Dear Anglophiles: As many of you are aware, I am taking a sabbatical from blogging due to my mother being critically ill.  I expect to resume blogging in September.  Until then, I am very excited to announce that guest writer Vicki Speegle will be sharing her travel journal with us!   Vicki traveled by ship to England and is now in London for the first time and will be touring the U.K.  Warning: Her posts will make you want to drop everything and fly across the pond straightaway!  Feel free to make comments or ask her questions. --Zella

TANTALLON CASTLE

I love it when I go on a journey and stumble onto something completely unexpected.  Something I didn’t plan for.  Little surprises, wondrous discoveries.  Like the one I stumbled upon in North Berwick, in Scotland.

On the bus ride to my hotel the other day, we drove past meadows filled with sheep, a trailer park on a bluff, gas stations, apartment complexes.  And then I looked out the window to my left and my jaw dropped.  There loomed a massive crumbling castle!  I couldn’t believe it.  Only planned on coming to North Berwick to see the Highland Games, and it turns out they have a historic castle here as well.  I went there today.  And it was amazing.

Tantallon Castle was built in the 1350s by William Douglas (whose uncle was a close friend of King Robert Bruce), and for the next 300 years, the Red Douglases lived there as one of the most powerful families in Scotland.  It seemed to me from all the history I read about them that they betrayed their own countrymen a lot.  Made me wonder how the people of North Berwick feel about this place.

In 1491, Tantallon Castle was besieged by James IV in reprisal for an agreement to betray him to Henry VII of England.  In 1543 the Douglases again sought to betray Scotland to England, allowing it to be used as a base by Henry VIII's ambassador during his "Rough Wooing" of Mary Queen of Scots.  In 1650 Cromwell's forces attacked and destroyed the castle, leaving it pretty much the way it is today.  Tantallon is supposedly haunted, and there’s a video you can watch that shows the “ghost.”  I don’t know.  I’m not convinced.  See what you think.  (See video below.)

Walking around in the roofless rooms of Tantallon - ancient stones soaring up into the sky - was truly like stepping back in time.

VIDEO: Ghost of Tantallon Castle

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Dear Anglophiles: I've made an exciting discovery of a book about the Guernsey evacuees, and if you enjoy WWII history and/or riveting personal accounts, you'll want to check it out.  The book was written by Gillian Mawson.  Many of us on this side of the pond became aware of the Guernsey evacuees through Mary Ann Shaffer's and Annie Barrows'  historical novel, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.  Now, Ms. Mawson has taken this fascinating bit of history one step further by interviewing actually Guernsey evacuees.  The stories in Mawson's book are the real McCoys!  She also has a forthcoming book, due out next year, about British evacuees, so stay tuned for that.

GUERNSEY EVACUEES
by
Gillian Mawson

In 2008, I discovered that in June 1940, over 20,000 evacuees had fled Guernsey to England, just days before their island was occupied by the Nazis for five years.

I was astounded. I knew that the Channel Islands had been occupied during the Second World War but had no idea that almost half the population had fled their homes to England. I could not imagine how those rural islanders must have felt when they arrived in the industrial towns of England, penniless and friendless. Whole schools were evacuated from Guernsey and thousands of young mothers fled their homes with their infants. I immediately began to search for surviving evacuees to ask them about their experiences in England during the war, and five years later, I am still collecting their stories.

The interviews were very emotional as many of the evacuees had never shared their stories before, and the separation from their families in Guernsey for five whole years was still traumatic for them to recall. Child evacuees who had left home under 5 years of age told me that, by 1945, they had forgotten what their own parents looked like and had become attached to the English families who cared for them. Others told me that their Guernsey teachers had re-opened their schools in England, so that they could care for their pupils during the war. I was amazed at how much responsibility these teachers had taken on. One of the Guernsey schools was financially supported by kind Americans, and one child, Paulette, was actually supported by Mrs Eleanor Roosevelt. For quite some time, Paulette had no idea who Mrs Roosevelt was, and she wrote letters simply addressed to  'Aunty Eleanor'.

