John's Adventures In John's

At St John's College they charge you £4 to enter. A man at the gate takes your money and hands you a leaflet. It tells you where you may go and what you should notice.

The Front Gate dating from 1516

Many signs tell you where you may not go. Areas are roped off. Members of the college only. Visitors this way.

The nineteenth-century Chapel

the work of Sir George Gilbert Scott

Having duly noted the statue of the foundress of the college, Lady Margaret Beaufort, and the outline of the former chapel which can be seen on the lawn, I then duly missed the sign which said No Photography In The Chapel.

A smartly dressed man appeared out of the shadows and told me not to take any more photos. I mumbled incoherently like a schoolboy caught looking at pictures of naughty ladies. He didn't say what I should do with the photo I'd already taken.

A blend of old and new

I scuttled out into the sunshine of Chapel Court, noted all the features which the leaflet advised that I should note, and made my way along the designated route to Third Court and the famous Bridge Of Sighs. Here, rather surprisingly, one of the college staff greeted me warmly and pointed me towards the location of a conference on comparative religion! My camera was stuffed in my pocket at the time and, with my spectacles, long greying hair and wild beard, I can only assume I was mistaken for some visiting eccentric academic.

Inside the Bridge Of Sighs

Thus emboldened I wandered past the signs which were trying their best to divert me away from the Bridge Of Sighs and surreptitiously took a few snaps. The bridge gets its name from its somewhat tenuous similarity to a bridge of the same name in Venice - both are covered bridges. But, whereas the Venetian version leads from the courts of justice and was covered to prevent sentenced criminals throwing themselves into the canal, the one here was covered to stop raindrops pattering down on the heads of the privileged. 

It's a beautiful structure nonetheless and can be seen to best advantage from neighbouring St John's Bridge, this is the way you're supposed to go. And from here you go to Queen's Road, go directly to Queen's Road, do not pass go, do not sneak into any buildings along the way, do not go by devious routes in order to take nice pictures.

New Court

You go past New Court, which is actually 180 years old, and for me always the epitome of the College Backs though it is not without its architectural critics. There were signs for the Conference pointing into New Court, so in my new persona of The Rev Dr John Blogger, Emeritus Professor of Applied Misidentification, University Of Stargoose and Hanglands, I went investigating.

The cloisters leading from the Bridge Of Sighs

A man who looked very much like a former Member Of Parliament nodded in a friendly way as he hurried past. I carried on to the modern Cripps Building.

Since I didn't want to end up in a religious conference I beat a hasty retreat but then couldn't resist wandering round the huge lawns that back down on to the river. 

A delightful young lady was making a delightful sketch of the scene. I couldn't help noticing her despite the guidebook failing to give her a mention.

"Over Bridge Of Sighs

to rest my eyes in shades of green,

Under dreaming spires

to Itchycoo Park that's where I've been"

I followed the path around and exited through the obvious gate. It had an obvious sign on it  "Members Of The University Only".

Take care.   

Waterlines

Pictures of a river,  

its shimmering, beckoning call,

its quiet, still moments,

and its rushing turmoil.

  

Where things may grow

and things are shed.

But still it surges quietly forward.

   

We gently float on its surface,

or we struggle in the deluge,

till we reach a standstill

never quite aware of how beautiful it really is.

Take care.

Cars Among The Gravestones.

At the weekend I was lucky enough to visit my local church. Not for the Sunday service, not even to explore the architecture and monuments, but to attend a car show. So, although I've done a few posts recently looking at vintage vehicles, I intend to show you some of the highlights - or at least the ones that I noticed and photographed; as always when I got home and looked at the programme of the event I realised that there were several exhibits to which I should have paid more attention!

Our parish church, Holy Trinity,

and in the foreground an Austin Landaulette, 1934.

A rare beast,

An "Argyll" made in Scotland in 1905.

It has a French-made 4-litre engine.

Cost £560 including lamps and tools.

(accessories, such as windscreen, were extra).

The senior citizen amongst the many old-timers.

Peugeot Type from 1902 (that's 110 years old!), top speed 25mph.

How about a Roller, sir?

A Rolls Royce Phantom 1927.

This one was made to order for

His Highness The Maharana Of Udaipur.

