Thomas Harley is not Thomas Hardy

Berrington Hall from the ha-ha

We seem to have fallen into a time warp… five days have passed! After the pub we moved to… Berrington Hall built for Thomas Harley in 1778. NOT Thomas Hardy (who was born in 1840) as I thought the guide was telling me. Inside my head, not out loud, I said – how did he afford to build this house, wasn’t he a poor writer? No, Berrington Hall has nothing to do with Thomas Hardy. History is very interesting to me but also confusing sometimes. There’s so much of it and lots of things repeat over and over like wars, there’s also a lot of men with similar names. I struggle to keep the years and the names clear in my head.

There we are on the National Trust map

Thomas Harley was a member of the Harley family of whom Harley’s Street in London was named, they made their money from providing uniforms for the army, probably not poor then. He was a Lord Mayor of London and when he gave that up he retired to the country for some peace. It is very peaceful here. It’s in the middle of the countryside surrounded by fields, hundred year old trees, thousands of sheep and a lake. There’s a walled garden too and a laundry garden – where the servants laid out the washed bed linens on the grass to dry.

The Laundry Drying Garden

National Trust houses and gardens are run by volunteers. I didn’t understand this until now. It’s a very different system to the OPW in Ireland. It makes sense now why they charge to go in and also ask for donations, of money and books. They sell the donated second hand books to gather much needed extra finance to keep the houses open to the public. I bought a two week pass so I hope to be going to many more National Trust locations. I’m also going to check out their secondhand books. Also, it was Beatrix Potter (of Peter Rabbit fame) who set up the National Trust.

One of the neighbours

Today in Tesco we met a woman in the queue who was very friendly. She chatted to us about the queue and said “I must be bored I’m talking your head off.” So I asked her what she did when she wasn’t bored and she said she loved to read and she loved her garden and she told us about it. This might be one of those times when you had to be there to appreciate how nice this was. We have been noticing how friendly everybody is in Ireland and missing that. It is a much underrated (by me until now, anyway) experience to chat while waiting in a queue.

Interior of Berrington Hall

But I’m skipping ahead, there were five more days lost in the time warp… After Tomas Harley’s house we parked overnight in the trucks car park at the town of Upton on Severn. There was a very good supermarket, called Warners, next door and we stocked up on English pies. Afterwards we dined out at an Indian restaurant. The restaurant was located in an old low ceilinged house with beams and looked out on the narrow high street. It was while we were eating that I spotted a ginormous tractor and combine harvester holding up the traffic. By ginormous I mean the height of a two story house on this street. It reminded me of my childhood. In our town farm life got along with town life. Even though we lived on a street where there was plenty of through traffic going to Dublin or Cork, the cows still had to be milked. Twice a day the farmer (can’t remember his name, was it Mr. Roach?) who lived on this street walked his cows home for milking.

Man on the Severn at Upton-on-Severn

Summary: Thomas Harley is not Thomas Hardy. The countryside has always been very peaceful, unless you were a servant waiting for the linens to dry. Volunteering is alive and well in Britain. Tesco is a great place to meet new people. Farming is big here. Query: Do you have any hacks for remembering dates in history?

Don’t forget the time difference

The Panton Arms

We stayed in the car park of a pub in Pentraeth in lashing rain. It was an old pub, they did food and we could park the van overnight if we bought a meal and gave them £5 extra. We had left Dublin Port with sun shining on us just four hours previous but the rain was only temporary. Next morning the sun was back and I went off to the petrol station to buy stamps at the post office.

Right beside the gents toilet at Dublin Port there’s this handy guide to your duty free allowances between Ireland and Britain. The surprising thing is they’re different…

It’s only a few hours away but things are different here. First there’s the money and I don’t just mean that it’s pounds and not euros, the notes are not made of paper. They have a lovely matt springy feel, are very clean and they are see through! Then there’s the time, I know what you’re thinking… I didn’t think there was a time difference either but there is.

Can you see the grass through the £5?

At the petrol station the post office is on the same counter as the groceries but there’s a different cash register. I stood there for a few moments wondering what the procedure might be and then went ahead and asked the grocery cashier if I could buy stamps. He said he didn’t know what time it opened at and called to a lady stacking shelves… she said it opened at 9am.