Some evacuees were killed in air raids and thousands joined the British forces as soon as they were old enough to leave school. Others worked in ammunition factories or built aircraft. The evacuated mothers' stories were particularly emotional, as they described the kindness of their neighbours who gave them, not just clothing and household items, but friendship.

When Guernsey was liberated on 9 May 1945 (a day after VE Day), many evacuees began to plan their return home, although some decided to remain in the communities in which they had settled. Sadly, many of those who returned to Guernsey faced criticism from those who had remained behind. One mother told me, "People in my street said that I was a coward and that I had run away from the Germans. To this day it makes me want to weep." Almost every evacuee I have interviewed wished to thank the kind people of England for the help they gave them during the war.

My interviews, together with a hundred wartime images, were incorporated into my first book 'Guernsey Evacuees: The Forgotten Evacuees of the Second World War'

At the present time, I am collecting evacuation stories from all over Britain for a new book, which will be published in September 2014. Already the stories differ greatly:  some reveal the excitement of living in a new area and making new friends, others reveal sadness and
issues regarding family separation.  

Every time I listen to a new wartime evacuation story, I am amazed at the resilience of children. How many parents today could send their children away to live with total strangers, for years on end?  It is vital that the memories from the Second World War are collected and preserved now, otherwise they will be lost for ever.


To read more about Gillian Mawson's Evacuees project, click HERE


To read Gillian Mawson's blog, click HERE

The Forgotten Evacuees of the Second World War
US readers may purchase the book HERE
UK readers may purchase the book HERE

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Dear Anglophiles: As many of you are aware, I am taking a sabbatical from blogging due to my mother being critically ill.  I expect to resume blogging in September.  Until then, I am very excited to announce that guest writer Vicki Speegle will be sharing her travel journal with us!   Vicki traveled by ship to England and is now in London for the first time and will be touring the U.K.  Warning: Her posts will make you want to drop everything and fly across the pond straightaway!  Feel free to make comments or ask her questions. --Zella

THE HIGHLAND GAMES

What fun.  A long day of seeing things I may never see again – piping bands, Highland dancing, caber tossing.  When I got home tonight, I was so tired I could barely walk straight.  Happy tired.  The sound of pipes still playing in my ears.

The Highland Games began in the 11th century when King Malcolm Canmore organized a foot race up Craig Connish in Braemar to find the fastest courier for his court.  Soon other Kings and Chieftains copied the idea, and the games expanded to include dancing and piping contests so the best entertainers could be hired.  Games of strength were introduced to find the strongest men for bodyguards.  In the 1700s, the rulers of England did their best to destroy the Clan system for fear of uprisings from the Scottish people.  The playing of bagpipes and wearing of the kilt, among other things, were banned by Act of Parliament!  But the spirit of the gatherings was kept alive by the Highland regiments until by 1848, Queen Victoria herself was attending.  Now there’s a royal tradition of attendance at Braemar.  How things come around.

My favorite activities at the games today were the Highland dancers and what they call the "heavy events" – putting the ball, throwing the Scots hammer, caber tossing.  It’s so cool because all the heavy events use weights and objects that were used in everyday life on the farms – activities that people had to do in real life.  The caber toss originates from crofters transporting newly-felled tree trunks (cabers).  To get them across the river, they would try to toss them into the center of the stream and make the trunk turn end over end until it landed on the other bank.  There’s evidence that Henry VIII participated in caber tossing.

Women now participate in the heavy events, and I have to say, I found this annoying.  First of all, they just weren’t exciting to watch because they weren’t as good as the guys.  And I came to Scotland to watch big burly boys toss logs, not girly girls.  Is it really necessary for women to do everything the men do?  :)  But it was amazing because there were competitors from all over the world – even two guys from the USA!  Bands came from such disparate places as North Carolina and the Netherlands.

I got lucky at the Highland dancing competition.  A dancer and her mother were sitting right next to me, and the girl got up and started practicing!  Got some great photos of her.  Even the wee ones participate in the dancing and there was the cutest little blond boy – looked like he was only three – up there dancing with everyone else.  He slipped part-way through his dance, got up, and kept right on going.

