Girl’s Day Out

Aside

Margaret had planned an outing as a late birthday treat for me so I had the seat of honour in the car – next to the driver. I tried to persuade Joy to take my place, to rest her achy knee but she wouldn’t hear of it. We took a lane to the right near the Tropiquaria and then I just gave myself up to the delights of the banks of wild primroses and our lovely countryside bathed in rare sunshine which lasted all day.

After a while we came to the Mineral Line and Margaret pointed out the Wheel house. People used to get a lift down to Watchet. The line was started in 1855 and ore was sent to Ebbw Vale iron works in south Wales. In 1898 the railway closed and it was last used in 1914. We saw the chapel that was built for the miners.

Maybe I have got ahead of myself but we had coffee near Kilve Abbey and watched two gorgeous Shire horses galloping round the field. Of course as soon as I got my camera out, they stuck their heads in the grass and presented their bums. Margaret, as usual, boldly went down all the narrow lanes so I’m not sure how we eventually got on a road to Upton. We talked about our various spouses/ spice and compared notes

Margaret’s husband with two frozen shoulders has found relief with a cortisone injection, MTL is stabilised and Joy’s husband seems improved since having his carotid artery (in the neck) scraped. After a mini stroke it can help prevent a further one, if the arteries are clogged.

Another diversion down a very narrow lane took us to a tower which turned out to be the remains of an old church and grave yard. We wandered round the grave yard and felt a sort of Black Death feel. Eventually we came to an Inn which was new to us – plain outside – warm and welcoming inside. I bought the drinks as is the wont of the birthday girl and was treated to a lovely, chatty lunch. It would be interesting to have our blood pressure tested before and after our jaunts and - ten pound to a penny - they would all be way down afterwards.

On the drive Margaret had recounted an interesting story where the lady of the manor had died young. She wasn’t sure where the manor house was but remembered St Decuman’s Church near Watchet was involved so we went there and discovered the true story.

The house was Kentsford, just down the lane from the church. John Wyndham lived there with his young wife Florence whose maiden name was Wadham; her brother founded Wadham College, Oxford. It was hoped that Florence would bear sons and carry on the Wyndham name. In 1559 she was taken desperately ill, went into a coma and the local physician pronounced her dead. She was put in the family vault in the church and the sexton noticed she was still wearing her gold wedding ring.

At dead of night he stealthily opened the heavy church door and with the light from a lantern made his way to Florence’s coffin. When he found it impossible to wrest the ring from her finger he attempted to cut off her finger with his knife. The blood started to flow, her arm started to move, she opened her eyes and cried out.

The shock had roused her from what had been a state of catalepsy. The sexton dropped the lantern and fled in terror. Florence arose, picked up the lantern and, still clad in her flimsy shroud went down Snailholt Lane, across the fields to her home and then had to persuade her grieving husband that she was not a ghost. Happily, soon afterwards she gave birth to a son John.

We walked down the lane as far as the Holy Well and I baptised the girls and Margaret did the same for me. So we should be safe for a while. See pics below.

Today the family are taking us out to lunch – guess where? And I can tell young James the story – because it has a happy ending.