Monday, 28th September
It was not until about 11.30 that we managed to get going. We needed to buy a few things in town for lunch, and on the way back took a short detour down a path by the river. It's a very pretty spot, especially so, on a bright, sunny late September morning.
It was not until about 11.30 that we managed to get going. We needed to buy a few things in town for lunch, and on the way back took a short detour down a path by the river. It's a very pretty spot, especially so, on a bright, sunny late September morning.
Rather than go straight along the main road to Didcot to pick-up a fast road to the M3, we wandered across country on B roads through the Thames Valley, skirting the Oxfordshire Berkshire border near Goring. This stretch of river, where the Thames cuts through the chalk uplands of the Chilterns is breathtakingly beautiful. You sense the continuity of human settlement over millennia. The landscape may be ancient, but it is humane. Quirky late Victorian villas line the riverbank and steep, amber roofed Arts and Craft 'cottages' peek out from the wooded slopes. The area has a particular resonance for us. In September 1978, just after we were married, we rented a banana yellow Citroen 2Cv6 and set off with the Shell Guidebook of English Villages to explore the foreign country of Southern England, unfamiliar to two kids from the North. We spent a few days around the Chilterns staying in Henley, and finally a night at a remote rural pub near Fingest. Today, the golden autumn light filtering through the tall trees reminded me of our first days together as a married couple, it's simply uncanny, it was 37 years ago.
Such romantic notions were instantly eradicated by the realities of dealing with aggressive driving on the roundabouts on the outskirts of Reading. Soon we were trundling along in the slow lane of the motorway; two hours of tedium later we pulled into the New Dover Road aire on the southern outskirts of Canterbury, grabbed a quick coffee then hopped on the free bus onto the city centre.
Which is my favourite English City? Without a doubt it's Bristol, I love its contradictions, posh and gritty, cultured and populist, old, yet aggressively modern; it has a silvery, lacrustine light, the cry of gulls mixes with the wail of police sirens. It is a place that intrigues the visitor through ambiguity.
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| Canterbury New Dover Road Park and Ride - dedicated spot for overnight stay, common in Europe, rare in the UK |
If I had to choose a second favourite smaller English city, then it would be Canterbury, for precisely the opposite reasons to Bristol
Canterbury charms through a sense of continuity and unity. Apart from an area of re-development around the bus-station where department stores and fast food outlets predominate, the city centre must contain the greatest concentration of vernacular buildings set within a historical street plan as anywhere in the country. Chester and York may have more spectacular examples of medieval buildings, but Canterbury has acres of them.
Every time we visit we discover another intriguing nook to explore. This time it was a small riverside walk that twists and turns along the banks of the Great Stour, from Kingsmead Road to the area around the Marlowe Theatre. Even though it was rush hour, this little park was peaceful, with drooping red leaved trees reflected in the bright blue water.
By contrast the streets were lively. It's the first week back for students from Canterbury's two Universities. All the clothes shops had sales notices to tempt freshers newly flush with a student loan. Gill added a bit of grey-pound into the melee and bought a tee-shirt from H&M.
Canterbury charms through a sense of continuity and unity. Apart from an area of re-development around the bus-station where department stores and fast food outlets predominate, the city centre must contain the greatest concentration of vernacular buildings set within a historical street plan as anywhere in the country. Chester and York may have more spectacular examples of medieval buildings, but Canterbury has acres of them.
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Every time we visit we discover another intriguing nook to explore. This time it was a small riverside walk that twists and turns along the banks of the Great Stour, from Kingsmead Road to the area around the Marlowe Theatre. Even though it was rush hour, this little park was peaceful, with drooping red leaved trees reflected in the bright blue water.
By contrast the streets were lively. It's the first week back for students from Canterbury's two Universities. All the clothes shops had sales notices to tempt freshers newly flush with a student loan. Gill added a bit of grey-pound into the melee and bought a tee-shirt from H&M.
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| There must be some reason why there in a sculpture of a lamb outside Fenwicks... |
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| Kids playing ball in the street - a rare sight these days |
As evening fell a chilly breeze blew up. We were still dressed in Indian summer garb of shorts and sandals, so we scurried back to the bus and back to Maisy.
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