Tyntefield and Titles

Tyntesfield

Well as promised, this post strays a bit from Hotwells… about 6 miles west, to be precise, to Tyntesfield (pronounced Tintsfield), Wraxall, North Somerset (UK, World). It was acquired by the English National Trust less than ten years ago, as it was considered the last major High Victorian house and estate to have survived largely unaltered (according to the guidebook). Although originally built in the early 19^th century, it was acquired in 1843 by William Gibbs, a guano baron, who greatly extended the house (after all, doesn’t everyone need a house with 106 rooms and a private chapel?). The building is actually quite lovely – apparently gothic revival in style – with colorful formal gardens in the front and a beautiful ‘park’ all around, consisting of largely stately trees with golf course grass underneath. When we (Jon Blundy, his 13 year old daughter Lillian, and me) arrived it was misty, so that there was a depth to the woodsy scene and the few leaves starting to change colors were illuminated by the soft light. But the drizzle was also conducive to a tour of the inside of the house (although only a fraction of the total number of rooms are open… the trust is gradually restoring the rest of the house – I paid for a lottery ticket that is part of a fund drive to raise money to restore the rockinghorse, something of which my Mom would have approved!). 

I couldn’t take many pictures inside, as flash photography was forbidden and, with shades drawn to protect fragile fabric, most of the rooms were too dark for non-flash photography. Hence the close-ups of stained glass from the chapel, which was photographable! But the house was surprisingly friendly inside – lots of rooms of manageable size that were framed in carved wood and enhanced by wall after wall of books – some in gilt-bound sets (multi-volume biographies of Disraeli and Sir Walter Scott; single-volume biographies of many, but not all, past monarchs, etc) but many shelves of books that actually looked read and somewhat disheveled. The bedrooms had glorious large windows that looked across the formal gardens to the tree-dotted green of the park. Oddly, however, the last Baron [more about barons below] to inhabit the house (until he died in 2001) chose to remain in his childhood bedroom rather than take over one of the larger and more stately bedrooms… actually, it sounds a bit sad. He never married and lived alone in the large house after his mother died in 1979, maintaining the grounds but gradually retreating to only a few rooms in the house. The house is now being restored, in part, to its heyday in the late 19^th century, although there are bits and pieces from more recent times (seems like a Susie problem… what period does one restore to?). Reminded me of my grandmother’s house, with layers of time superimposed… But of course, as an American, while admiring of the gorgeous Upstairs, I was most fascinated by glimpses of Downstairs, like the row of bells near the kitchen, carefully labeled for each room (I’ve seen those in movies like Gosford Park), and, even more intriguing, the storeroom for chamberpots, which come in various forms and sizes (never really thought about chamber pot varieties before!).

After finishing our tour of the house, we emerged to glorious sunshine and beautiful views of the house. After exploring the formal gardens, we set off to find the public footpath to Wraxall – a short walk – where we headed straight for The Battleaxes, a beautiful newly restored pub where we had an excellent late lunch. I like the reliability of good pub in every tiny British town (or so it appears to me!). I did note, however, that while the pub is newly refurbished, the quintessential red telephone booth outside was looking sadly neglected, another victim of new technology.

Titles

Ok – so I had some questions about titles after last week’s post, so I decided to do some research. I asked my two sources – Jon and Mark – who started rattling off rankings and distinctions between hereditary and honorary titles and I immediately got lost. So I turned to my friend Wikipedia. Here’s a short recap. Clearly King (Queen; Prince/Princess) are at the top of the list in the UK… interestingly, while the wives of kings share their husbands’ rank and title (though not sovereign power), the opposite is not true. The office is hereditary. Viceroy (Vicereine) is a term that is apparently now abandonned – was used for the chief British government official in India; the position was appointed. Duke (Duchess) is a member of the nobility, historically of highest rank below the monarch, and historically controlling a duchy. Dukes in the United Kingdom are addressed as "Your Grace" and referred to as "His Grace". Marquess (Marchioness) is also a nobleman of hereditary rank; the title ranks below a duke and above an earl (apparently traditionally a Marquess had more responsibilities to defend territory, hence the higher rank). Count/Earl (Countess) is an aristocratic nobleman in European countries (the male terms are equivalent… the former is a French word while the latter is British). Earl is often a courtesy title for the eldest son of a duke. In modern Britain, an earl is a member of the peerage (that is, they have the right to sit in the House of Lords); there never developed a feminine form of earl, instead countess is used as the equivalent feminine title. Viscount (Viscountess) is a courtesy title for the heir of an earl or marquess. The peer's heir apparent will sometimes be referred to as a viscount, if the second most senior title held by the head of the family is a viscountcy (did anyone follow that? I'm quoting Wikipedia directly there!). Baron (Baroness) is a title of nobility. In the British peer system, barons rank below viscounts, and form the lowest rank in the peerage; they are addressed as Lord (Lady… actually I think a lot of the above ranks are addressed as Lord/Lady). In the twentieth century Britain introduced the concept of non-hereditary life peers, all of whom have the rank of baron; life-peers are not counted as part of the aristocracy. Knight is an honorific order established as a way to confer prestige and distinction. Modern knighthoods are typically awarded in recognition for services rendered to society: services which are not necessarily martial in nature. The British musician Elton John, for example, is a Knight Bachelor, thus entitled to be called Sir Elton. The female equivalent is a Dame (e.g., Dame Judi Dench). Wives of knights are entitled to the honorific "Lady" before their husband's surname (e.g., Lady McCartney). The husbands of Dames have no honorific. SO - that made everything clearer, didn't it?

