In and around Bath

After stopping off for vital supplies at the art shop, and breakfast at Waitrose, we headed to local areas around Bath, as it was not a great day weatherwise, with a constant drizzle of rain as if we were sitting in a cloud. (We were). Visibility was poor and it didn't seem sensible to go trundling off too far.  Armed with our usual snacks, first stop was Charlcombe, the most delightful little church set up on one of Bath's hills, above a garden and St Alphege's Well.

The one problem with font-ing in this season is that there was no light and churches seem intent on saving electricity (who can blame them) as there are only minimal lights for visitors. You can see lights up above but no switches, so perhaps only the vicar has the key for these. It makes visiting on a dull day rather a dark affair and we were literally peering through the gloom all day. But luckily with the front door propped open we could just about see the delights of Charlcombe font, a real gem, which impressed me the second I opened the door. It is a lovely shape, with an interesting and unusual design set around the bottom. I took to calling the swirly bits "chelsea buns" and then there were definite mushroom designs between these. All rather deeply carved, which was accentuated by the light which fell on it.  We had to peer closely to draw it. The best thing about the font was that it was from one piece of stone and that it had an original stem and base! I do not even recall the last time we saw this as usually the base is later and the font bowl has been put on top. It was for me an absolute delight to see a whole, unaltered font. It somehow made such a connection to the past because the whole thing was as it had been from its creation.  Apparently the writers Henry Fielding and Jane Austen both visited the church (Fielding was married there. I often think if I got married I would use it as an excuse to have a nice font at the back of the room and to make this a focal point for the guests. "Now, if everyone can please admire the font.")

We stepped carefully through the wet grass of the garden on the slope below and found St Alphege's Well (on the hunt for moss again for other purposes). It had atmosphere in such a secluded setting, with the trees dripping around us, and apparently the water was good for eyes, so I doused my lids in the hope that I will no longer have to wear glasses. So far, no change.

Next stop was Langridge, where we have been before and I did remember it once I was there. The columns in the porch are lovely with some fine spirals, always fun to draw. There was also an arch of saltire crosses, or were they circles with shapes in that then formed saltire crosses where they met? I don't know if there is a difference. Inside there is a very impressive arch with much zigzagging and we noted some new things this time: two feet-like carvings at the bottom of columns and also two arch ends that looked like they could have been the start of dragons, they really did - we could see the faint line of where a mouth or teeth would be, as if the carver had been going to start dragons and then been called away or the church said, no, don't bother, those zigzags are more than enough.  See, we really are like Antiques Roadshow experts now.

Finally we finished in the small hillside village of Swainswick; again, somewhere I remember going in times before we drew. I did not remember a most unusual feature inside the church, which was a kitchen area. I jokingly asked my sister if she wanted a cup of tea, and then saw to my surprise that the church provided free tea and coffee for walkers and visitors. What an innovation. If more churches had kitchens, this would be ideal. It felt really kind.  I remembered a strange corner of the church where there was a weird bit of carving - a long piece of fish/finger/weird things like eels all coming out of the wall. Didn't really care for it then and didn't care for it this time either. There was a weird head, a roll of carpet on a famous Bath architect's memorial tablet, and some heads in the porch. I drew one of them - it had an okay expression, but turned more into a halloween mask in my drawing.

A weird day

Being under the influence of a cold is in some ways like being under the influence of other mind-altering things; my brain has been acting in a very strange way the last couple of days and it was all building up to a head full of cotton wool and some sneezing fits. So I write this in a semi-aware state and hope it makes sense. The last couple of nights' dreams have been a germ-induced muddle of strange images: rhinos, sharks (marine life, always marine life), gypsy children and general angst. And yesterday's trip out was also heavily influenced by the germ, I am sure, as neither of us could think straight and seemed lost in a world of vagueness. It wasn't a usual trip, I can tell you.

It started off with a visit to a spring at Bratton, for moss collection - a different venture to normal but one that was necessary. Bratton church had a (later) carved font which was tastefully decorated for harvest festival. Turns out the area is known for big cat (or dog) sightings, and the way the day developed the only surprise is that we didn't see one.

Onwards to Devizes, for a long awaited trip to the Italian cafe, Dolcipani. If you haven't been, then you must go, and you will never look back. I just wanted a decent espresso.  It was, as always, very busy. We both had a "Sicilian sunshine" ciabatta (enough for 2 meals) and I noticed, for the first time, that there were lots of references to Sicily. So when we finally dragged ourselves away, I asked (not in Italian, to my shame) the guy where he was from. "Sicily," he said. "Where in Sicily?" "Catania!" came the reply. No way! I could not believe it, having spent the last year in the very same place. The guy seemed less surprised by this coincidence and of course asked me how I'd liked it, etc. I said I missed granita and arancini, which he, of course, understood.  It was too busy to stand chatting to him, so I couldn't even get on to Etna.

A bit surprised by this coincidence the pair of us went on to our next stop, one of the churches in the centre of Devizes. Apparently we've been before, but I don't remember what was inside. Sadly it was shut this time, but I don't mind as it's a good excuse to go back to Dolcipani. We went on to a village just outside Devizes, except I wasn't looking at the map (there are too many in the car, I can never find the right one) and my sister got confused and took a road in the wrong direction. So after going in a big circle we ended up in Etchilhampton, a very quiet little spot. Outside the car, hundreds of bees were busy going in and out of holes in the bank. Further investigation is required as to what sort they were. Etchilhampton was a small church with a nice, simple font, with a band of carved semi circles. It was noticeably wonky and the design sloped down a little to one side.

We drove next to a place that was circled on the map, called Patney - not a place of note in Pevsner, but one that supposedly had had something of interest about it online. My sister could not remember what so we thought we would just turn up and see. As she went through the gate, I noticed it said "Private" but ignored this as we both headed up the path. Both of us were thinking the same thing, that they'd made a real effort with the flower beds as there were lots of flowers. A glance into the window of the building and R saw a standard lamp, I saw a sofa.  It was a house.  A church converted into a house. We beat a hasty retreat. I bet others have made the same mistake.

The day did not seem to be going to plan and we both felt a bit vague. So we decided to head back. The route home went near Old Dilton, where there is a disused church which is kept up by the The Churches Conservation Trust.  It was quite interesting as it was full of large box pews, where a whole family could sit together. It had escaped all the heavy Victorian features so it was quite plain. We had to get the key from a nearby house and it always makes it more fun when you have to unlock these heavy oak doors yourself.

We headed back via Upton Scudamore, where we have been before but then it was locked. This time we were in luck as a woman had gone in just as we were arriving. Except when we got out, two rather large dogs that were with her were guarding the gateway and barking at us. I was still feeling a bit weird and I did not like the look of this dog; its owner was too far away to call and the way the day had been going instinct was telling me it would probably take my leg off if I opened the gate. Probably it would have been fine, but I didn't like to risk it and so we gave it a miss. Sometimes you just have to trust your instincts, even if it means missing out on interesting Norman things.