Today's post is very short, and will be extended when I wake up EARLY (ie. 6:30... 6:15???) tomorrow. Right now I'm just waiting for my vlog to finish exporting from Premiere Pro, and then moi, I am heading to bed! We are staying at a Holiday Inn Express - and I'm not sure what the "express" part stands for. I have a very sweet little desk positioned at just the right height for me to write on my laptop, and maybe I will utilise it for writing for tomorrow's blog, because when I continue this blog, I hope to be sitting somewhere in the early morning sunshine. I am in Bristol, in case you missed the title. And we visited Lacock Abbey - the famous home of William Henry Fox Talbot, "Britain's inventor of photography" as he is diplomatically recognised. It is magnificent, and I will tell you why when I wake up tomorrow. I had a mocha in the tea garden there, and then we moved on to Bristol, where I settled in, explored a little bit, and then walked with everyone to Pizza Express for a fantastic supper which Yale paid for!
That's all for now; watch the vlog if you're feeling impatient.
UPDATE:
7.50 am
Bristol
Holiday Inn Express breakfast time
I feel a little bit bad, because there are SO many people down here and not much place to sit, and I'm taking up a whole table. They keep coming! I though this would be a good time to come for breakfast, since the people who had to get to work at 8 would be gone already... but on second thoughts, maybe these are the people who have to get to work at 9. Hm. Anyway, yesterday!
We all woke up in time yesterday, but I realised, with about 10 minutes until we were going to catch a bus to take us to the Paul Mellon Centre to get our coach, that I still needed to bye some sun block, since we were probably going to be walking around a lot in the sun. Just to clarify, this was at 8:30, and we actually only had to be at the PMC at 9:15, but we wanted to take a bus, and we didn't know how long that would take. I thought that the pharmacy just down the road would be the best bet, so I set of, walking first, and then breaking into a clippety-cloppety run, because I was wearing sandals.
The pharmacy was closed. It opened at 8:30, but I didn't have time for that so I had to decide where to try next. I knew there was a Tesco somewhere close-ish, but I wasn't sure, and rather than spend precious time on an uncertain destination, I went for the convenient, reliable Waitrose. It was probably not the best place to go, as there were only three types of sunblock, and it was probably quite expensive. But I succeeded in that department, and then bought some hot cross buns as well (why do they have them now?) for breakfast. I had successfully cleared my shelf in the fridge, either eating everything, or packing it for lunch on the bus ride. However, with my lunch consisting of five pieces of ham and three carrots, I thought I better spice it up with some starchy, bad-for-you treat, and hot cross buns looked the most appealing.
Eventually we all made it to the PMC with plenty of time to spare. At about 9:30 we boarded our personal coach! I was extremely excited, and probably drew some strange looks from the other people because of how visibly elated a bus made me. But it was a five-row coach/bus contraption, with two seats one side of the aisle and one on the other, the seats were a deep sea-green, the windows were darkened, and mossy curtains shaded the window like the soft and copious folds of an olden day lady's ball gown. Can you blame me for getting excited?
During the two hour bus ride I worked on my presentation for photography, distracted frequently by the glorious snaps of English countryside. I had never been in the English countryside before, but I had read so much about it in basically every single one of my favourite books that I had very high expectations for it, raised to such towering heights by the ubiquitous appreciation for it in everything from Wordsworth to Heyer. Ooh and my absolute favourite poem:
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
UPDATE:
7.50 am
Bristol
Holiday Inn Express breakfast time
I feel a little bit bad, because there are SO many people down here and not much place to sit, and I'm taking up a whole table. They keep coming! I though this would be a good time to come for breakfast, since the people who had to get to work at 8 would be gone already... but on second thoughts, maybe these are the people who have to get to work at 9. Hm. Anyway, yesterday!
We all woke up in time yesterday, but I realised, with about 10 minutes until we were going to catch a bus to take us to the Paul Mellon Centre to get our coach, that I still needed to bye some sun block, since we were probably going to be walking around a lot in the sun. Just to clarify, this was at 8:30, and we actually only had to be at the PMC at 9:15, but we wanted to take a bus, and we didn't know how long that would take. I thought that the pharmacy just down the road would be the best bet, so I set of, walking first, and then breaking into a clippety-cloppety run, because I was wearing sandals.
The pharmacy was closed. It opened at 8:30, but I didn't have time for that so I had to decide where to try next. I knew there was a Tesco somewhere close-ish, but I wasn't sure, and rather than spend precious time on an uncertain destination, I went for the convenient, reliable Waitrose. It was probably not the best place to go, as there were only three types of sunblock, and it was probably quite expensive. But I succeeded in that department, and then bought some hot cross buns as well (why do they have them now?) for breakfast. I had successfully cleared my shelf in the fridge, either eating everything, or packing it for lunch on the bus ride. However, with my lunch consisting of five pieces of ham and three carrots, I thought I better spice it up with some starchy, bad-for-you treat, and hot cross buns looked the most appealing.