At the end of the day, all the piping bands get together for a mass march through town, but I had to leave before it started to catch my bus.  I was so disappointed.  And then the most perfect thing happened.  When I got to my bus stop, I noticed there were lots of people standing around, sitting on the curbs, waiting for something.  And I realized the bands were going to march right past my bus stop!  Sure enough, after only about 20 minutesm I heard the sound of the pipes coming down the hill.  All of the bands marched right past me!  The people loved it, cheered and clapped.  And as the last band marched away, my bus pulled up.

And that, my friends, is what they call a perfect day.

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Dear Anglophiles: As many of you are aware, I am taking a sabbatical from blogging due to my mother being critically ill.  I expect to resume blogging in September.  Until then, I am very excited to announce that guest writer Vicki Speegle will be sharing her travel journal with us!   Vicki traveled by ship to England and is now in London for the first time and will be touring the U.K.  Warning: Her posts will make you want to drop everything and fly across the pond straightaway!  Feel free to make comments or ask her questions. --Zella

I'M HERE IN SCOTLAND!  (2:15 p.m.)

Just got into North Berwick (pronounced Bear-ick).  Walked about ¾ mile from the train station to my bus stop, and now I’m having a bite to eat before I head to my hotel.  Lunching at The Ship Inn – medley of mushrooms in creamy garlic, white wine, and tarragon sauce on a crouton.  Mmmm…  And I’ve got a chocolate brulee with coconut ice cream coming for dessert.  A little more adventurous today.  :)

Walking through the town of North Berwick, I kept stopping every few feet, letting out a gasp and gaping at some new, beautiful sight.  This place is so gorgeous, I thought I’d never make it to my lunch.  North Berwick is right on the coast with lots of craggy bluffs and sweeping views of the sea.  Just what I was hoping for.  I even saw a crumbling castle overlooking the water on the way from Newcastle into Edinburgh!

The people here are so warm and friendly.  I got a little lost on my way to the bus stop, and one kind gent asked if I needed help and told me how to find it.

In half an hour, I’ll be on the bus into Dunbar, 40 minutes outside North Berwick.  Isn’t it funny – my Grandma & Grandpa Schwenning were from a little town in the mountains of Pennsylvania called Dunbar?

IN DUNBAR (4:20 p.m.)

Can’t believe I’m really here!  Just checked into my room at the Bayswell Park Hotel.  At first I thought it was a little creepy – lots of poorly-lit corridors, going up to my room.  It looks to be a very old place.  And then I put my key in the lock and opened the door.  My window looks right out onto the sea!  I can hear seagulls as I write this, the waves crashing against the rocks.  It’s a pretty small room, just what I need.

Before I go off exploring, I thought I’d give you a glimpse of the scenery we passed on the journey from London to Edinburgh.  Loved the names of the towns we passed, but my favorite was Longniddry.  And it looks just as its name promises.  Narrow, winding roads and quaint, well-worn buildings that have looked on many years.

I’m dying to get out and about, so I’ll leave you for now with a peek through my train window!


DUNBAR, SCOTLAND (Midnight)

The end of a long, happy day.  I took a walk from the hotel into Dunbar town center, along the coast.  Discovered that John Muir was from Dunbar!  His birthplace is now a museum.  Didn’t know who he was at first, but I knew I recognized his name.  He was a naturalist, inventor, and writer – a pioneer of nature conservation.  It was due, in large part, to his efforts that the Yosemite and Grand Canyon National parks were created, and President Theodore Roosevelt worked with him to develop further conservation programs.

Took a lot of pictures in town of these little alleyways they call “closes.” Really cool, like miniature peeks into people’s lives.  I’m curious about what it’s like to live here.  How different are these people’s lives from mine?  I’m sure a lot is the same.  They all have to get up and go to work, do laundry, shop for groceries.  But what’s different?  Do they take all this beauty around them for granted, after living among it for so long?  I guess we all take the beautiful things for granted after a while.  God promises us a new earth – not Heaven at all – but a new earth at the end of times.  So maybe this is supposed to be our heaven after all.  And He will bless us with wider eyes to see it, bigger hearts to care for it.