King Charles is on my stamps

I was delighted, it was exactly 9am – how lucky am I? Unfortunately, the lady stacking shelves didn’t know the time so asked the grocery cashier who said it was five to nine and she replied, it won’t be open until nine and went back to shelf stacking. What? But… I sort of mumbled as I pointed to my phone but my heart wasn’t in it, I stood back to consider my life choices.

All is well

At exactly 9.05am a different customer approached the post office bit of the counter and purchased his stamps. I dashed up after him in case it closed again at 9.06.

My special cat purse for sterling money

Summary: there’s a 5 minute time difference between Ireland and Wales; the money is see through; you can bring 48 litres of beer with you but only 16 litres back. Query: Could anyone help? Neither of us know how to change the time on our phones by five minutes.

The Lighthouse

Calm seas, plenty sun but can you see the lighthouse?

And now we’re back in Ireland… probably. As I write we’re still on the ferry so I suppose I don’t know for certain that we are back… but it’s probable. It’s the morning after the calmest crossing we’ve ever had. I slept through the night for the first time and am as bright as a button.

Blue on blue and white and red

The sun is shining on the seas and we are floating towards the Irish Sea. I’ll go get a photo to show you…

Sparkles

By now you’ll have seen the photos! Hopefully they give some sense of what it was like out there. And the lighthouse! It’s the Tusksr Rock lighthouse. I thought we had three more hours on the ferry. We don’t, we’re in the Irish Sea, we’re nearly home!

Way way way in the distance…

Here again is another example of why I need to write to you… you make me go outside and look at what’s there! My friend Linda, yesterday when she realised the forecast was for lots of wind, gently suggested I take my coat and hat on board so I could go outside for a breath of fresh air (=to calm me down, she knows my anxiety.) Of course, what a good idea.

A bit closer

Do I need to tell you – I didn’t bring my coat and hat. There’s no way I’m going outside, I say to myself. But then when I started writing to you and I saw the sun shining on the waves, I thought I’ll just brave the freezing cold for a quick photo!

Almost warm

One photo later I realised it was not cold, it was positively, almost warm. And the breeze wasn’t bitter, it was very pleasant. I took another photo and another and that’s when I saw something in the distance. Another boat? A buoy? A lighthouse? The lighthouse!

And then it was back to driving on the other side of the road… (We have right hand drive, this picture was of a vintage American army jeep from the museum in Saint Mère Èglise)

A lighthouse to protect us from the rocks, from danger. A lighthouse to keep us safe and on the straight and narrow path home. I just met the Stena hostess who gave each of us muffins on our journey over. Do you remember her? She had to move Denis out of the dining room when it closed and she felt bad for moving him while he was working. She brought each of us a muffin to make it up to him at the time.

…where the roadsides are covered in daisies…

It struck me that she’s a kindness lighthouse, a kindness lighthouse reminds us of our naturally loving nature, our vibrant connection to others and our absolute necessity in the world. All of us are lighthouses when we do our own thing. Especially when we do it vulnerably, regardless of reward or shame.

…the coffees are ginormous and the skies are blue

I’ll be taking this home with me… Be you. Do you. Give up the shame. Notice the lighthouses. Sending love to you, lighthouse human xxx Mairéad

Calm Down

Map 2.1 France and the villages

On Tuesday we left La Flèche on the long drive to the department of Normandy and Saint Mère Èglise. The long drive was made longer by traffic diversions due to a new road or a bridge or something. Suffice to say our sat nav was at a loss to take us anywhere except narrow roads.

There’s a stop sign up ahead

Very lovely narrow roads with lots of wheat and barley growing in the fields either side. With tractors working in those fields. And sometimes a line of grass growing in the middle of the narrow road.

This road seems tilted to me

A road with grass growing down the middle is my definition of a road that is too narrow for Ruby but it is also a road that doesn’t get much traffic. Just as well because by the time we realised we were on said grassy road there were no options for turning back.

Pretty but we are taking up most of it…

We were very lucky, it was lunchtime and as we have found out the French are very strict regarding the time of meals and we met no one. Did not prevent my nervous system going on full alert as we approached every corner.

Waaaay too narrow

I do wonder if I’ll ever completely get rid of the anxiety. But do I want to get rid of it? In the moment it seems the most sane thing to be anxious about moving faster than walking speed down a – lets call it what it is – a farmers laneway when at any moment another vehicle could be travelling as fast or faster towards us. Surely, anxiety is the sanest response? Right?

