Fen Churches

   When cycling around the fens and visiting different villages I always try to look around the parish church, not because I'm a religious person, far from it, but because I adore the many skills that were brought together in building such places. When I think of the poor craftsmen who worked from dawn until dusk and the tiny wage they would earn I get a great feeling of sadness come over me. Yes, there are some Victorian churches of which more respected craftsmen were used but with the Medieval churches, these labourers and craftsmen were so afraid of the church that they were basically used as slave labour. Thankfully these days we are more educated so the threat of being punished by God that hung over their heads is not now present and no priest can punish us for refusing to attend their services or can order us to work on their great houses of worship.

   So for me, the only reason I look around these great stone buildings is to admire the work of the stonemasons, the carpenters and the glass artists who produced the stunning windows that tell stories of the bible.
   There are many fine examples here in the fens, some large and ornate, others in dire need of repair like the leaning parish church in Friday Bridge. Luckily most churches in this area are unlocked during the summer months so it's easy to gain entrance, there are a few where I have yet to see inside but I hope next summer I can correct that and will discover more beautiful carvings in both stone and wood.

   The Marshes have their own beautiful churches including the "Cathedral of the Marshes" at Walpole St Peter with its unique tunnel under the nave and the amazing huge stain glass windows that project stunning light shows upon its interior walls.

   Over at the Washes you find the smaller village churches, often Victorian like that of the village of Welney. These churches are often built of brick and alas lack the many beautiful carvings found in those churches from the early and late medieval periods.
   I hope to use the next post here on my blog to show some of the wonderful carvings I've uncovered inside some of these great stone houses of god and further posts on the subjects of stained glass windows and graveyards. I hope you all take a few minutes to look around your local churches and don't forget you need not be religious to admire the work of those who were often forced to build these buildings of grandeur.

My Poppy is Red

My choice of poppy is red and will always be so, not because I'm trying to glorify war or I don't seek peace in this mad world, but out of respect to all those who laid down their lives for us to have such choices as to what colour poppy we wear. For those who wish not to remember the likes of Frederick George Covington who was literally blown to pieces on New Years Eve 1917 in mud-filled no man's land that is your right and one, he and many other Tommies gave to you.  For me, well he was not just my great uncle but he is also my hero and I wear that red flower of remembrance with pride not just for Frederick but for every man, woman and beast that has lost their lives protecting us.

   Whether we wear a poppy of red, white or any other colour I'm sure those we lost would respect our choice as they were forced to face hell in many ways to present it to us. I do and always will remember them.

The Forgotten Fens

   One thing that sadly seems to litter the fens is the huge amount of derelict cottages and farm buildings, I always wonder who lived in those little fens homes, what farm implements rested in those old outbuildings and the reasons why they now stand empty, in many cases covered in those green overcoats that only mother nature can produce.

   I must admit when you're in the middle of a long cycle covering new ground there is nothing better than stumbling across some long lost building whether made of those beautiful old Bedford White bricks or aged timbers grey and home to lichen and rusted handmade nails with square heads.

   I know there are many reasons why such buildings are still standing, some being listed, others being the home to nesting bats, owls or other wildlife and in some cases, the landowner just finding it hard to permanently delete the memories that they may hold. But whatever the reason to the likes of me they hold so much historic value like small windows through which we can look into the past when the fen tigers went about their hard lives.

   The next time you're out travelling the fens keep your eyes peeled and I'm sure you too will uncover a few forgotten gems left decaying from the old fen world, a world when great pike swam the dykes, eels occupied the reed beds and punt guns slowly crept towards the great flocks of waterfowl.

 

Bert Still Here But Not So Heavy

   I guess some of you will think the title of this post doesn't make sense but to some, it will. When I first started cycling and people asked why it was such an effort for me to cycle just a few miles, I would always answer that with my weight it was like having another guy on my back, as everyone calls me Rob yet my name is Robert I called him Bert. My aim was to get rid of Bert through diet and exercise until I was the size of one guy, not two, Rob and not Robert I guess. Well, the update is a good one, I'm now at my lightest weight for probably 20 years having lost just under 7 stone, helped by a sensible new healthy diet and a summer of cycling, on many occasions twice a day. I know to most I'm still that fat guy who cycles by each morning and still I notice those odd people who laugh as they pass by in cars but hey, every little snigger drives me on and now I'm starting to feel my old self once more.

   With the autumn months now well and truly here and winter just around the corner, I promised myself that this winter there will be no easing off on the cycling side, whatever the weather I'm still out there every day putting in the miles and apart from the snow I'll carry on doing so. My new target is to reach or break the 20 stone mark by the new year, if I break it it will be the first time I've been under 20 stone for 30 years, a great incentive if ever there was one.
   So that's the weight update done and I hope more good news in the new year. Before I sign off I would like to thank everybody who has given me support on this journey so far, I really don't think I'd have gotten this far without it, the great comments I get on the posts, the interest you show for the villages I explore and the kind words of support about my weight loss, thank you all.

Sleeping Tigers

Sleeping Tigers

Men of the reed beds who walked the marshes and dykes, great eel fishermen who sat twisting willow while telling tales of monster catches and the men of the marshes who rode the punt gun coil and netted plover. The millers who fought the great winds and controlled the waters, the skaters who raced upon frozen marshes and the carters who took fruit to the fen capital.
The women who picked the apples from ancient orchards and soft red gold from strawberry fields, the fen wives who swept the dirt floors after winter floods and the mothers who lost their sons and husbands in foreign fields.  All sleep under October sun alongside the lost children and babies who lived such short lives and left hearts broken never to repair, sleep safe and sound fen tigers, sleep safe and sound.

 

The Pumpkin Harvest

   It's that time of year again when what can only be described as millions of pumpkins lay ready for harvesting on the dark soil of the fens. The trailers will rumble through our village just as they do every year, their load one of huge boxes full to the brim with those beautiful gems of autumn fare on their way to supermarkets and shops all over the country.

   The pumpkin harvest is one that lasts only a matter of weeks and one undertook mainly by the young Eastern European workers who now work the rich soils of East Anglia all year round. So when you're carving your Halloween pumpkins you will remember where they may have been grown and all the hard work needed to harvest them.

Hedgerow Harvest

   One of the great plusses about cycling around the fens is watching the seasons change, from the cold frost covered mornings of December and January to the warm sun-filled mornings of mid-summer and one time of year I look forward too is the hedgerow harvest. When we enter August and the thoughts of autumn are starting to wander into our heads I'm out there searching through that beautiful natural larder that mother nature hands us each year. The hedgerows are like a foragers supermarket with a huge variety of fruits, nuts and herbs. For me, it's the fruit that fills my backpack from the tiny wild plums to the lager cooking apples that seem to have self-set beside many roads and lanes.

   This year seems to be an amazing year for wild fruit, the blackberries are everywhere, I myself have stood for hours picking them for the freezer. The number of wild plum trees I'm sure is growing each year, I must pass a hundred on my travels here in the flatlands and of course, the Elderberries are everywhere, perfect for jams and wine.

   I must mention it's not just fruit that I gather this time of year, with a lot of the basic food crops grown here in the fens it's now that the potatoes and onions are lifted which means many of these left laying at the edges of fields and roadsides, so I do glean a few just as folk did when I was a kid.