuzzy, convivial over food and wine and a poet and poetic scholar.  He recited some poetry, some his some that was written by others that he loved (especially Seamus Heaney), and talked, and ate, and talked.  If Lewis and his friends talked and shared their writings like this, I can see why they had little interest in television when it came along.  Sherry before the meal, red and white wine during, and Port after all bore the label of the college's private cellar.  As did the after-dinner chocolates.  Dessert does not end a meal where conversation continues—cheeses and chocolates come after…  I wanted to participate in the whole experience, so I had at least a sip of each of the beverages—but it was probably wasted on me.  I savored the chocolates to make up for it, though.  It was like dinner at Rivendell…
  You can probably figure out which person in the picture is Malcolm.

*Lord Mountbatten was, among other things, the great-uncle of Prince Charles, and served as Supreme Commander Allied Forces South-East Asia during WW2.  The sword he received at the surrender of Singapore at the end of the war is mounted in the room.

Footloose (not footsore) in Oxford TUES. JULY 20

   We did a walking tour of Oxford today.  My blisters caused by walking miles in wet socks and shoes at the Open have healed enough that I hardly limped.  We stopped by the graveyard where several of the Inklings, including Charles Williams, are buried—as well as Kenneth Grahame (The Wind in the Willows).  Kim, one of the program leaders who has spent every summer at the Kilns since 1993 and oversaw much of the restoration, has an encyclopedic knowledge of the places and moments in CS Lewis' life, and we paused several times to read excerpts from Surprised by Joy that pertained to where we were.  The greatest impact was Magdalen (pronounced Mawdlen) College and its grounds and deer park…  As we walked down Addison's Walk, Kim read from SBJ the account Lewis wrote about doing the same one evening with Tolkien and another friend, where they shredded the remaining arguments he had against the Christian faith.  A couple of days later he would become a believer, while making a trip in the sidecar of Warnie's motorcycle (no comment about what kind of driver Warnie was).
   One of the few memorials to Lewis at Magdalen is a simple plaque on the gate of the deer park along Addison's walk with one of his poems on it:

What the Bird Said Early in the Year


I heard in Addison’s Walk a bird sing clear:
This year the summer will come true. This year. This year.
Winds will not strip the blossom from the apple trees
This year nor want of rain destroy the peas.
This year time’s nature will no more defeat you.
Nor all the promised moments in their passing cheat you.
This time they will not lead you round and back
To Autumn, one year older, by the well worn track.
This year, this year, as all these flowers foretell,
We shall escape the circle and undo the spell.
Often deceived, yet open once again your heart,
Quick, quick, quick, quick! – the gates are drawn apart.

It is a deeply calming place, with swans and deer and rabbits and the occasional punt floating by…

The Kilns and Pub Life MON. JULY 19

    In 1929 CS Lewis father—whom he had not been close to since he was shipped off to boarding school at age 9—died, and left the 2 Lewis brothers enough money to think about buying a house.  Since Lewis was also caring for Mrs. Moore, the mother of a friend killed in WWI, she also contributed about 40% of the purchase price, with 'Jack' (the nickname Clive Staples Lewis had given himself as a boy) and Warnie each contributing 30%.  With the crashing market of 1929, they were able to purchase a house on the site of an old brickyard that came with about 20 acres of land, including several ponds which had once been clay pits and a part of the highest hill in the area, known as Shotover Hill.  At the top of Shotover a little beyond their property ran the old Roman and Medieval road from Bath to London, traversed by kings, queens, and armies.  In his 34 years at The Kilns Jack would plant a thousand trees on this property, and today most of it is the CS Lewis Nature Preserve.   After his brother died in 1963 Warnie subdivided the level part around the house and sold the lots to make ends meet, so the house itself now sits on a suburban cul-de-sac (which the English call a 'Close', the term the Scots use for the narrow lanes of Edinburgh).
   I am staying upstairs in  the room which belonged to Mrs. Moore for 18 years, and then became Jack's study.  While she lived there the door to his room next door was closed off, and he had to go down a set of outside stairs to get anywhere else in the house, including the WC.  When it became his study in the late 1940's and throughout the 1950's, Lewis did much of his writing there, looking out toward his woods and pond.  It is safe to say that much of the Narnia Chronicles were written in the room.  So far I am feeling much more inspired to read than to write ;) being here.
   Lewis spent much of his time outside of Magdalen College engaging friends and neighbors at local pubs.  We have been told that a pub is not just a bar, but rather more like a social club.  Many local parishes did not have fellowship halls, and pubs filled the gap.  Many are actually owned by breweries and only sell their lines of beers, ales, stouts, porters, and bitters; others are called 'free houses', independently owned and able to serve whatever they want.  Many are hundreds of years old and nearly unchanged.  An interesting—and fattening—part of our time here is that all of our lunches and half of our dinners are being eaten in various pubs, most of which were frequented by Lewis.  It would not be unusual for him to walk 45 minutes or an hour to reach a favorite pub and spend a lunch or an evening with good friends.  Over the years The Eagle and Child (fondly called The Bird and Baby) has gotten most of the attention because that is where the Inklings met weekly, but it was by no means his favorite.   Pictures are (above) a view of the Kilns when Lewis bought it in 1929 (with some actual kilns still standing),  the house today as seen from the street put in after his death (the smaller photo), one of his favorite pubs, the Perch, that lies by the river (its the Thames but in Oxford they call it the Isis) with its thatched roof, and what I had to drink there (think Dr. Pepper on steroids, then squared).

