I'M ON THE ROAD TO SOMEWHERE

Today we went to see Croyland (sic) Abbey, in the village of Crowland, just up the road from us. We've driven past it many times, but never stopped to explore.

You can just imagine how atmospheric it is at night, when it's all lit up, or on a foggy Fenland day.

Croyland Abbey was originally on an island when it was first established, allegedly in 714. I should point out that any information I give here may be inaccurate, as I accidentally picked up the French language guidebook, and haven't given French a second thought since leaving school.

If my interpretation is correct, then the abbey was founded by King Aethelbald of Mercia and refounded c.950 after Viking destruction. In 1066 it was the only abbey in Lincolnshire and was mentioned in the Domesday Book as owning wide estates. During the Middle Ages it was one of the largest and most important abbeys in Lincolnshire with an immense cathedral-sized church, and housed up to 40 Benedictine Monks.

Part of Croyland Abbey ruins remains open as a Parish Church.

There is a lovely Green Man in the ceiling. Unfortunately the camera I had on me has no zoom facility. It is important as Green Men are seldom, if ever, found in the Sanctuary, but in this case the ceiling was there before the altar.

Trinity Bridge in Crowland is possibly unique, and certainly an amazing curiosity. It is thought to have replaced a wooden bridge referred to in earlier times by the Charter of King Aethelbald (AD716) and by King Edred's Charter (AD943) as "the triangular bridge of Croyland". Built between 1360 and 1390, it has three arches but one over-arching structure, i.e. a three-in-one bridge, hence the Trinity.

Prior to the draining of the Fens, the main streets of Crowland were waterways, and this bridge marks the point that the River Welland divided into two streams.

Paul and Bex (Paul's daughter) gingerly make their way down - the bridge is very steep and cobbled and Bex had high heels on!

Richard Gough, an Antiquarian, is said to have stated that Trinity Bridge was "the greatest curiousity in Britain, if not in Europe".

The charming village of Crowland also has an old pub (recently closed down, alas) called the George & Angel - the only pub in England with that name.

On Saturday I went on a painting masterclass with Jayne Good, accompanied by friends Erica, Tracey, Jen and Jude (who paid for me as a birthday present. This is the result:

Obviously, it's not the finest painting in the world, or even of the day, and some might say it's more than slightly crap but, considering I haven't picked up a paintbrush since I was eleven, I'm secretly a tad proud. Yes, I know the mountains owe more than a little to a bar of Toblerone, but hey, there are few hills in Fenland, let alone mountains, and I can't remember the last time I saw a real one, so for a first attempt I don't think it's half bad.

My dad was a professional artist, and I grew up in a house full of art materials, but somehow I never got my hands on anything and on the rare occasions I did he would (with the best intentions) take control and finish it for me. He has been very generous, however, and offered to let me raid his studio and take some stuff to get started, if I so wish.

I am tempted to have another go.

BTW, as my friends will know, I promised a good friend just before he died that I would do at least one thing a year that scared the bejasus out of me. The prospect of picking up a paintbrush and making a complete arse of it did just that. Phew!

On the road to Bradford, I saw:

Two camels in a field.

A tree wearing a blue apron.

Three American Diners.

Memo to Asian girl in the Arkwright halls of residence at Bradford Uni: I can see no reason for you to expose both your breasts in the window of your room. They are not exceptional. I understand it is a regular occurrence, and my partner's 18 year old son and his room-mates find it quite amusing. However, if you are seeking attention, perhaps being known as the mad woman who exposes herself to her fellow students is not the best way to go about it.

Enough said.

Taken from the front of my new home.

Loads of bikes, loads of bikers, loads of fun.

All the way to Baldock on the back of the Buell and home again, and my bum feels like concrete.

I definitely need to buy myself a Harley. Next Spring.

Following a series of desperate disappointments and unacceptable delays, I'm parting company with Lilo 'Lil, aka Songbird.

I'm moving in with The Most Gorgeous Man in the World (no, OldNick, I don't mean you, so you needn't panic), and from 29th August will be starting another new life - this time in darkest Cambridgeshire.

I'm hoping I'll get my money back on the boat, although I've already accepted I'll lose out on the deal in the current financial crisis. Still, what's a few thousand quid compared to true lurrrrrrrve?

I'll be living in a lovely country cottage in a small village, surrounded by fields of wheat.

It's a shame about the boat, but some things are not meant to be.

And some things are.

Hopefully, when I'm settled (no more weekend driving, woo hoo!!!) I'll have a lot more time for blogging*

Can't wait

*Let's face it, there's bugger all else to do around Peterborough

1. Wanneroo - to which the answer is, of course, "No thanks, I'm trying to give them up". This is a suburb of Perth, Western Australia which is otherwise uninteresting.

2. Hinton Blewitt. Just who was Hinton and what was it he blew? I think we should be told. This is a small village in the Mendip Hills, Somerset.

