End of the Odyssey

So after a cappuccino and a delicious Italian chocolate ice cream next to the Moot Hall in Aldeburgh - doesn't it look like it's made of gingerbread? - we hitched up the wagon and hit the road again. 

We dropped in on a good friend who's turned into a farmer over the past five years. After a tour of his large small-holding, he wowed us with his talent (brought out through hard graft under the wise gaze of his farming neighbour) as he and his trusty sheepdog, Stan, rounded up his sheep in true 'One Man and his Dog' style. Farmer Giles (no, really!) we salute you!!

Then, on to Cambridge, for a swim at Jesus Green. Yes, we made it!!

The soaring temperatures had pulled the crowds in, but by the time we arrived at 6.30, for the final hour before closing, the throng was thinning out - just how I like it! First thing in the morning, last in the evening - definitely my favourite swimming times for a bit of calm and space to think.

Female changing rooms to the left, male to the right - small, dark brown wood-panelled individual cubicles. There aren't any lockers - it's the old-skool system: stow all your belongings in a supermarket-style basket and exchange at the counter for a numbered rubber band. Love it!

The water isn't artificially heated - at the end of this hot day, it was a refreshing but very comfortable 21C. The pool is 100 yards long, so ten lengths was the goal, and the yards flew by. Swimming outdoors, I enjoy seeing the leaves and petals swirling on the bottom, and the occasional stray crisp bag for a bit of atmosphere. The pool's chlorinated, but not heavily, (best not to think about the number of kids who've been in all day.....) so the water felt light and silky. The can't-get-enough scent from the mock orange bushes in the borders perfumed the summery evening air. Heaven!

A couple of photos to remind us to come back

 

a picture of the lazy evening Cam, whose straight, narrow lines were the inspiration behind the design of this pool

then back on the road to Manchester

Listening between the Notes

Now, where was I? Ah yes, Aldeburgh, where I took this photo of an incredible, stripy rose! Aldeburgh, which celebrates with a fanfare its former resident Benjamin Britten, as does the English establishment. An awkward silence hangs in the air. What about the choirboys who were such an inspiration? The boy who protested, whose mother wouldn't believe him? Another boy, who grew up, fought in the Second World War, killed himself two months before his wedding? How come their voices have been drowned out? Idyllic Aldeburgh, pictures, soundtrack. Where are the words?

Aldeburgh - Southeast Odyssey Part 2

After Broomhill, we headed across to Aldeburgh, beautiful coastal resort renowned for its breathtaking scenery and, among the variety of cultural events on offer, its poetry festival in November. We admired Maggi Hambling's shell sculpture and marvelled at the sloping, pebbly beach, which bears no resemblance to the flat, sandy North Sea beaches like Bamburgh, Whitley Bay and Tynemouth which we're more familiar with. The sea was turquoise but choppy, so we decided to give swimming a miss on this occasion, with a thought that we might come back sometime for a longer visit.