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Dear Anglophiles: As many of you are aware, I am taking a sabbatical from blogging due to my mother being critically ill.  I expect to resume blogging in September.  Until then, I am very excited to announce that guest writer Vicki Speegle will be sharing her travel journal with us!   Vicki traveled by ship to England and is now in London for the first time and will be touring the U.K.  Warning: Her posts will make you want to drop everything and fly across the pond straightaway!  Feel free to make comments or ask her questions. --Zella

ON MY WAY TO SCOTLAND (10:00 a.m.)

On the East Coast train to Edinburgh.  There I’ll connect to North Berwick via Scotrail.
   
It occurred to me as I put my luggage up and took my seat that it’s important to think of the journey part of your journey as an adventure too.  I tend to treat the “getting there” as just a means to an end.  The train I’m on is wonderful, but I failed to take advantage of it.  I’m traveling from Kings Cross, and when I booked they gave me a choice of forward or back-facing seat, seat at a table, window or aisle, and quiet car.  I didn’t give much thought to any of these options.  Just wanted to get a seat so I could be sure I was on my way.  Now I wish I’d been more choosy.  I was wise enough to select the quiet car, but the seat at a table would have been lovely too.  Lots of room to set out a drink, my laptop, a book.  And the windows are bigger!  My seat has a little tray, but it’s more cramped here, the view out the window more stingy.  But I’m on my way to SCOTLAND!  So I can’t be disappointed.

Last night I spent an hour getting to know my new camera better so I can take some good shots of the highland games.  Finally figured out how to change the ISO setting so I can get moving shots, and discovered a “continuous” setting that allows me to snap several shots within seconds!  This will come in very handy when those Scots in kilts start tossing logs.  :)  My Mom gave me a Pentax K-1000 for Christmas one year, and it’s gone with me on nearly every journey I’ve taken – through Austin Texas, New Orleans, Colorado, Mississippi, Atlanta, Vieques Puerto Rico.  And Mom's gone with me on many of those too.  I always swore I’d never go digital.  That my Pentax would be my only witness.  But it’s hard to keep a travel blog and post photos every day when you have to wait for your film to be developed.  Not to mention expensive.  So I had to face reality and give in to the new technology.  But my Pentax remains the best gift anyone’s ever given me.  The best gift from my best friend.  Wish she was here with me.

We left London in rainy, gray skies, but as we passed into Donington the blue came out and now we’re speeding through meadows speckled with sheep and sun-colored flowers.  It’s becoming more hilly too.  Don’t know at which point we’ll actually be in Scotland – maybe not till Edinburgh itself – but I’m getting more excited now.

My next report, dear friends, shall be from Scotland!  hee hee

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Dear Anglophiles: As many of you are aware, I am taking a sabbatical from blogging due to my mother being critically ill.  I expect to resume blogging in September.  Until then, I am very excited to announce that guest writer Vicki Speegle will be sharing her travel journal with us!   Vicki traveled by ship to England and is now in London for the first time and will be touring the U.K.  Warning: Her posts will make you want to drop everything and fly across the pond straightaway!  Feel free to make comments or ask her questions. --Zella

CAMBRIDGE

Cambridge is the second-oldest university in England, next to Oxford, and the third-oldest surviving university in the world!  My niece and I drove there from Mildenhall, in Bury St. Edmunds.  I kept thinking we’d gotten the wrong directions at first because even when we were supposedly just a mile or so from the university area, everything looked so modern, kind of ugly.  Then we got a glimpse of what we’d been looking for – a very beautiful, old building – and suddenly every street we turned down was filled with them.  We were in Cambridge proper.

What we really came to see is what they call “The Backs” – a stretch of the River Cam that some of the colleges “back” onto, with lovely little bridges arching across.  We parked in a garage and walked to Silver Street where it looks over the River Cam near Queens College.  And there was the view we’d come for – the river winding its way through tree-filled meadows and ancient buildings.  Reminded me of pictures I’ve seen of the canals in Venice in a way.