3. Wyre Piddle. Why not? In the Cotswolds I believe.

4. Barrow Gurney. Again in Somerset. I just like saying it. Immortalised in the song "Drink up thy Zider" by the Wurzels.

5. Nempnett Thrubwell. Which got an honourable mention in the song "Up the Tump" by the Wurzels as the place the moon shines bright on (also in Somerset, as I would hope you've worked out for yourselves).

What are your favourites?

Off topic slightly, there is a district of Bristol called Stockwood. It has always been my dream to hold a pop festival there. Think about it.

At long last an account of my visit to Nieke and Uwe in Amsterdam.

When I'd asked Nieke if she wanted anything from England, she said she loved mature Cheddar and Stilton. Never did I think I would ever be taking cheese to Holland.

I was taken apart by Customs at Coventry Airport, and accused of having my makeup in the wrong plastic bag! It was all in bottles of the correct size, in a clear plastic zip bag, but the bag was not apparently of the correct dimensions. How this is supposed to prevent terrorism escapes me.

The plane was empty, so I had a choice of seating, and found a nice window seat on my own.

Arrived an hour late (as usual) due to Amsterdam weather, and was met by Nieke and Uwe at Schipol. From there we went straight to a lovely party held in the garden of one of Nieke's friends, a talented artist. Everyone made me very welcome and included me in the conversation even though they were mostly Dutch and German (two languages I never had much success with - I explained to Uwe that when listening to a conversation in Dutch or German I felt a bit like a dog: "blah blah blah blah biscuit blah blah blah blah bed blah blah walk"etc).

We left the party quite late and then went back to Nieke and Uwe's flat where we stayed up far too long chatting. I really like both of them, and felt I'd known them forever.

This is Nieke in the pub (taken at Steve's wake, which I couldn't attend as I was in India):

I fell in love with Nieke and Uwe's dog, Lutsje, who is the laziest dog in the whole world.

The next morning Nieke and I walked to the pub where I met Steve's "Dam" friends, and saw the table with his memorial plaque. Later in the day Uwe and Lutsje met us and we went for a drive to a lovely pub on a dyke with beautiful views, and had a drink. Unfortunately I was feeling a bit under the weather (too much Bols the night before) so didn't fancy eating, but the food looked delicious.

On the way home we stopped at a houseboat where one of Steve's friends lived, as he was storing a lot of stuff from Steve's flat. I came away with a huge box of photographs and some of Steve's paintings.

It was sad sorting through Steve's stuff. It makes you think when someone's life is reduced to a few cardboard boxes. Sorting through the photo's brought back quite a few memories and there were a few pics Steve had taken on his travels in India of places I visited just after his death where, on a couple of occasions, I thought I had felt his presence with me.

Nieke cooked a superb spag bol which rounded the day off nicely.

Nieke was so kind, helping me set up the laptop and downloading lots of movies for me to watch.

Regrettably, I didn't have sufficient time to visit Steve's grave, although I will return to Amsterdam as soon as I'm settled.

I left on Sunday armed with so much stuff I had to check a bag in. I managed to take three of Steve's smaller paintings, the laptop (with accessories) and ukulele he left me in his Will, and a number of photographs, plus a beautiful dress and skirt that Nieke had given me. I'd got on so well with Nieke it was a wrench to leave.

Got to Schipol just in time to check in, so didn't have much time to kill before the flight having been turned over by Customs again. Apparently the problem was that the metal detector was picking up on a small portable ashtray in my bag. This ashtray came back with me from South Africa but didn't cause me any problems then. However, on boarding I found myself in the worst seat on the plane, right in the tail opposite the toilet door, and slap bang in the middle of a returning stag party.

The young guy sitting next to me was scared of flying, and asked if he could hold my hand. The flight was quite bumpy (always exaggerated when you're sat in the tail) and the plane was lurching about a bit. He insisted on giving me all his leftover Euros, as he said he didn't intend to fly again. When we came to land he was extremely nervous, but I reassured him that there was no need to worry, at least not until the cabin crew started to cry. In fact, I said, my own fear would start only when my sister picked me up to drive me home. "She's bad?" he asked. "Oh yes" I replied.

Eventually I met my sister at the barrier, and as we walked towards her car the guy I was sat next to hurried over. "Is that your sister?" he asked me, and turning towards her he said "She says your a terrible driver and she's really scared of going in the car with you".

Thanks, mate. That's the last time I'm kind to a stranger.

I have a couple more pics still stored in my camera, so will post these later.

This is what we've all been waiting for (especially the shoe fetishists) - the marvellous and much talked about dancing shoes that Jude wore at her wedding.

Fab, huh?

Footwear aficionados will note the non-slip suede soles, vital in preventing that 'arse over tit' moment that can so wreck a couple's First Dance, and is guaranteed to end up on "You've Been Framed".

Thanks to Jude for this.

