The Motors and Majesty of Beaulieu

On my last full day Mum suggested we visit Beaulieu. I had come here once before as a child but couldn't recall much. I don't think vintage vehicles really held my interest in my youth, but today I was keen to visit.

We passed a gorgeous gatehouse designed by the famous Alfred Waterhouse. An extravagant 19th century French Renaissance chateau-style gatehouse, built of mainly brick, with an elaborate coat of arms carved above the arch. We then had to stop as a family pulled out on their horse and cart, likely going down the pub, and we drove very slowly past some horses possibly going to the same pub and some cows resting on the verge, likely on their way back from the pub.
Arriving at Beaulieu, I was amazed at how large the park was. There was so much to see but we knew we hadn't time to see everything so we opted for the car museum and then the Palace House. But first I had to catch a quick glimpse at the vehicles featured on TV and movies.

Del boy's Reliant Robin van from Only Fools and Horses with Mr Bean's Mini at the top and then a couple of vehicles from Top Gear. Clarkson's Fiat Panda from The Limousine Challenge was here so Mum struck a pose. The Reliant Robin space shuttle event was one of the funniest episodes ever from the show so it was incredible to see it up close. This vehicle was chosen because of its 'rockety' shape and the whole ensemble was put together at the "Glossop Space Centre (which was cunningly disguised as a shabby industrial unit next to a council estate.)" This model is the one that didn't go up as everyone who saw the show knows what happened to the first. Top Gear wanted to try again but have had to halt further attempts due to "lack of government funding and a stiff warning from the police." A short version of the episode is here.

We then entered the Motor Museum itself, a vast building housing about 250 of the most historically important vehicles as well as one of the finest collections of motoring books, photos and automobilia in the world. It was hard to know where to start so we just walked, and walked and walked, our eyes popping at the gleaming chrome and bodywork of these magnificent automobiles. I took so many photos, it was nearly impossible to select a few to post here, so I chose the most beautiful. The bonnet mascot above is one of 2 surviving out of 3 or 4 made, called The Whisperer. Sculpted by Charles Sykes from Lord Montague's secretary, Miss Eleanor Thornton, who was also believed to have been the model for the more famous Spirit of Ecstasy seen on Rolls Royces.

I had to take a photo of this, a Ford Capri MKI. I had 5 different models of these while living in England, I loved them so much, and once when I came home in a newer model after an absence of owning a Capri, my friend looked at me in the driving seat and said, "Deb, you've come home." It had certainly felt like it, I was so glad to be behind the wheel of another Capri. I wish I had one now.

As a child I was always hopping on and off of these Routemaster buses. We could run and jump on and off while the bus was moving, an action certainly not allowed today. The bus had the familiar seat fabric and even the smell inside that I remembered. It was lovely to sit inside and let my mind wander down memory lane for a few minutes.

The museum had nostalgic areas featuring old petrol pumps and workshops, no expense spared and filled with so much detail. Note the sleeping cat on the chair and the rat to the left of him inside the shop. Walking around these exhibits really gave a sense of the times these scenes represented.

And then I saw this and stopped in my tracks. A humungous black beast, the newest Rolls Royce model called Black Badge Dawn. A mere snip at £310,000. I want. I must have. I stood and drooled. It was even accented in my favorite color.

We passed land record vehicles, including the Bluebird, a racing car advertising Silk Cut cigarettes, a Lego caravan and then left the museum after Mum stood wistfully gazing at a Morgan for a while. I think an old boyfriend had one.
We caught an old trolley bus that took us to the Palace House. I wanted to walk, not really a good idea with my painful hip, so I was a little annoyed that I couldn't. But the house was stunning. When Lord Montague inherited it, the whole building was in dire need of restoration and the only way to pay for the work was to open it to the public. And what an incredible home it is. Obviously only part of the structure was accessible, the family still live in the rest of it, but it's decorated and furnished lavishly.

The Gothic arches, detailed stained glass windows, stenciling, intricate carvings on the ceilings, walls and columns, as well as every window view looking onto beautiful gardens, ensured that every corner turned and every doorway entered made us gasp with pleasure at what we perceived. And yet despite being surrounded by such finery the house still felt like a home. The curators were dressed in period clothes and could answer any question we asked. We had spotted a lot of horse chestnut trees on the way to the house and asked if we could collect some conkers. "Oh absolutely!" was the reply. "They're fabulous for warding off spiders, you know!" Well it seemed everyone in England did know this interesting fact except for me, but rest assured I now have plenty of conkers in the corners of every room at Meadow House, and they do seem to work...
And so we left, me loaded up with a pretty biscuit tin and tea mug and sweets from the Victorian kitchen, and we spent a very happy 20 minutes or so filling up our pockets with conkers for Mum and her friends. My last photo was of a New Forest pony standing stock still by a road sign, until we realized he was actually hanging about waiting for his nearly invisible black buddy whose butt was sticking out of a hedge, maybe munching on blackberries, we couldn't tell.

 And I did manage to get a superb last dinner of fish and chips, accompanied with a mushy pea fritter. Heaven! As I drove to Heathrow early the next morning, I munched on mini pork pies. This is becoming a Last Breakfast ritual for me when I leave England. I had plenty of room on the plane and was able to stretch out as I watched my homeland shrink below me. And later, as the jet turned on its side and dove down through huge white fluffy clouds like exploded pillows, American residential estates appeared, blocks of identical buildings side by side like the plastic houses on a Monopoly board. I was back...

