Horses Of The Grass Verge

   There are many traditions that have been followed here in the fens for many generations, not all looked upon as healthy and in fact, some questioned strongly by many of us who now find certain country traditions barbaric, cruel and to say the least very unpleasant. We all know those extreme traditions such as Fox Hunting, Badger Baiting, Dog Fighting, Hare Coursing and Cock Fighting, many of which continue here in the fens as they do all over this country of ours.

   But here I'd like to talk about one tradition that has very mixed reactions, the use of roadside grass verges to graze horses and ponies. Since moving to the fens 18 years ago a very common sight in the spring and summer months is that of horses and ponies being tethered on these grassed areas by their owners and basically left there all day grazing on the grass. In every case I have seen their owners do supply water tubs for these beautiful creatures yet something makes me feel very uneasy. I have spoken on this subject to horse owners and each of them said they didn't like the way these horses were treated, being left out all day often in very warm weather and often with no shelter or shade at all. I know some people will say they look very healthy and it's no different to them being out in a paddock all-day and as long as the owners take them in at night and make sure they are given fresh water and additional food there is no problem, but what do you think?

   Next time you're out and about and you notice any ponies or horses tethered out, often piebald or skewbald have a little think about these beautiful creatures and if you feel ok with their situation and maybe like me, you'll take the time to stop and speak to them, I'm sure they enjoy human company.

Surrounded By Angels

   At last, after living here in Upwell for nearly 18 years I got chance to spend half an hour all on my own inside Upwell parish church of St Peter. Because of the Coronavirus up until the country was put on lockdown, a lot of village churches in the fens were opened daily for those who wished to spend some time alone or for those who wished to pray, this gave me the opportunity to go inside and take pictures of the wonderful famous angel roof.

   Many times I've been told of the amazing angel carvings that look down from high above the Upwell congregation who worship and pray weekly in this great stone house of god, but until now I hadn't taken the time to explore these heavenly winged figures.

   When you enter this Parish church you straight away see angels everywhere you look, quite a strange feeling, not an unpleasant one but it's like they are watching over you. The carving on these delightful angels is stunning, how long each piece took to finish must have been weeks rather than days and I'm sure all done by those who worked of in most cases the very minimum of pay and in many cases no pay. I think we all forget the hold that the church had over most villagers at this time and how demanding they were when it came to hard labour when building these parish churches.
   The windows too are a wonderful example of fine craftmanship in Upwell church, the colours and designs are really amazing, a standard usually found in the larger more well-known churches.
   If any of you get the chance to visit Upwell please try to find time to explore the inside of this wonderful parish church full of the most stunning angels, I promise you the feeling you get when standing there looking up at these heavenly figures is one that will stick with you for a while, a very unique feeling indeed.

Terrington St Clement

   At last, I found the time to visit and explore the first new village of the season, the lovely village of Terrington St Clement. The village sits in the great Marshlands that leads to the Wash, a large village with a good mixture of modern and historic buildings.

   Terrington St Clement is around 20 miles from my own village of Upwell and although this time of year it can be a rather cold journey with the cold marsh winds as ever blowing against me, I'm very much looking forward to cycling there in the warmer summer months. The first thing I noticed was a great selection of amenities that the village has, all the normal shops such as butcher, baker and general stores along with the more traditional village amenities like the village forge, barbershop and of course the local fish and chip shop. There are many other facilities such as schools, health centre etc.

   I think you all know me enough by now to guess I headed straight for the older part of the village and the parish church being the first target. Their church is very unique in that the main church building and the tower are independent of each other, only by a few feet but they are separate. I have only come across this once before while cycling the fens and that is at the great bell tower of West Walton near Wisbech, in that case, the gap between the two buildings in a matter of yards rather than feet.

   I will be heading off to Terrington St Clement more often this summer, the village seems such a friendly place with various places at which to spend time to rest and of course there are the marshes that lay just below the Wash to explore. So, all in all, a very nice village to visit, a very large parish that boasts both modern and historical buildings of interest and the friendly people of the marshes who I can honestly say gave me a warm welcome. I can only speak from what I found but I would strongly advise a visit, you will I'm sure have an interesting walk around the village.
 

Spring Peeks Around The Corner.