Still too narrow but look at the three trees…

And yet, when I apply logic to my challenge, I do realise the danger from my habit of repeated self-dosing with adrenaline is probably more dangerous to me than the possibility of meeting a car on a country lane.

Much better…

And now here I am packing a bag for our night on the ferry. The road to the ferry is wide. What could I possibility be anxious about? The forecast. The forecast says there will be wind, in fact it’s already been blowing all day yesterday and again today.

Perfectly straight road off into the distance…

This would be a good time for me to download a book that cures anxiety automatically and without having to read it as I won’t be able to read if the ship is pitching…

On the river

This river is Le Loir not La Loire

As I write we are in the lovely little town of Saint Mere Eglise, Normandy. And would you believe they are having D-Day celebrations. The town is hopping with American soldiers (who will be dropping out of the sky in parachutes in the next few days.) We’ve never been here at this time of year and didn’t realise it was such a big occasion.

There’s a walkway around the campsite beside the river and it’s called Promenade Colette Cosnier. The sign says she wrote about women and the feminine condition

After our Friday night in the cave houses town of Turquant we left the Loire valley and drove to the Loir – no that’s not a typo – there really is a different river with almost the same name as the longest river in France with all the chateaux. We stayed in the campsite in the town of La Flèche where there’s a bridge over the smaller river, the Loir.

We found an Irish pub… with MURPHY’s but no food

The weather was hot with blue skies for two days and then hot with a lovely breeze for the third day. I was chasing shade around the motorhome but showering helped and the bugs were still not biting. Yaa! (By the way, thank you for all your suggestions re the mosquitoes, next time I will be well equipped. Also, that was a joke about not showering… just in case you were wondering)

Gorgeous Galette – duck, apple, walnuts and Camembert (Restaurant La Bisquine)

It was a holiday weekend in La Flèche (and the Uk and the USA) and that always makes it a little more tricky to line up nourishment options. This is due to the further tightening of the already tight time range of opening times for shops, restaurants and supermarkets.

The local cinema was showing the Irish language movie The Quiet Girl

But we have been adding to our Information about France basket and were able to supplement the enduring dried porridge with other possibilities. Plus there was a surprise – the baker had a spot at the campsite from 8am to 9am on Sunday morning! Again we have managed not to starve. Do I talk about food too much?

Getting creative with self care

The Cardinal and the Caves

Front gate to Richelieu

On Friday we also visited Richelieu on our way north. You may have heard of Cardinal Richelieu? From the Three Musketeers? He was also a real Cardinal and at the same time a politician. It all seems to have been a bit more complicated back then or maybe it was simple economics. In a nutshell his mother needed one of her sons to become a bishop. There was money promised to her husband from the king but it was in the church budget so she needed a bishop in the family to get at it.

There’s the big town square…

Richelieu’s older brother was already a priest but he was not keen on the plan and he became a monk instead. The younger Richelieu was keen and agreed to become a bishop for his mother. He studied what he needed to study and became a priest and then a bishop in 1607. The money was now safe.

…and a huge antiques shop opposite the church

Sometime in the 1630’s the Cardinal bought land (near his original home) where the town now stands and had the architect, who designed the Sorbonne, design a walled town on a grid.

…and a huge statue of the Cardinal

You might remember the town of Monpazier was also on a grid? But while Monpazier is beautiful Richelieu is tidy and neat. Kinda like it’s pretending to be old. Of course it is old but not old-old. (Have I become an old snob now?) There’s also a park and there was a big chateau but it’s gone. Oh and the bishop built a smaller chateau a few kilometers outside the town, for his mistress… as you do.

The town plan… on a grid

It was a hot day and we went in search of ice creams but it was not to be. The ice cream signs outside the cafe were just for decoration, not to be taken too seriously.

The white/cream stone is called Tufa, at Turquant

We travelled on until we found motorhome parking for the night on the banks of the Loire in a village called Turquant. The village is built into caves of Tufa stone. There are miles of tunnels in the caves and it’s possible to take a tour of the homes. We were still in travel mode so left early the next morning.

