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Published: January 13th 2009
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Salisbury Cathedral
View of the cathedral over the River Avon. The word 'Avon' comes from the Welsh 'Afon', which means River. So, this river is really called The River River. The English language, beautiful. One of the things I loved the most about the English village of Frome was pronouncing it. Please, take the time to say it aloud: Frome, Frome. FRRRROME. What a warm and homely sound it has. I hope you actually did say it out loud, because I am about to tell you something that you won't believe. But first, some background information.
I left London with four days off and told anyone who'd listen that I was heading to Frome (Frome, Frome..) where I was visiting Gary and his lovely family. If you're wondering where Frome is, it's down in that little corner of England near Stonehenge and Bath - two places I was very keen to see for myself. Frome, Frome, Frome, make yourself at home. (If you're wondering who Gary is, he's a friend of my Mum's and the Godfather of my brother.)
Gary picked me up in Warminster when a very delayed train ride had me arriving after night had fallen, along with the temperature and the snow. We chatted for a while and after a silence, I asked him:
"So how long until we're in Frome?"
"We'll be in
Froom in about 5 minutes,"
Tank Crossing
You may think this is one of my pictures from Israel, but actually it was on the way to Stonehenge. Maybe taking the tunnel WAS a better idea. Apparently there is an army base nearby. he replied, subtly correcting my ignorance.
Froom? My mind was racing, confused, angry. What did he mean Froooom? I've been a long time student of the English Language. It looked pretty clearly like 'Frome' to me.
Gary explained. Frome had a large farming influence over the years, wool, cloth etc, and as the country farmers all talk like pirates, they would call it Froooooommme. Still rhyming with 'home', but drawn right out. Oooh, aaarrrrr, Frroooome. Just like the mooing of a cow. Froome. As the farmers drew their ooohs, aars and Froomes out further and further, the townsfolk mistakenly took it for Froom (or Frume), and it caught on and still remains. I'm not entirely sure this is how the story went, but I quite like it, so I'm sticking with it.
Frome - it grew on me very quickly. Frooooom. Imagine the fun I had when I met the lady who directs and stars in the local plays. Apparently she'd recently done a production of The Wizard of Oz, with the tagline 'There's no place like Frome'. I could do better than that. I suggested she consider 'Indiana Jones and Temple of Frome' or 'Lara Croft
Proper Attire for the Cathedral?
I think not. In fact, the woman inside said 'Please remove your hat inside the cathedral sir (as lovely as it is).' - Frome Raider.' The possibilities seemed endless. (I didn't actually meet her, I just saw her from a distance, but this is exactly what I would have said to her.)
Now the title of this blog has a much more wonderful ring to it, doesn't it? A room in Frome. And that's exactly what I had for a refreshing 4 days. Let me tell you about it.
Froom (I interchange) is a wonderful village, inspired by the arts and relished by artists. It seemed to me as if everyone was a painter, a decorator, a singer. In fact, Van Morrison frequents the area and has a recording studio around the corner. I kept an eye out for Van, even though I didn't know what he looked like. Gary told me he was a grumpy old guy, so I imagine he was lurking somewhere on the dark side of the road. Gary (who was like a village celebrity after returning from a year in Australia) took me around and showed me the sights. It was exactly how you'd imagine a village in England if, say, your older brother made you watch old English comedies set in Ballykissangel or Dibley
all the time. There were little shops where you could weigh and then buy your herbs and spices, there were little cemeteries, the roads were big enough for only one car at a time, the parents all gathered after school. It was a real community. It was the complete opposite of London.
And the people - what I loved about the people was that most of the locals were crazy. Not crazy as in talking about internet dates they'd had with scissor wielding strangers, but more like it was the kind of place where you could get away with wearing a full-bodied monkey suit (attachable head included) whilst visiting Stonehenge and Salisbury Cathedral. This was my kind of place.
A few words about Stonehenge first (and that's all I'll need...) The Henge is definitely worth visiting, but for how long was almost a greater debate than the mystery that enshrouds the rocks themselves. Would it be rude to leave after 5 minutes? (Perhaps). Should we pay to get to the other side of the wire fence? (No). Do you really need more than one photo? (Probably not).
If you ever find yourself at Stonehenge, I suggest you
Oliver Gee's view
Oliver Gee. Now if I google my name, I find myself. Oliver Gee. Please note, Sol made this scarf for me (he's the one dressed as a monkey). save yourself £6.50 and stay on the outside of the fence. As far as I can tell, all you get from the fee is a slightly closer look at the stones and you get to walk through a tunnel under the road rather than dodging the traffic as you cross it. With the money you save, bacon sandwiches and coffee at a nearby Salisbury cafe become an option that might not have been possible before.
And Salisbury (not pronounced Sall-iss-berry, but Sauls-bree - probably those crazy farmers again) was in fact our next destination as we were off to see the Saulsbree Cathedral. We froomed through a flurry of snowflaked frenzy on the way, with the kids beside themselves with excitement at the falling snow, and me, deep down, probably more excited. I don't know what it is about falling snow, but there's something wonderfully novel about it which makes me want to run around like an idiot. Must be the Australian in me.
We saw the enormous spire of the cathedral before we arrived, and made our way towards it until we came upon it suddenly. It was magnificent. Too big to fit in one photo without
Stained Glass Window
Inside the cathedral, halfway to the top. 150 steps to go... walking to the other side of the field. If you’ve never been inside a cathedral, and never read
The Pillars of The Earth then you probably couldn’t understand the brilliance of a 751 year old cathedral - whether it had the tallest medieval spire in Europe or not. (Click on that link to read more about the book, as I highly recommend it)
I took the two hour tour of the Cathedral with Gary and his two kids, with an old man as our expert guide who wistfully covered his deaf ears as the clocks struck three about 2 metres from where we were sitting. It was difficult to comprehend how the hundreds of people had all worked to complete such an enormous building over 28 years, but spectacular to be able to appreciate it from inside - all the way to the top.
I suppose it's about now you're wondering why my travelblog entries never really teach you anything, so here is the fact of the day for you to contemplate: Have you ever noticed how the spiral staircases in Cathedrals always ascend in a clockwise fashion? And therefore descend anti-clockwise? Any idea why this is?
No? Well, as our
trusty guide told us, it is because during times of battle, a right handed sword wielding soldier and defender of the building is at a clear advantage on his way downstairs, easily plunging his longsword into any hapless attackers unlucky enough to be on the way up. Imagine swinging around the corner holding on with your left hand, and stabbing with your right. Makes you wonder how useful a lefty was in the olden days. Not very, I'd wager.
With so many facts and figures in our brains, it was time to head home in the cold, refreshed from the air we'd breathed at the top of the cathedral. It was back to school for the kids the next day, and the whole of Bath to discover for Gary and me.
I realize I haven't mentioned the kindness of Gary, or how Gary's family isn't crazy (as I've realized this blog entry seems to accuse the whole town being crazy) but then I wouldn't have anything to say in part two of this Frooman saga. Coming soon.
And for recaps sake...
Fact of the day: Anti-clockwise staircases for downhill fighting by right-handers.
Advice of the day: Never
Window art
For a fiver, you could engrave a message into glass and have it put up during the refurbishment in 1990. pay for the Henge
Book of the entry: Pillars of the Earth.
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No 2 fan! but most important!
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Great read and thoroughly enjoyed this one...wish I was there too! Loved the swords and staircases......very funny!! xxxx's