A most fantastic day was had by all, and it all went off without a hitch (a few close shaves though, including Jude nearly forgetting to wear her veil). Jude looked beautiful and her shoes were fab. The Groom and Best Man turned up, which is always a bonus, and Tracey did a great job in keeping her fellow bridesmaids in order (there were seven of us!), although at times she may have felt like she was competing in 'One Man and his Dog'.

The church was stunning. Jude looked beautiful and her shoes were fab.

I reckon it was one of the best days in my life, too! Jude looked beautiful and her shoes were fab.

Baby Grace made her first public appearance, and her mum looked beautiful.

Jude, with her customary artistic flair and magic, arranged it all perfectly. All the bridesmaids (including me, of course) looked fantastic.

Here's Erica:

The lady vicar was great fun.

The flowers were beautiful, and it was a two hanky job when Jude laid her bouquet on her grandparents' grave.

The hotel where the reception was held was superb. Jude looked beautiful and her shoes were fab.

The karaoke was underemployed, but we all enjoyed Jude's performances and her brother Chris's expert renditions of 'I am a cider drinker' and 'Ernie (he drove the fastest milk float in the West)'. Chris sang superbly at the karaoke and also in his performance of 'Fields of Gold' in church. I did 'You don't have to say you love me' which was very well received despite the fact I had forgotten how to sing.

The bride and groom's first dance was to '(I'll be loving you)Always' - one my favourite songs.

The highlight of the day for me, however, was when Jude sang 'That Old Devil Called Love' to Simon, and then called her mum and dad up to the mic and declared that if she and Simon were half as happy in their marriage as they had been she would be more than satisfied. She then asked them to lead the last dance, to the song they danced to at their wedding. Not a dry eye in the house, I assure you!

Unfortunately I had a problem with my camera, which meant that I didn't get to take a lot of pics, but I'm sure the other bridesmaids will be sending some of theirs so I may add some to the album later.

My thanks to the lovely Jane who put me (and a lot of other bridesmaids/guests) up over the weekend. She is very kind and generous person and a natural hostess. Also thanks to Jude's mum and dad, Meg and Bob, for their hard work and generosity in making this the great day to remember that it was. Jude looked beautifu... (Jude, can I stop this now? I think they've got the message!)

We're all looking forward to seeing the video that Chris was kind enough to shoot for us.

I'm sure you will all join me in wishing Jude and Simon all the very best for the future.

They're off to Turkey, lucky bastards.

On Thursday I travelled to London with friends Jude and Trina, to the MindBodySpirit Festival which is held near Victoria.

I drove up to Jude's in Leicester on Wednesday night but was so excited I didn't get a wink of sleep. Unfortunately we had to get up at 4 a.m., but thankfully Jude offered to drive. We wanted to get into London for about 10.30-ish. We'd planned to use the Park and Ride in Windsor and then get the train into London (via Slough) but due to traffic jams and train delays we arrived at our destination at around noon, just in time for David Wells's workshop on Past Lives.

I was not sure I would like David, who I only know from his appearances on 'Most Haunted', but took to him immediately. He is very warm with a great sense of humour. I was a bit sceptical at first but must say I was pleasantly surprised and, although I won't go into details here, I did actually have a very small past life experience! This was in no way influenced by David, so I cannot rationalise it.

Unfortunately Jude didn't get 100% from the workshop, as she was distracted by noisy schoolchildren in a playground outside.

After David's talk we snatched a quick and tasty - but pricey - lunch in the canteen, speed-smoked a cigarette and then ran up the seemingly endless stairs to Jill Purce's workshop on overtoning/chanting.

I love Jill and have attended her workshops before. I love her eccentricity and posh accent. She pioneered sound healing in the UK and she really knows her stuff. We did some great chanting including some beautiful mantras which were new to me. Overtoning is wonderful and if you ever get the chance then give it a go. I left the workshop buzzing and on a real high. I forked out £11 on Jill's new CD which I can use when I practice overtoning. I feel a bit self-conscious doing it alone and it must freak the neighbours out, so the illusion of being with a group will make me more inclined to do it more regularly.

We then had a good browse round the many and varied stalls, but I was very restrained and only purchased a colourful Ganesh sticker, which is now on the dashboard of my car for protection (two for a quid, so I gave one to my dad). The Festival entrance fee was only £6, with workshops at £8 each, so excellent value for money.

We watched a (free) performance by my hero and vocal guru, Chris James, which is always my main reason for attending the Festival. He has such an amazing voice, and is so charismatic.

Eventually got back to Jude's at around 11 p.m., where I had a swift cup of coffee before the long drive back, arriving home safely and in good time at just after midnight.

A long but very enjoyable and rewarding day, and if you live within spitting distance of London then I would recommend you go along if only to look round the exhibition stands.

PS: Damn, forgot my camera!

Not to see the Queen (although I'm sure she'd be honoured), but to visit the Mind Body Spirit exhibition.

I'll be taking my camera, and boastingblogging about it on my return.