Showing posts with label Benthall Hall. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Benthall Hall. Show all posts

Tuesday, 26 July 2022

The happy highways where we went

Hello, and welcome back to my travelogue, which I'm now ready to resume after the brief heatwave interruption. 

By now, we've arrived at its fourth installment, in which I'll tell you all about our adventures on the Wednesday of our first holiday week. A glimpse at the calendar tells me that this was the 22nd of June which - eek! - is now well over a month ago.

I guess I'l need to get my skates on to finish the series before it all becomes a distant memory. Although the saying goes that a picture is worth a thousand words, I'm still glad of the notebook into which I diligently scribbled a page or two of actual words at the end of each day!



Another glorious Summer's day had been forecasted, with lots of sunshine and highs surpassing the previous day's mid-twenties. Indeed, there was hardly a cloud to be spied in the sky when, after a 45 minute drive, we parked our car in a shady spot in the perfect little Shropshire town of Much Wenlock.

The town, whose history dates back to 680 AD, and which lies at the Eastern edge of the wooded limestone escarpment of Wenlock Edge, had been on our must-see list since we first travelled to Shropshire in 2018. 

It's a miniature town filled with half-timbered, black-and-white buildings, of which the four and a half centuries old Tudor Guildhall (above) must be one of the finest. Passing under the arch to the right of the building, above which a cheerful hanging basket had been suspended (above, bottom right), takes you to some tranquil gardens and the aptly named Church Walk leading to the town's parish church.



The church, which is dedicated to the Holy Trinity, dates back to around 1200 and encompasses many time periods as it went through restorations. During one phase the remains of three unidentified people were discovered. It is said that they can sometimes be seen in the churchyard as ghostly shadows with their heads hung down. Phew, I'm so glad I didn't know that at the time of our visit, although I rather doubt they would have been around in broad daylight!

In fact, our visit to the church was fairly brief, as there seemed to be a small service taking place which we didn't want to intrude on. We only just had the time to spot the memorial to Doctor William Penny Brookes (1809-1895), who put Much Wenlock on the map for founding the Wenlock Olympian Games, and thus inspiring the modern Olympics!



With the sun climbing ever higher, we mooched around the streets of the little town, my camera's shutter clicking whenever we came across any interesting or quirky details.

I've got a soft spot for old-fashioned cast iron road signs, which speak of a bygone age of motoring, when family road trips were a popular Sunday pastime and motorways few and far between.




On the top left is the Old Police Station, dating from 1864. It is made of special blue bricks,
believed to have been made in nearby Broseley.  My eye was caught by the small iron plaque to the right of its doorway (bottom left).

We came across a row of almshouses, their doors painted a bright blue. They probably date from around 1800 and the otherwise plain brick houses stand out by the Gothic double-curved ogee arches above their windows and doors, which were a thing at the time.

An eye-catcher on the High Street is the timber framed Elizabethan building, constructed in 1682 and called Raynald’s Mansion (bottom right). Late at night some say they've seen Victorian ghost children playing on the balconies!




Just a short stroll from the town centre, along a delightful lane lined with picturesque cottages covered in climbing roses and Clematis, are the dramatic ruins of Wenlock Priory, which are managed by English Heritage. 

Wenlock Priory has had a colourful history. An Anglo-Saxon monastery was founded here in about 680 by King Merewalh of Mercia, whose abbess daughter Milburga was hailed as a saint. Her relics were miraculously re-discovered here in 1101, attracting both pilgrims and prosperity to the priory.



In the 11th Century, French monks were brought to Wenlock, and it was re-founded as a priory subject to the Abbey of Cluny in Burgundy. 

There are many tales of great wealth amassed by corrupt abbots and connections with several kings and queens.



Evidence remains in the beautiful, evocative and extensive ruins, of one of the largest monastic churches in the country, as well as some of the most elaborate stone carving to be found anywhere.

The best preserved part of the monastic church is the south transept (above), which was part of a new church and was probably constructed during the 1230s. Jos's diminutive figure is giving a perfect indication of the sheer size of the place.




The glaring midday sun wasn't very conductive to taking great photos, so we mostly limited ourselves to shady nooks and crannies. 



Again, it was the cool and shady south transept we made for to make some quick outfit photos.

I was wearing a grey and white striped seersucker skirt I charity shopped back in April, combined with two other charity shop finds: the yellow cap-sleeved top sprigged with blue and white flowers, which I found in May, and the haori style cover-up - last seen the day before at Wightwick Manor - which my blog tells me was found in June 2019.



Both my necklace, ring and belt were bought on the high street at one time or another, while my Clarks Cloudsteppers, which surely do not need further introduction, were a sales bargain bought in Aberystwyth in June 2017.