A Church of Wonder in the Forest

On Tuesday Mum and I made a trip to Sainsbury's to get my hoard of goodies to take home, and to have breakfast. I had mine fully loaded, and it was divine.

I relished each and every mouthful, a breakfast this fine should be consumed slowly and with much appreciation. It should, but sadly I have to say it wasn't. I came close to bolting it down but Mum's presence opposite me held me back a little.

 My haul of English goodies after I arrived home. They had completely filled one case, but it was totally worth it. I even brought back slabs of extra mature cheddar, not shown here.
I took another trip to the chiropractor in the morning after shopping but once again it was only a temporary relief. I would be glad to get back to the U.S. and see my own doctor. But I wanted to go out exploring again, there was a church nearby in Lyndhurst that I had read about and wanted to see.

The small town is known as the capital of the New Forest since 1079 when William the Conqueror established it as a royal hunting ground. The town is also known for its dragon slaying, a brave knight killing it with his two dogs being lost in the battle. The knight never recovered from the lengthy fight and after dying, his body supposedly turned into a yew tree which is still there today. I didn't see the yew tree but I did spot this horrendous kid atop an ice cream cone outside a shop, which I thought did little to entice folks in to buy a treat.

The impressive Gothic church of St Michael and All Angels, built between 1858-1869. but the inside was what I wanted to see. Pre-Raphaelite windows, some designed by William Morris and Edward Burne-Jones, as well as a mural by Lord Frederick Leighton with local residents as models. It is a church of immense beauty, designed by artists whose work I adore.

There was to be no stint on the ornamentation of work and that is evident. Everywhere I looked were stunning carvings in stone and wood. Even the brickwork was an art piece. Wherever my eyes traveled I saw intricate detailing, on every surface within the church. It was quite breathtaking. The stonemasons were chosen by competition, each carving a pillar and then covering before the winner was selected. William Seale from Thomas Earp's in London was chosen, he and his team worked 10 hours a day for 7 shillings daily.

These glass windows took my breath away, the details were so lifelike and intense, like paintings from a story book, and instantly recognizable as the Pre-Raphaelite style. The bottom 2 were designed mostly by Edward Burne-Jones, but with input from William Morris and Philip Webb, (Standen House designers), while the top photo is traditional Victorian, designed by J. R. Clayton and A. Bell, showing more static figures in blue, red and green.

The fresco by Leighton showing the parable of the Wise and Foolish Virgins. Jesus warns listeners to be spiritually prepared. Then shall the Kingdom of Heaven be likened unto ten virgins, who took their lamps and went forth to meet the bridegroom. And five were to be wise and five were to be foolish. Local folklore says the 'wise' were painted from wealthy parishioners while the 'foolish' were portraits of the poor. Leighton was the first painter to receive a peerage, just a day before he died.

I could have stood and looked at these incredible windows all day long. Pre-Raphaelite artists often painted each other, or family, or friends in their art and I'm sure all these beautiful faces were from someone who actually existed.

The Flaxman Memorial, "an exquisite thing, in time and taste infinitely superior to other memorials."
Described by Brian Vesey Fitzgerald on this sculpture, dedicated to Sir Charles Philip Jennings. Sculpted by John Flaxman who worked at the Wedgewood Pottery and was later a sculpture professor at the Royal Academy. Being a Pre-Raphaelite fan it immediately reminded me of the painting, Isabella and the Pot of Basil by William Holman Hunt.

This poignant marble sculpture was designed by Samuel Pepys Cockerell, an English architect, of his 23 year old wife, Anne, who died in childbirth in 1880. The butterfly from a chrysalis represents the resurrected human soul.

Alice Liddell, who was the inspiration behind Lewis Carroll's book, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the looking-Glass, is buried here. she was actually known by her married name of Mrs Reginald Hargreaves.
It was hard to leave the church. It was easily the most meticulously resplendent church I've ever been in, simply stunning. And to have featured my favorite art style was the icing on the cake. Even the church clock, made by Thomas Cooke, who is renowned as one of the finest clock makers, is regarded as a national horological treasure. As we walked back to the car I looked up for one final look at the magnificent 141ft spire, added in 1869, and visible from the Isle of Wight.

Mum wanted me to see Lepe Beach, part of the New Forest, so we slowly drove across moors and through woodlands towards the coast. As well as the New Forest ponies roaming about, the locals are allowed to let their own horses, cattle and even donkeys have the freedom of the forest. Traffic has to give way to any of the animals, who seem to be fully aware of their privileges and will take their time crossing a road. The homes all have cattle grids or cattle guards in their driveways to protect their gardens but the animals roam freely into the villages and will lay down in front of village stores or pubs. It's strictly forbidden to feed them.

It was chilly and very blustery by the time we reached the beach. Only one other lady was walking alongside the sea, doing the exact same as me, picking up shells. Remains of wartime defenses can be seen here but my head was kept firmly down. The wind was fierce and Mum had once again opted to stop in the car, but for once I wasn't complaining. The shells I picked up the most was the painted top shell, a beautiful whorled shell, its glimmering mother-of-pearl colors which continuously cought my attention. I filled my pockets with shells and pebbles, scurrying back to the car once my eyes began watering and impairing my vision. Time to go home for a hot mug of tea!