|
 Log in |
Register
|
|
|
Fieldnotes
| An uncharacteristic trip east far beyond the Peak district, hah !! Norfolk laughs in the face of the Peaks easterlyness. It still took a yawning three hours to get here, and this was the only destination on the list (except Sherwood forest on the way back). It was Saturday morning in early June and we had the entire site to ourselves, which was nice. We bought our tickets and went straight to the shed that houses the stairway to below, which threw the guide a bit as most people have a look around first, but not me, time for chilling amongst the sleepy hollows later, right now I want my mind blowing, and Grim was the man for the job. Our lad Eric chickened out and wouldnt go down, so me and the wife took it in turns, she went first, she came back up 5minutes later with a glazed look on her face, and said "uummm that was cool" . I'll be the judge of that said I, then the earth swallowed me whole and I was in a different world. The air was cool down below and I was all alone, the only sound was the tour guide many feet above me wittering on about the Iceni no doubt, what do they say about a bit of knowledge? I settled into the place and explored as fully as possible every nook and cranny. I really liked the well worn floor under the stoop, but I only hope ancient feet made it and not some self important victorian dudes. Hayley was right, it was cool Time to go back up top side, half way up is a line of big black flint nodules still poking from the mine walls, then when light starts to make a come back so does the mosses and ferns. The tour guide was just telling Eric how the miners were six year old children and it only took one summer to fully excavate and fill back in again. My spidey (bollocks radar)sence tingling we exited the shed and the guideman sent us in a easterly direction towards Boudiccas mound where she may or may not have adressed her native followers to expel those dreadful Romans. She's understandably a major theme round here as this was centre of the Iceni home turf. More than four hundred mines, thousands of buttercups and a handfull of singing birds chilled me right out after too. Why not visit Weeting castle afterwards a delightful ruin amongst strong mature trees ,we did, which was nice. |
Posted by postman3rd August 2009ce Edited 3rd August 2009ce
|
Comments (2) |
|
|
great fieldnotes Mr P. It's so long since I've been there I can barely remember it but your excitement makes me want to dash back. Six year old children indeed. That guide wants to go down one of the coal mines my grandad did some time in - he had to squeeze into some unfeasibly small spaces to get at the face. Small space doesn't necessarily equal child? |
Posted by Rhiannon4th August 2009ce |
| Seeing as our dads were in the RAF, part of me wants to say my grandad was a miner too, but he wasn't, he was a baker. |
Posted by postman 4th August 2009ce |
| You must be logged in to add a comment | |
Top of page