Our faintly rumbling stomachs made us look at our watches and notice that it was well past midday by now. We made our way back to the town centre and after traipsing up and down the High Street in search of a place to eat, we settled for a café on the square. Our lunch consisted of toasted sandwiches with ham and cheese (which we'd call Croque Monsieur back in Belgium), accompanied by coleslaw, a salad and a handful of crisps!


Before hopping into our car and driving to our next destination, we decided to check out Memories Antiques & Collectables, which we'd spotted earlier on Wilmore Street.

Entering the shop was a bit of a hazard and felt quite claustrophobic. As it was filled to the brim with porcelain, china and glassware, we felt almost literally like the proverbial bulls in a china shop!



Jos had already beaten a hasty yet careful retreat and I was about to follow suit when I spotted the guide book to the 1951 Festival of Britain South Bank Exhibition, priced at £ 7. Even a non-collector of Festival of Britain memorabilia like me realized that this must a good price, something which was later confirmed by a quick trawl on the Internet.



We already visited our final stop of the day, Benthall Hall, in June 2019, but being just 5 minutes up the road from Much Wenlock, we thought it well worth a repeat visit. Besides, we did need to get our money's worth on our National Trust Touring Pass, didn't we? And speaking of the latter, it was quite the novelty for the student manning the ticket booth in the car park. After taking note of our pass's details, he assured us that parking was free, even though we were certain this was only the case for regular members.

Same as three years ago, we were utterly charmed by the view across the miniature wildflower meadow of the quaint little church of St. Bartholomew’s which greets you once you've passed through the lychgate.



Inside, we were met by the result of an incident which took place over Easter, when part of the plaster ceiling came down. 

After a whirlwind visit to the church, we proceeded towards the house, 

The current stone house, with its mullioned and transomed windows, was built in 1535 but there have been Benthalls living on this site since medieval times. 

The family sold the house in 1844, but then bought it back several generations later, before passing it to the National Trust on condition that the family continue to live here. 




The house is still tenanted by the Benthall family today, which is why, although both the ground floor and the second floor can be visited, photography is only allowed downstairs.

Here, a carved oak staircase, decorated plaster ceilings and oak panelling awaits you. 



Some of the house's treasures include the figurine - which incredibly is made of beeswax - under its glass dome. It was all I could do not to surreptitiously lift the dome and put the beeswax lady back in its proper place in the centre of the dome's base!



The figurine is standing on top of the chest on the bottom right. Dating from between 1660 and 1690, it is made of oak, bone, mother of pearl, snakewood, rosewood and sycamore.

On the top right is the metal escutcheon plate belonging to a walnut cabinet dating from around 1700-1730. Note how the plate is engraved with a landscape. 

I loved the design and colours of the bowl on the bottom left, but forgot to note its details, nor could I find it in the online collection. 



By the time we'd finished our tour of the house, we were gasping for a drink. Back in 2019, we'd had cream teas while sitting out in the courtyard at the back of the house, which we were now very much looking forward to. Imagine our disappointment when we were informed by one of the volunteers that the tearooms were closed. Judging from my face, I was none too pleased!

Before embarking on our journey home, we sat down and admired the formal garden, which wasn't looking nearly as unkempt as it was on our last visit. At the time, it had been given a deliberately overgrown appearance due to filming which would take place that Summer.  Apparently, the garden featured in the Netflix film Enola Holmes. You can catch the briefest of glimpses of the house and garden in the trailer.


Wednesday, 17 July 2019

Under the iron bridge we kissed

It was a rain-drenched landscape that greeted us on the Tuesday morning of our first week, and the rain wasn't showing any signs of a let-up while we were having breakfast. So, we moped around the cottage, anxiously watching the skies from all windows and hoping for a gap in the clouds.

We'd decided to go charity shopping in Shrewsbury, but the rain was quite torrential, so that there was nothing for it but to wait it out. When by 10.30 there was a brief lull in the downpour, we grabbed our coats and made a dash for the car.

The quiet country lanes had become quite treacherous to negotiate, especially where at one point the road climbs up to a plateau, which normally offers fabulous views of the rocky outcrops of the Stiperstones ridge. Now, low hanging clouds had wiped out any visibility and, after descending from these lofty heights, we even had to contend with a partially flooded road.


No, your eyes aren't deceiving you! As a nod to the atrocious weather conditions, I was wearing trousers. Again!

This is one of a pair (the other one's red) which I bought from an outlet shop a couple of years back.
They are my travelling trousers to be worn on bad weather days, just like this one. In order to keep them "me", I wore them with a vintage long-sleeved flower print shirt and my dotty Phase Eight raincoat charity shopped in Shropshire last year.


Mercifully, it had ceased raining the minute we stepped out of our car at the Park & Ride car park.