Life in Hotwells

Life on the water

I’m started to ease into life in Bristol, on the water. I’ve rearranged the living room so that the couch, which used to be aimed at the TV, is now situated so that I can look out to the harbor… when I sit drinking my morning coffee I watch the traffic over the little turquoise bridge that spans my waterway: joggers, bikers, school kids in uniform, adults headed to work. The water is often flat calm when I wake up, but is usually ruffled and alive by commuter time. The leaves on the trees across the way are already yellow and starting to thin, and people walking by are wearing coats… and the sky is often gray, although I have noticed that the weather changes both frequently and rapidly (and it’s sunny this morning). 

By afternoon the wind has usually come up, and as I walk home from the University there are usually sailing classes running from the sailing club directly across from me. Yesterday the water was dotted with blue-sailed laser-like boats that were running through a slalom course of buoys, manned by kids in wet suits (clearly appropriate sailing gear here!). And as night falls and the lights come on, the harbor water shimmers with patches of white and orange light.

The sublime

I’m also realizing that there are parts of the lifestyle that I could get used to here… not having a car does mean that I just plain spend more time walking, which is not a bad thing. It’s a good way to learn my way around the local neighborhood and insures a base level of exercise (there is some topography here). But it also means that I have quickly latched onto the concept of deliveries, which are much more common here than in Eugene! I have now signed up with “Milk-and-more” for weekly deliveries of milk and yogurt – they will also deliver everything from sparkling water to compost to toilet paper (by on-line request before 9pm on the night before the delivery). I’ve also signed up for a weekly veg & fruit box from Riverford Organic Vegetables (http://www.riverford.co.uk/) – they seem to run a consortium of local organic farms around the country… they also offer delivery of meat, beer, wine and eggs, among other things. In addition, the grocery stores will deliver if you want, although there’s a grocery store that is only a block out of the way on my walk home, so it’s not a problem. But it has made me wonder why this concept lost its hold when I was little (I do still remember milk delivery) – seems like a good addition to the Obama jobs plan AND more environmentally friendly to have a few delivery trucks rather than everyone going to the grocery store! There’s a good greengrocers across the harbor, and also a farmer’s market every Wednesday (with booths that sell local cheese, fish, meat and eggs in addition to veggies and lots of apples and apple juice, which is sold by apple variety!). And just two days ago I discovered that The Pump House, the pub/restaurant next door, not only sells jams and chutneys but also artisan bread, cheese and eggs. SO – I don’t think I’ll starve!

The ridiculous

There are also some funny aspects of life here… one that I have particularly noticed (because I’ve been filling out a lot of forms) is the insistence on titles. Now most forms have the usual choice – Mr., Mrs., Miss, Ms, Dr. [I’ve been using Ms because it seems the most egalitarian and therefore the least British]. However, when I went on-line to order a recycling bin (of all things) from the City Council, I was given the additional options of Rev, Sir, Lady, Lord and Dame … it did make me think – if I listed myself as Dame, would they give me a ceramic or gold-plated recycling bin rather than the usual black plastic??? To celebrate the quirky aspects of British life, I bought myself a second-hand copy of Bill Bryson’s Notes from a Small Island...

18 Rownham Mead

I’ve now had almost a week in Bristol – for the most part it has felt like a whirlwind of logistics... so I thought that most of this blog should be about my new home 18 Rownham Mead. SO here’s the tour.

