Bartimaeus

After the garden tour we explored the house at our own pace. There was some information in a returnable sheet, but also volunteers. We had been invited to ask them difficult questions.   

The long chunky table in the entrance hall was used for dinner parties but had originally been part of the servants' hall - solid and well used piece, dating from the 16th century. Also in the hall were portraits of previous owners, but unusually also some paintings of servants, a gamekeeper and a young boy.

Changes were made over the years by different owners, but apart from that table, most of the furnishings were from more recent years. The most recent owner has no children and handed it to the National Trust but had travelled extensively and the decor reflected this. A country hall isn't usually decorated with capybara, carved African stools and games so while interesting they looked out of place.

In addition to the family rooms there was a modern art collection, and an exhibition of fans. I preferred the fans to the modern art but each to their own, and I liked the less abstract pink display and the model of a piece we had seen out in the garden, full size. It was visible in the distance through the window, a work by Anthony Twentyman.

It was rather unexpected to have all the modern art in such an ancient building. It had been a passion of the previous resident, but not of his wife, who said the modern sculptures could go in the garden but not where they were visible from the window. There are a dozen dotted around, carefully beyond a tree or hedge or well to the side of the house, a good compromise.

The fan collection was more personal and, at some time, functional, as well as fashionable objects for the ladies of the house. The collection had ones with ivory, silk, wood, painted paper and ostrich feathers.

As we were finding our way out a last museum room showed objects through the ages, a Latin document on vellum, a hunting gun, a tricycle and my personal favourite: boot warmers. I had thought they were to make boots kept in a cold porch preheated before wearing on a winter day, but in fact they were for drying out boots that had been worn by warming from the inside with a metal foot filled with hot water, a woollen cover helped absorb the moisture. It sounds great, yet in all the museums and antique shops where I have seen countless warming pans; ceramic hot water bottles; shoes and boots; boot or shoe stretchers; cobbler's lasts and shoe shapers,  I have never seen a boot warmer.

As we left, the man at the reception said he had been admiring our machine. We had asked if there was official bike parking and they said no, but had offered that we could take it inside, but we were happy to leave it outside, locked and with the saddles covered. We saw by the reception there was a small rack for children's bikes that visiting children could borrow. I remarked that it seemed they did have bike parking after all and he said ours would have looked a little out of place there.

On the way home we stopped for me to to admire a tree, or more surprisingly it was two trees, that Shane had pointed out to me.

Later I asked him to stop again while I went to see if there was any explanation for peculiarly placed clock by a field. There was no helpful notice, it wasn't a museum exhibit, just something odd I'd clocked by a field. It was telling the right time.

We stayed put for a couple of days, partly because we were riding out the rain and partly to sit in the sun. The first night there I had been sure I had seen a mink swimming across the canal. I checked the book Bryn and Nye had given me. When I approached a fisherman to admire his roach, a day or two later, we chatted about the canal wildlife and he said there were definitely mink here.

We went for an evening walk and passed the two large by-washes beside the locks. On this canal, there are a few attractive circular walled ones, but this one nearby was an odd irregular shape. They were certainly rushing more after the rain. 

Today we set off. It was forecast to be a brighter day. I was driving while Shane prepared the lock. To my surprise he asked me to slow down as I entered the lock and then climbed in to the bow well. He explained there was a toad in the lock and he didn't want it squashed. It was on the lock ladder but not climbing very successfully.

I climbed on the roof to get a look. Shane was keen to try and help it get out of the lock. It started to swim along the length of the boat, in the narrow channel of about 4 inches between the hull and the wall. He tried encouraging it towards the gate with the barge pole, but instead it dived down underwater. We waited for it to reappear, but never saw it again and we just had to work the lock hoping it was unharmed. Once we had risen I went to look by the ladder and saw a shape but it wasn't a toad it was a very large moth. It had tattered wings. This was the loveliest lock ladder I had seen in a while. I knelt and hung my phone down in the lock to get a picture, an odd angle and I couldn't see the screen. 

We had noticed during an evening stroll, an unusually decorated boat and today, when were travelling, we saw it again, in better light. The boat is very smart but apart from the very large Lest We Forget display on the stern, complete with eternal flame, the theme of the side was less boat and water themed and more sledge and snow and with particular detail for the huskies. 

We moored up ourselves at lunch time, in a good space for sunshine. But by evening there were dark clouds but when we saw a man on the towpath taking pictures, we popped out to see the colourful combination of sunset, rainbows and rainclouds. Thunder and lightening followed.