The frustrating thing is, unless you’re a student or have permission, you cannot access any of those lovely bridges or walk along the grounds.  It’s all private property belonging to the colleges of Cambridge University.  However, one way to see some of the grounds and get a view from a bridge is to pay for a tour of one of the colleges.  I think it was the Kings College tour for £2.50 that would have given us access to the bridge you see in my photo.  Kings College was founded in 1441 by Henry VI, and you can listen to their world-famous choir when they broadcast A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols every year on Christmas Eve.  They've been performing this service since 1918!

Anyway, we decided not to do the tour, but the guide there very kindly advised us that we could have a lovely walk along the river if we just went further along Silver Street, away from The Backs.  But we’d been walking for some time, and my little niece Scarlett was hungry, so we decided to be satisfied with the beautiful view we had.

You can also take a boat – or a “punt” as they call it in Cambridge – on the river, but this is expensive.  At least it was to us.  £14 per adult to row yourself, or £70 total if you want a punter.  I have to say, I found all of these restrictions a bit depressing.  So much natural beauty should be free for all to see, but instead, they've turned part of Cambridge into a tourist trap.  And even on a Tuesday morning, tourists were swarming the place.  Still, we enjoyed our visit.  Had lunch at The Anchor on Silver Street, with a table right by the river so we could watch the punters.

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To my Jewish readers:

Shana tova
WARM WISHES
FOR
ROSH HASHANAH!

Dear Anglophiles: As many of you are aware, I am taking a sabbatical from blogging due to my mother being critically ill.  I expect to resume blogging in September.  Until then, I am very excited to announce that guest writer Vicki Speegle will be sharing her travel journal with us!   Vicki traveled by ship to England and is now in London for the first time and will be touring the U.K.  Warning: Her posts will make you want to drop everything and fly across the pond straightaway!  Feel free to make comments or ask her questions. --Zella

MILDENHALL & THE U.S. AIR FORCE

This week, I’m visiting my niece, her husband, and my great-niece in Mildenhall, in Suffolk, England.  He’s in the U.S. Air Force and was stationed here recently.  The U.S. has three bases in the area, the largest being Lakenheath.  Turns out Mildenhall is part of Bury St. Edmunds, an ancient market town.  We’ll be going to visit the gorgeous Abbey Gardens there tomorrow, so come back and have a peek!

Since Mildenhall houses the Air Force, I was expecting to see a lot of gray government-type buildings, a smart efficiently laid-out neighborhood – strictly boring.   But Mildenhall surprised me.  This little town is made up of cozy old cottages, sprawling meadows filled with sheep, cows, and horses, and winding, tree-lined roads.  And Mildenhall has a very rich history.

The town's lineage goes back to Anglo-Saxon times.  The Domesday Book records Mildenhall as being well-established in 1086, with a church, a mill, 64 families, and 1,000 sheep.  A real swinging hotspot!  :)  My niece and I decided to go to afternoon tea, and as we walked through the town, we passed an ancient-looking structure that we later discovered is called the Market Cross.  It’s been the site of the Mildenhall Market since the 1400s, and also where the abbot of Bury St. Edmunds had criminals hanged.  During the 1381 Peasants’ Uprising, John de Cambridge, the prior of the abbey at Bury St Edmunds, was murdered on Mildenhall Heath.

Traces of settlement from the Old Stone Age onward have been found in the marshy fenland of Mildenhall, and the Romans had a ring of farmsteads around the fen edge.  The fabulous Mildenhall Treasure - thirty-two pieces of silver tableware from the Roman period, now in the British Museum - was discovered near one of these farmsteads during the Second World War.

We had afternoon tea at a lovely place called The Riverside Hotel.  My first official British teatime!  Sooooo yummy and fun.  We sat outside in the garden, by a little stream.  Heaven.  So today, I’m posting pics of our tea.

See you tomorrow in the Abbey Gardens!

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