Eventually we all made it to the PMC with plenty of time to spare. At about 9:30 we boarded our personal coach! I was extremely excited, and probably drew some strange looks from the other people because of how visibly elated a bus made me. But it was a five-row coach/bus contraption, with two seats one side of the aisle and one on the other, the seats were a deep sea-green, the windows were darkened, and mossy curtains shaded the window like the soft and copious folds of an olden day lady's ball gown. Can you blame me for getting excited?
During the two hour bus ride I worked on my presentation for photography, distracted frequently by the glorious snaps of English countryside. I had never been in the English countryside before, but I had read so much about it in basically every single one of my favourite books that I had very high expectations for it, raised to such towering heights by the ubiquitous appreciation for it in everything from Wordsworth to Heyer. Ooh and my absolute favourite poem:
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
By Christopher Marlow
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the Rocks,
Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow Rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing Madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of Roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty Lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and Ivy buds,
With Coral clasps and Amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
Calling all shepherds!
The English countryside did not disappoint. From golden haystacks polka-dotted about the verdant fields, to a smattering of milk-chocolate bovine beasts, (the fact that their milk is used for milk chocolate and they themselves look like milk chocolate must not pass unnoticed!) the fields were as beautiful as I'd pictured. In fact, they surpassed my imaginings because no amount of literature can convey the spirit of contentment that twirls across the horizon. The colours are more vivid than even the most Tintern Abbey-ean description can describe. Indeed, I felt as if I was watching the prima ballerina of nature in the middle of her favourite solo, draped in a floating cloud of shimmering organza, with delicately ribbon-trimmed flounces and a sparkling tiara entwined with rosebuds and full roses and dark green swirling ivy. The country side may appear a simple picturesque landscape, peaceful and unchanging like many another scene. But really it pirouettes from season to season, perfecting each step with every moment God adds to its existence, in constant motion which doesn't disturb the swells of the ocean of the world because it is the motion of time itself. I think that may be it" the English countryside feels eternal. It carries the weight of recorded history, and history before that, in every blade of grass, in every grain of soil, in every meadow-flower. Maybe that's why it feels so full, so saturated: every aspect of the land is full, purposeful, certain of its role in nature and in time, just like the ballerina who lives to dance is serene and the pinnacle of beauty even at the most intense and complicated moment of the dance, because it is at that moment that she becomes the dance. The countryside, who is far older than any ballerina, has learnt how to dance.
I love this place.
We alighted from the bus at Lacock Abbey and went into the photo museum almost straight away. Again, I almost wish that people didn't put so much effort into curating a display, and presenting it in a "family-friendly" way. I lose interest very quickly if every single exhibit is all "prettied" up. Yes, it is pretty, and yes for people who aren't particularly interested in what they're looking at, and need some embellishments to make them stay for longer than ten seconds, it does achieve its purpose. But at the same time, for people who really want to see THE ACTUAL OBJECT ON DISPLAY, all the colour and fancy effects detract from the purity of what is on display. There were plenty of old cameras, which were impressive, and seeing the original lattice window photo was amazing.
From the museum we went to Lacock Abbey itself, which was incredible. The National Trust really seems to have been able to retain the virtue of the building!
Right. It is time to leave for today's adventures: we are going to an archive warehouse(!!!!!!!)
I will continue alter this afternoon when it is supposed to be raining, because there is more to talk about.
From the museum we went to Lacock Abbey itself, which was incredible. The National Trust really seems to have been able to retain the virtue of the building!
Right. It is time to leave for today's adventures: we are going to an archive warehouse(!!!!!!!)
I will continue alter this afternoon when it is supposed to be raining, because there is more to talk about.
UPDATE TWO:
So yes, it is raining and I am sad because I can't go to a cafe because I'm full from lunch and I have to leave room for supper. Lacock Abbey. It was seriously impressive. Huge. Vast. Ornate. It was everything an abbey-converted-to-a-country-house should be.
From Lacock Abbey, we moved on to Bristol, which was not as gristly as the name might lead one to believe. I went exploring for a little bit, and was disappointed at first because there was a gorgeous old building I went to look at, which turned out to be a shell of a gorgeous old building, with some wretched modern offices inhabiting the inside. But then I spotted a church spire and found myself a wonderful church, which despite being closed still made a lovely picture!
So that was yesterday!
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