The neighborhood: I live on Bristol’s ‘Floating Harbor’, a modification to the tidal portion of the Avon River that was made over 200 years ago, to allow trading vessels to stay afloat (and trade) throught the tidal cycle. I live at the west end of the harbor, just above the ‘Brunel lock’. Brunel was a famous engineer who saw the big picture of transportation – he also designed the train station and build the SS Great Britain, the world’s first iron ocean liner (I’ll do a separate blog on a Brunel tour of Bristol!). My little waterway sits at right angles to the Floating Harbor… according to my ‘Bristol Harbor Heritage Trail’ book, it was established as a dry dock for shipbuilders in 1772… most recently it apparently was home to Bristol’s fleet of sand-dredging ships, until they left in 1991 and my development was constructed.

My house: My house is a “terrace house” (what we would call a row house), but it’s on the end of the row… the only silly thing about this cookie cutter style of house-building is that, even though I have a great south-facing exposure, there are no windows on the south side (so Andie, if I’m going to join the passive solar experiment it will have to be from the perspective of oblique passive solar!). BUT as you can see, I have wonderful big east-(and water-)facing windows in both the kitchen (first floor) and living room (second floor). I also have a nice tiny little garden out front where I can sit and drink my morning coffee and watch the water… 

A couple of days ago, two rowboat owners took advantage of the early morning glassy stillness of the water in the form of a morning row… I was jealous! Clearly I need to start making friends with my neighbors!!! (or buy myself a rowboat) so that I can participate in the ebb and flow of boat traffic on the river. There are several rowers that appear in the early morning – in both skinny racing shells and larger sturdier boats (can’t remember what they’re called – I know that Ken has rowed one). Then the sailboats come out in the afternoon, when the wind picks up. Mostly the winds seem moderate and good for small boat sailing. Except when we caught the edge of Hurricane Katia – the wind was really howling all day on Monday - a little flock of kayakers eddied out in our protected water space, when the wind picked up too much.

Now for the room you’ve all been waiting for – the guest room! It’s on the same floor as the living room and has its own (quite tiny) bathroom and shower. Looks west rather than east, but is a nice light room. At the moment it has a saggy single bed – I promise that it will soon have an un-saggy double bed and towels! The western end of the hallway has a pretty little stained-glass window, at the base of the stairs to the third floor, which has two rooms plus a bathroom. I’ve taken the west-facing room as my bedroom because there are several built-in closets. Am planning to turn the east-facing (water and hill view) room into a study, although at the moment it has only another very saggy bed which I’ll need to get rid of… but I do just wander into the room in the morning to gaze out the window – I love the colorful row houses up on the hill. The bathroom deserves mention not only because it has a shower (rather than just a bath) but also because the water pressure is very un-British (Ken – I won’t need that booster so you’re absolved of that particular duty!!). 

 

The process: As expected, the UK is pretty efficient, so that the process of renting my house, getting a bank account, etc. has gone fairly smoothly. It’s interesting to see ways in which things are run differently here – most notably, all utilities, banking, etc is done either on-line or by direct payment from your bank account (which means that one has to have a bank account before setting up anything else). And the electric bill is done with an estimated payment – the meter is checked only every three months, and payment adjusted then! The University internet is also interesting – after registering with the wifi network eduroam, I can hop on University internet networks not only all over the UK, but also across Europe (and, I think, beyond)… very civilized.  

9/10/11 departure

And so my adventure starts… after days of lists, and more lists, and endless minutes working my way through computer-‘assisted’ call networks to cancel subscriptions, convert to on-line subscriptions, explanations, discussions… [an example – I thought I would try to save some trees by simple cancelling my hard copy of the New Yorker while converting to the iPad version. But no. Either I get both or I cancel my subscription and resubscribe, for a lot more money, to the iPad version. So my housesitter Natalia will be introduced to the New Yorker. I tried to explain to the young woman on the phone that it reminded me of the diner scene in Five Easy Pieces – which I just found on YouTube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wtfNE4z6a8 - where Jack Nicholson wants toast with his omelette tries to order toast… when told that he’s not allowed any substitutions, he orders a chicken salad sandwich on toasted bread, hold the mayo, hold the lettuce… and hold the chicken salad]. 

But all the petty details aside, during the past few weeks I’ve been savoring Eugene, in all its heat, feasting on fresh veggies, acquainting myself with my beautifully renovated bathroom (thanks, in particular, to Ken and Sabina – see photos), and mostly just enjoying all my wonderful friends and family. And so I keep reminding myself that in this electronic age, adventures are easily shared, friends are a Skype or email connection away, and hopefully I can bridge my Eugene and Bristol worlds in positive ways. Hence this blog, which I have decided to try as an alternative to my traditional letter writing mode – something started when I moved to New Zealand in 1977, when letters were the only option, and that my Mom encouraged by offering to be the portal to the rest of the family. And so letters evolved from tiny writing to fill the constrained space of an aerogram to email letters illustrated with photos, which seem to flow naturally into a blog format.