This Austin-owner displayed his picnic set

on the back seat.

Redolent of a golden age of motoring.

One careful owner?

The other end of the spectrum,

A modified Ultima GTR

capable of  0-60 in 3 seconds

and a top speed of 205mph!

That's it, tick them off

 so you remember what you've seen!

But I was hoping to find a particular

motorcycle.

Jim, aka Wayfarin' Stranger, and I recently

had a correspondence about Vincent motorcycles,

particularly a song about a Vincent Black Lightning 1952.

The Black Lightning was a racing version of the bike above

which is actually a

Vincent Black Shadow 1954.

Vincents were made in Stevenage, just down the road from here

and regularly turn up at shows. 

This one still rides beautifully despite being

58 years old.

That's all, folks.

Take care.

Sunshine And Stones

Who, on a beautiful day like this, would take time out from a leisurely bicycle ride through the English countryside to poke about in village churches? Well, I did. And I'm glad I did too. I had no intention of doing this as I set out and I had no prior knowledge of what I was about to encounter, but a theme emerged nonetheless. First of all there's Fowlmere Church...

....a pleasant enough building but nothing to really grab the attention. But hey, what's this?

The monument to Sir William Mitchell by Thomas Adey. Sir William died in 1745 at the age of 43. That's  him depicted in the centre of the group. The figure on the right is thought to represent his wife though she appears to be rather informal and relaxed for a mourner, with her legs dangling in mid-air! The cherub on the left just looks bored with the whole affair. However there's no doubting the quality of the work. 

There is an inscription in Latin (and a handy translation) which tells you that he was "..sprung from the noble family of Bennets of Babraham, which he himself rendered more illustrious by his excellent gifts of mind and fortune". Furthermore his wife, Elizabeth, "..was a woman endowed with virtues rare in one of her sex, in that she had a man's sharpness of intellect and a mind well-suited to scholarship"

And on that teasing note I shall go out once more into the sunshine to pedal on to Haslingfield and a church I've passed countless times but never investigated. I even had friends who lived in the cottage by the church gate.

There were many interesting features including a painted ceiling (just visible in the picture below) and another elaborate memorial.

In fact there are several memorials and tombs to various members of the Wendy family. The most famous of them was Dr Thomas Wendy (d. 1560) who was Royal Physician to Henry VIII, Mary I and Elizabeth I and, although he was buried here, his tomb was removed when the church was restored. His nephew, Sir Thomas, entertained Elizabeth I when she stayed in Haslingfield in 1564. He kneels opposite his wife on his elaborate memorial with his son, Sir William and his wife. 

In a niche stands another Sir Thomas Wendy (d. 1673) looking sadly down. Dressed in contemporary clothes, it is a very early example of this type of monument. Incidentally you shouldn't take too much notice of those who say that the forename "Wendy" was invented by J M Barrie. Firstly it may be from the Welsh "Gwyn". But there's also a village called Wendy near here (from which presumably the Wendy family took its name) and Wendy was used as a forename, albeit for males, by another prominent family in the area.

Now on to the neighbouring parish of Harlton and on entering the church there was immediately something unusual to be seen - the rood screen was made of stone; something I've never seen elsewhere.

And (you've spotted the theme by now, I'm sure) there's a magnificent monument to Henry          Fryer, who died in 1631. That's him below; he doesn't look well, does he.

He is depicted wearing armour, kneeling between his parents, with his father dressed in robes to indicate that he was a physician. Henry's wife reclines below. They are flanked by mourning figures, the one on the left drying his eye with the hem of his garment.  

"Encloister'd in these piles of stone

The reliques of this Fryer rest,

Whose better part to heaven's gone

The poore man's bowels were his chest

And 'mongst these three, grave, heaven, poore,

He shar'd his corpse, his soul, his store." 

But the sun is shining in through the east window, beckoning me out once more into the glorious sunshine of this September day.

Take care.

Windows Of Opportunity

The fascination with windows continues:

Psychedelic pshadows!

The modern look:

clear but complex.

Hiding.

Winking windows.

A multi-faceted view of a Cambridge park.

Lord Fairhaven's outlook.

Street-art:

high-quality street-art.

Hidden!

For more fascinating window posts click here.

Take care.