One of the houses built into the stone, Turquant

Driving through France

Through the arch in Saint Benoit du Sault

On Friday we left Saint Ybard. Our plan was to drive for hours and pick up a couple of beautiful villages on the way. We really lucked out in the Dordogne and Lot departments because there are lots of the beautiful villages there.

In the shade of an old tree

They’re a little more spread out in the rest of France. We checked the map and headed for Saint Benoit du Sault. Wandering around in the narrow streets is such an uplifting thing to do. Then it was lunch time so we found the boulangerie and bought some bread.

Tiny heart

Something we always have in the fridge is the ingredients for a French bread sandwich so lunch is always sorted. And if dinner becomes problematic we can have second lunch instead.

What time is it?

One of the things we had to let go when we started travelling like this was that we wouldn’t always have everything we need at hand. I suppose need is the concept we had to let go. In truth we need very little. Although we don’t always feel or act that way.

Cobblestone history

After lunch we set off again. Unlike our trip through France back in April on this return journey we were staying off the motorways. This can make me quite anxious as I’m sitting on the drivers side so every wide truck or van comes quite close to me. Sometimes too close for comfort.

Romeo, Romeo…

But I’ve been practicing my meditation and repeating my mantra and on Friday I was able to notice the countryside. And I noticed the sheaves of wheat waving in the breeze.

Isn’t this like a house in a fairytale?

Half of France is agricultural land. Imagine, half! I looked it up. (Then I looked up Ireland and it’s 64%.) Food is one thing we do need.

Relationship Advice

Fishing lake at Saint Ybard

It was time to move on and travel for a bit in the general direction of Ireland. Yes it’s nearly time to go home. We left the village of Martel and drove for a couple of hours to Saint Ybard. This is a very small village with a very pretty fishing lake and free motorhome parking. We stayed one overnight .

Beautiful shaded walk around the lake

Normally I wouldn’t be too happy staying near a still body of water due to the mosquitoes. You see they love me but their love is not reciprocated, in fact I would like to finish our painful relationship. So I’ve been taking mosquito relationship advice. Please wade in if you have an opinion, so far it’s just Denis and my mother in law, Eilish, who are counselling me.

There’s Ruby overlooking the lake

Denis says if you keep moving they won’t get a chance to bite. I walked quickly around the lake all day. Eilish said don’t wear perfume or deodorant. I kept downwind of other humans. And success… I was not bitten. But was that because there were no mosquitos? Or because they couldn’t catch me? Or because they didn’t like how I smell?

Evening at the lake

My sister has promised to bring back some Canadian anti-mosquito thick white cream stuff that works a treat over there where the mosquito are bigger… seemingly. In the meantime I’m afraid to slow down or apply deodorant. I’ve also stopped showering. Now I’m wondering if this is why the flies are following me…

Blending in to mislead the bugs

Villages 2

Rocamadour village from the top

Every village from the most beautiful list is different. Rocamadour makes you look up in awe and I suppose that was the intention. It’s a pilgrim site. On the door of one of the chapels in the cathedral it says, no visiting except for prayer.

Doggie Bag

Remembering that one of the reasons this list of villages was created was to allow the local population to stay locally by providing employment… I wonder are they happy with all the visitors? Do they ever want to close the gates?

A moment to notice what’s just over our heads

And do they get to enjoy just looking? When we arrive back in Ireland we see things we missed. The weather is very soft, so soft that sometimes it cries on your head. The fields are so green you want to photograph individual blades of grass. The castles are so raw you want to protect them from destruction.

This is the resting deer I could see way down in the valley

We found Martel when we were escaping the flies and didn’t realise it was on the list too. Unless you see the sign to announce this is one of the most beautiful villages you don’t know. It’s different because it’s not obvious. So every corner you turn, your eyes light up. There’s plenty of food for the eyes.

Tower house

Not so much food for the belly though. We were too late for lunch, too early for dinner, not in high season and nothing in the fridge.

That’s Denis leaning against a wall searching his phone for somewhere to eat

But it was just this situation that brought us to the small French tapas restaurant for our evening meal and to the supermarket for our coffee next morning. The surprise of ordinary when you were expecting more.

You can almost imagine walking along this street in the middle ages… except for the parked cars

And ordinary is surprisingly good. Theses villages are not perfect, they are just beautiful. Isn’t that enough, though?