We always try and make use of the Park & Ride system when visiting larger towns, in order to avoid having to negotiate the often complicated one-way systems in search of a suitable place to park. In this case, we were especially glad that we did, as there seemed to be major roadworks in progress.


It was lunchtime by now, so we grabbed a quick bite to eat at the M&S café, as Jos wanted to buy some essentials at the shop.

Afterwards, we trawled the charity shops, most of which seemed to be concentrated in and around a street called Mardol. We also spent some time browsing a treasure trove of a shop called Memory Lane Antiques and Vintage.


As for the weather, I'm glad to report that it remained dry for the rest of the afternoon. We were even treated to some watery sunshine!

In order to make up for the weather, the charity shop and vintage gods treated us to kindly, as I found a pair of pristine navy Hotter shoes, a Welsh wool purse, a butterfly sleeve top and an Indian made maxi skirt. Jos was in luck too, as he found a boxed Kodak Bantam camera, complete with its instruction leaflet.


No sunshine, not even of the watery kind, on Wednesday, but we counted our blessings as at least the rain seemed to have packed up and left us. Admittedly, it was a bit chilly, with highs of only about 16° Celsius.

But wait, I can hear you thinking, what about that iron bridge you kissed under? Some of you might have recognized the title as a snippet of the lyrics of a certain Smiths song, but what's the link to this post, you might wonder.

Well, our destination of the day was a place called Ironbridge, and the song just inadvertently keeps popping into my head whenever I hear or see the name.



Ironbridge is a small town on the River Severn, at the heart of the Ironbridge Gorge. The town developed beside and took its name from the Iron Bridge, a 30-meter cast iron bridge which spans the gorge and was opened in 1781.

As early as 1934 it was designated a Scheduled Ancient Momument and closed to vehicular traffic. Tolls for pedestrians were collected until 1950, and it was at the old tollhouse that our journey across the bridge started.


Now is as good a time as any to show you what I was wearing. In order to combat the greyness of the weather, one of my Diolen delights, in a dusky pink sprinkled with an orange, yellow and green flower print, came out to play. On top, my orange leather jacket, an adequate and welcome protection against the chilliness of the wind.


The bridge, the first major bridge in the world to be made of cast iron, is a Grade I listed building and together with the Ironbridge Gorge it forms a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The area around Ironbridge is often described as the "birthplace of the industrial revolution", owing to the fact that in the nearby village of Coalbrookdale, a certain Abraham Darby perfected the technique of smelting iron with coke, allowing for a much cheaper production of iron.


To this day, the Bridge remains an important symbol of the dawn of the industrial age.

In 2017 and 2018, English Heritage undertook a £ 3.6 million conservation project on the bridge, restoring it to its formal glory.  

The Ironbridge Gorge is home to several interesting museums, which we have yet to visit. On a rainy day perhaps?


We'd brought a picnic which we ate in our car, before undertaking the 10-minute drive to our next destination.

There's a scenic but streneous walk from here to Ironbridge and back, descending into the gorge and then climbing out of it again by way of a series of wooden steps, but we decided to give it a miss, and just visit the delightful National Trust property called Benthall Hall.


Entrance is through a lychgate, and past the quaint little church of St Bartholomew’s, which has recently been acquired by the National Trust. 

I found the approach to the church, by way of a path leading through what looked like a miniature wildflower meadow, particularly charming.


The current house was built in 1535 but there have been Benthalls living on this site since the medieval period. The house is still tenanted by the Benthall family today.

The family sold the house in 1844, but then bought it back several generations later, before passing it to the National Trust on condition that the family continue to live here.


The interior is stunning, with a carved oak staircase, decorated plaster ceilings and oak panelling, but photography was only partially allowed.

The cabinet on the top left is a so-called Antwerp cabinet. The room's volunteer proudly told us its story, especially after hearing that we lived near Antwerp. The cabinet dates from the 17th century and is quite rare. It was converted in the Victorian period, when drawers were put in to display a collection of butterflies and moths. 

We were astonished to learn that the figurine under its glass dome on the bottom left was made from beeswax!


The gardens accomodate a kitchen garden and a carefully restored and terraced plantsman's garden, including a rockery and rose garden.

The formal garden's exhuberantly overgrown appearance was due to filming which would take place during Summer, but we actually rather liked it that way!


There's a wild garden too, which was a delight to stroll through, with a working beehive set amongs the grasses and wildflowers, which included the most exquisite Turk's Cap Lilies, and glimpses of an enchanting but unreachable thatched summer house.


We concluded our visit by having the first cream teas - the full works, consisting of scones with jam and clotted cream - of our holiday which, being us, we had with coffee instead of tea. 

Sitting outside in the secluded tea room garden on this gloomy and chilly afternoon, we were sending up prayers to the weather gods for slightly warmer temperatures.

Do join me again in the next episode to find out whether our prayers were answered.