Seven thousand lay dead on the bloody field. Harold, King of England, had taken an arrow through his eye. It was the year 1066. And you’re about to read a very long post.
But before we get to that — from the land of roundabouts, sheep, traffic diversions, castles, abbeys, narrow roads, lambs, clotted cream and two-word-names for pubs, I give you a synopsis of this weekend:
- Margot and Gordon Thrussell are delightful.
- Jim and I think it’s too bad that we live on different continents, but at least we’ll see each other again next February.
- No…this is my favorite castle! Dover Castle is in Dover, where the white cliffs are and where we could have seen France had the sky not been hazy.
- Dover is a seaport, where we could have taken a ferry and looked back at the white cliffs from France had we more weeks in these parts.
- Dover Castle is perched on a high bluff. We all achieved our step goals that day.
- After Dover, we six drove to Folkestone (say it “folk’stun”), for more strolling, eating, and drinking.
- Here, the tide was out, and the boats were in.
- Alas, here also were emotional farewells with the Thrussells until February.
So, about that battle. Oops, wait. Before the battle and our trip to Battle, we stopped over in Rye. Rye is yet another of England’s quintessential villages, and it just happens to be on the road from Ashford to Battle.
While in Rye, we discovered where the Brits grow their guns:
We also walked very, very carefully on rocky lanes:
As you know from your high school history studies, this island was invaded in 1066 AD by the Normans. (Should you need a review, a quick google of “William the Conqueror” and “the battle of Hastings” should do it.) The big battle which sealed the deal for the Normans took place at the place now named Battle.
The village of Battle, surprisingly, was so much more than the story of a battle. Why? Because of a Ploughman’s lunch, green fields, lambs, an abbey, an educational film explaining 1066, and an ice cream shop. The history presentation was excellent; however, my favorite part was the lambs. Here we are, walking the “battle line”:
Finally, we are home again in Jessica’s flat. Tonight’s discussion was, besides what to order for dinner, what to do tomorrow. Should we train to Winchester? Into London one more time? Eh?