Water closets all around SUN. JULY 18

   My hotel last night was not a great experience.  It was well reviewed on TripAdvisor, but I think the reviewers were small people.  The room was a "single", which hereabouts means "smaller than a twin" .  The bed was 30 inches wide (an American twin is 36) and the room was double that width.  The bathroom was a one-piece modular thing the size of an airplane restroom.  No, I mean really!   Except that they crammed a shower in there…  I am above average through the chest and shoulders--25 inches across at the elbows if sitting flat against a chair or standing back flat to a wall.  As I mentioned, the bed was 30 inches across.  Most economy airline seats are 18-19 inches, some less and very few larger than that.
The shower in this bathroom was square on 3 sides and bowed at the open side, where the curtain hung.  It was 30 inches long and 18 inches at the widest part of the bow.  If I stood lengthwise with a shoulder toward the nozzle, I could fit but not move…  I don' t think any average or larger man could use it.  Considering it was by far and away the most expensive room of any of my trips this year (which have included some pretty nice rooms) I was, uhm, disappointed?
Arriving at The Kilns this afternoon I discovered that here we have a traditional water closet, which contains only a toilet.  There is another old one (Lewis's personal WC) that also has a sink, and 2 newer ones the same but they are in parts of the house where I won't be using them.  There is also a traditional bath-room… that is a room with a bathtub and sink, and another recent addition of a small shower in a room of its own.  Lewis would have used the bath, of course.
  Tonight we went to Evensong at the local parish church, which Lewis considered to be his church and attended faithfully.  He is buried in the churchyard—a beautiful place with a touch of wild—along with his brother Warnie, whom he also referred to as "his best friend".  One window in the church now has scenes from Narnia cut in it.
The pictures are (above) the hotel shower (notice a normal bath towel almost fills it) and below, the grave and the church from the grave.

***update #1-  I think they left the ham and cheese of the free hotel continental breakfast out too long.  Nasty things are happening…
***update#2-  I was running late when I left the hotel (they have an early check-out and I left a bag of socks and my US Open hat behind… when I called them this afternoon, they insisted they had not found anything.  But as I left the room I snapped a picture to show the size, and I can see the bag sitting on the bed!

Sittin' in a railway station, got a ticket for my destination woo-oo SAT. JULY 17

St. Andrews actually no longer has a train station, so everyone has to bus 8 miles to Leuchars, where I am currently the sole inhabitant of the waiting room… oops, a train just stopped and a gaggle have queued up for the "toilet".
 The fact that I am here and it is only 12:09 (noonish) on Saturday occasions some sadness:  Loren missed the cut.    Yesterday was a very strange day at The Old Course…  There was rain in the morning but no wind, and the players who went early enough to finish by 11:45 AM put together some good scores.  By 10 am or so the rain stopped, the sun came out, and the greens were soft and welcoming.  At 11:45 AM as I was waiting for Loren to tee off the rain started again, and by the time he took his first swing at 11:55 am there was a full gale blowing as well.  The rain continued only long enough to soak everyone not wearing a full body poncho, and a few umbrellas met untimely ends in the wind.   But after the rain the wind continued stronger and stronger.   By the 8th hole it was moving the ball as he putted, and when he reached the 10th hole play was suspended for almost 90 minutes because the wind was blowing balls off the greens! 
  A bright spot was that Chris Jones (see post for May) made it in for the day—he is in a summer program in Cambridge and some of his classmates were coming, so he came, too.  Anyway, my host Dave's family fly back today, so I am heading out.  I will miss the crush tomorrow and instead of a 1.5 hour long train ride to Edinburgh, then 5 hours to London, 30 minutes in the Underground, and another 1.5 hour train ride to Oxford and 30 minutes on a bus (all of which would require leaving about 5 AM in order to arrive on time) I will break up the trip and stay in London tonight.  Unfortunately could not get the cheap room in university housing on this short of notice…
   After the golf on Thursday I walked down to the ruins of the St. Andrews Castle and cathedral.  The castle was the place where John Knox started the first Protestant congregation in Scotland—the roots of the Presbyterian strand of faith—while the castle was under siege by royal forces and their French allies.  It eventually fell and Knox and his congregation were mostly sent as slaves to row in French navy galleys, after which he managed to make his way to Geneva and John Calvin.  Upon returning his preaching sometimes provoked his congregations into destructive acts, one of which was the destruction of the interior of St. Andrews Cathedral, then the largest building in Scotland.  The exterior then fell into ruin in a few decades.  The photos are of the cathedral ruins castle...

Mass Posts... July 17-28

I have been unable to post the last 11 days but have been writing, so I am now putting them up as fast as I can edit, format, and add pictures...  Thanks for your patience.  I'll put the actual date of writing in the titles.