Letter 13 from Europe RV trip

Again, it turned out to be easy to get to Winchester. English roads have very good signs, and always give you the opportunity to figure out where you are going in advance of your having to make the turn. We found the city and the campground with no trouble.

The contrast in price between the campground fees in London and Winchester was striking. Because it was mid-week, Hillside in Winchester only charged us nine pounds a night. That translates to about $16 instead of $28. Both are run by the same organization – The Caravan Club of England – and both have up-to-date facilities. London is really expensive.

Winchester has a lovely cathedral and a center that is full of old buildings from various centuries. We drove the RV to a near-by Park & Ride, and took a bus into the inner city. Park and Rides are a real bargain, especially in expensive England. For 2 Pounds, about $3.70, we parked the RV for the whole day and rode the bus into Winchester and back—the two of us.

We had a brochure that laid out several walks. We decided on one that took us through the old city, past the mayor’s house where we saw a trout swimming in the stream right in front of it, and many really old buildings, the remains of the Roman wall, and the medieval wall along the river. The walk was about a mile long. We passed Winchester College, founded in the 1300’s, the house in which Jane Austen died, and the ruins of the castle at Winchester, which had been dismantled in the 14th century by Henry de Blois, Bishop of Winchester. He was the brother of King Stephen who was waging war with another heir of William the Conqueror, his cousin the Empress Maude. All fans of Brother Caedfael (by Ellis Peters) will recognize these dramatis personnae at once. We walked around the ruins and even took a picture of the ruins of the room where the last “big” event took place in that palace – the meeting of the Catholic Queen Mary Tudor and Prince Philip of Spain and their wedding breakfast!

We did not go into the cathedral, although Jane Austen is among those buried there. Instead, we decided
to walk around the city. When it came time to have lunch out, we picked a coffee shop on the second floor of a homegoods shop. It wasn’t so much the price of the lunch that incensed Ron – it was what they served. He asked for a toasted ham sandwich and he paid quite handsomely for it. There was only one thin slice of ham in the middle of two thick slices of white bread – and the ham was tasteless and salty. Adelle had opted for a Cornish pasty – which turned out to be much tastier.

After lunch we continued our walk on the High Street. In England, many towns have a High Street where all the shops are. Why High St. rather than Main St.? Why is it always The High Street? Who knows? We passed a street seller of flowers who had a lovely bunch of flowers for only two pounds. After we bought them, we asked her if she would keep them for us. She said she would do so until 3:30.

We went on to the little town museum, which we walked through in a short time. This museum had a great but small collection of artifacts dating from England’s stone age through recent times, including some prime examples of decorated bronze and iron-age pottery. Then we consulted the list the Tourist Office had given us, and looked for internet places. The first had only one machine and it was in use. The second had only one machine, but it was free. It wasn’t possible to post our pictures, however, so we checked our mail and moved on. By then it was 3:15, so Ron went on ahead to pick up the flowers. He got to the place where the stand had been, and it was gone. But in the corner of the arcade he found our flowers, in a tub with a little water. We could hardly believe that no one had simply taken the flowers before we got there. We gratefully took our flowers, and caught the bus back to the Park & Ride.

In the morning, we discussed driving to Chawton, where Jane Austen had lived for much of her life. But Adelle decided against it, and we instead drove a short way to Salisbury. Here again the public transit was sparse. There was a bus every two hours. We got into the campground in the morning, and took the next bus into the city. As we got on the bus, Ron asked the driver if this bus would take us into the center of Salisbury (pronounced Sal’s bury). The bus driver seemed very confused and Ron repeated his inquiry. Finally, the driver said. “Oh, you mean Saul’s bury” and told us to get in. Sometimes even though you speak the same language, there are considerable differences.

We walked the short distance from the bus station to the Cathedral. As we walked into the Close (the area where a cathedral is located), we both exclaimed at this building. Because it was built in only 50 years or so, there is one design, one plan for the entire building, and it is breathtaking. So beautiful, that we paid the fee to get into the building – which is equally spectacular inside. In addition, Salisbury Cathedral owns one of the original four copies of the Magna Carta, which is on display in the Chapter House. Next to the original is a translation into modern English of the document, and we learned a bit more about it.

Before we even entered the Cathedral, Ron had been taking pictures from as far away as he could get from the building. There’s no other way to get it all in. Therefore, he had been in front the museum across the street. There was a big sign outside quoting Bill Bryson (author of “Notes From a Small Island” and several other very funny books) as saying that this was a terrific museum and he urges us to go there immediately. Since we are big fans of this author, we decided we had to do what he said. And were we ever glad. It was a great museum – much larger than we had thought. It had a large section on the pre-history of the area, another section on an archeologist named Pitt-Rivers, a section on the history of the city, and a gallery which displayed costumes and china among other things. We walked until we were exhausted, had coffee, went through more galleries and then left.

When the 6:20 bus came, we approached the bus driver with the disquieting information that we hadn’t remembered to find out the name of our stop. He didn’t know where the campground was. Luckily, a very young man who was also on the bus happened to know where the campground was, and we were able to return safely. We won’t let ourselves be in that position again!