   It's been yet another wet and windy winter thus far and we are still not out of storm season. The country has taken and really hammering from the storms and so many people are flooded out of their homes as I write this blog, you can only feel for them. Yet on my cycles, I smile when seeing the river banks and hedgerows starting to show their wares, those beautiful clumps of Snowdrops, Daffodils and Primerose all adding that colour of early Spring to the fenlands of East Anglia.
   Running through Upwell and Outwell the banks of Well Creek are covered in Daffodils, yellows of every shade and still many many more yet to flower. It's this time of year when mother nature really starts her great show, a show that passes through Spring, Summer and the Autumn months until once more the colder months wrap around our fen cottages.

   My cycling through winter has stayed around the 20-mile mark each morning, my idea to just tick over until the finer weather is here. This last week I have started the longer journies, travelling up to the great marshlands that sit just below the Wash, such an interesting area full of character and one I hope to visit often this coming summer. This coming week I hope to visit Terrington St Clement when I will spend some time looking around the village and taking photographs ready to post here on my blog. I have been there before but never really had time to explore everything apart from their parish church which I must admit is very unique being in that the tower is separate from the main building, but I will explain and show pictures next week fingers crossed.

 

A Fresh Year

   As normal we all spent weeks getting ready for Christmas, cupboards and fridges bulging with food, cake tins full and a good supply of beverages awaiting that one special day. Now that day has passed and we begin the new year this old bead hermit has upped his exercise regimen, so now as well as the 20 mile cycle each morning there is now an hour walk each evening after work, I'm very determined to break that elusive 20 stone mark, was just a few lbs off on Christmas day so felt a bit dejected after all the hard work but I'm sure I'll get there soon.

  We had some crap weather leading up to Christmas with me getting soaked at least three times a week. Now the weather is a lot better, chilly but in the main dry with some winter sunshine, which I must say feels bloody great to have on my back again.

   There have been a few problems with the bike but touch wood these are now sorted and once more I'm back putting in the miles and enjoying the magical flatlands of the fens where the winters are hard, the winds are strong and the summers are hot.
   I would just like to wish everybody I know, those who read this blog and all the fen tigers a very Happy New Year and I hope you once again follow the journey I continue to travel in 2020.

First True Winter Frosts

   I can now say that winter is officially here, my old grandad would always tell me winter hasn't arrived until the "Hoar Frost" gets here and to me, yesterday was the first real thick frost we have had here in the fens. For the first time this winter my back wheel had a mind of its own on the ice-covered fen droves but nothing too serious and I made the 20 mile trip trouble free.

   The great Marsh Harrier who hunts just North of Emneth hung motionless in the cold currents high above me while Whooper Swans flew to their feeding grounds with their conversations clearly reaching my ears. Upwell wrapped in mist sat quietly with her parish church casting a huge dark figure on the bank of Well Creek. Only the lights of village shops such as Mr Tweed's butchers gave a little light to the morning, a morning when even my hand-warmers failed to fight the chill.

   The single yellow rose that still had hope even when covered in natures magical frosted diamonds was like so many of us, facing the inevitable and the river banks wore a coat of white with hem brushed by the gentle winter willows.

    The first ten miles were cold and dark but once the mist lifted and the blue skies spread wide and clear over the fens it was a real pleasure to be out there enjoying the cold but fresh November morning. Now I'm sure I face many more frosted fen cycles in the coming few months that will lead us into Spring again as they do every year.

Now I'm A Man

Now I'm A Man

    I came out here a boy, just a village boy who worked the soil and sang in church, a boy that rang the parish bells, enjoyed Sunday walks and one who would tease the girls of Morden. Just a Cambridgeshire boy that drank from the village pump and rode upon the harvest carts, a boy that watched cricket on the green, swung his scythe, stacked the hay and sat warming by yuletide log telling tales of Christmas past to his baby sisters. A boy I was, one who gleaned the hedgerows for summer fruits, collected bird’s eggs and enjoyed the village dance and in winter raw I would shovel snow and used a snare to fill the pot.
  Now, well now I'm a man, a man who wears the King's colours and fights the King's war, a man who looks out upon miles of mud, blood tinted cold ice-covered mud, a man who longs to hear the blackbird sing, who has worn the scent of another’s blood and has seen what no man should see. I’m just a man who dreads that whistle that signals the slow walk to death, a man who cries each evening while many a Tommy does sleep, one who trembles when the big guns roar and who eats from a tin held in mitten wrapped hands white with cold. Yes, I’m now a man who has witnessed gassed men choke and the mud-caked rats that share our beds while we dream of peace. A man who longs for news of home where the ground is rich with grass and no man lives in a hole littered with the rotting limbs of Tommy and Fritz, but most of all, I’m a man who wishes with all his heart he was still that boy.