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Published: March 20th 2019
Gabby and Sion are on the road again and it is a good feeling. It's about time too. Time has been flashing past us and we are been too preoccupied with our house sale. We needed a well deserved break and this would give us a good chance to test things out in Gabby and carry out a shake down trip. We loaded Gabby up with clothes, food , essentials and non essentials. We forgot coffee - need to add that urgently to a list of things to buy. The weather wasn't kind to us . A touch of snow which turned the tarmac white. A scrap off of the ice from the windscreen . Then there is the wind and the rain. Every day heavy rain and wind that raced through the trees like an express train through a train station. Storm Eric had arrived and was playing havoc with Spring. Storm Eric - who on earth named a storm Eric? The Irish meteorologists that's who. Now tell me when on earth was the last time you heard someone called Eric? The last one I knew was a friends father in the late 50's and 60's. A name that went
out of fashion like Ernest and Herbert. Perhaps they will be a touch more imaginative with the next storms name.
Our journey was uneventful. The plan was to stop at a local pub just outside of Hereford before we parked up at Cuckoos Corner in the delightfully named village of Moreton under Lugg. Conversation flowed along the way. Would we manage to get into Hereford this time? Last time the weather was awful and the heater packed up . What about our house sale? Another viewer had called around. An elderly couple with their house on the market wanting to downsize. Downsizing to our property perhaps would be a step too far from them we thought. We didn't stop at the pub. It was too early. . Arriving at Cuckoos Corner we were ushered to our plot number 2 by our very genial host. A well equipped small site with good electricity points, water taps, good free WiFi , a fridge a microwave , shower rooms to die for and books to borrow . Best of all a bus to Hereford from the end of the road.
First thoughts of the town. A bit down at heel. The
usual empty shops. We felt a little disappointed at first but eventually we found ourselves in an open main pedestrianised square where a market was in full swing. We stopped off at a coffee shop where I drank the oddest tastest espresso I have ever tasted. Far more bitter than any decent Italian coffee.
Our destination was Hereford cathedral, the Mappa Mundi and the Chained Library. On the way down we had mulled over the question of which was the finest cathedral we have ever visited . St Marks Venice came out top followed closely by Cordoba with its Islamic influences. Further down the line came Orvieto, Siena and Ravenna. Hereford was not in contention - well not until we walked through the doors. The cathedral had been a place of worship since the 8th century. Dedicated to two saints - St Mary the Virgin and St Ethelbert the King. The current church was built in 1079 and the Norman influence was evident from the large columns which divided the 12th century nave from the side aisles and patterns on the stonework on the arches high up. The patterns of the arches were reflected in a golden corona made
by Simon Beer in 1992. It glistened and gleamed against the dark interior of the church. The verger told us about the corona which represented in its candles the number of churches in the diocese of Hereford. We walked through the quire which although beautiful was roped off from the altar. We could only view from afar. One chapel was dedicated to St Ann and was decorated with modern tapestries designed in 1976 by John Piper. The whole church seemed a mixture of very old and fairly modern. Sculptures and stained glass commemorated the SAS who had been based in the town. As we continued our walk it became clear that the cathedral was not as dark as we thought. Light poured in through the modern stained glass and illuminated every inch right into the corners.
We climbed down into the musty damp crypt were ancient tombs lined the walls and brass effigies on the flagstone floor. Icons had suffered the ravages of time and weather. There was a Lady chapel with a shrine to Ethelbert and one to the final resting place of St Thomas of Hereford. The colours were vivid and bright and gave some kind of
an idea of the style of a medieval shrine. All primary colours - reds , greens and vivid blues. Slightly garish but probably just as it would have been originally.
Our final call was to see the Mappa Mundi and the chained library. It cost £6 each to visit and worth every penny. Set on a wall in a darkened room it is the largest surviving world map from its time. Once our eyes got used to the darkness and adjusted we could see the map clearly centred on a world view of Jerusalem being the centre of the known world. Around Jerusalem we could pick out Antioch and Bethlehem. They were held in greater esteem than Rome. Biblical tales were depicted - the Tower of Babel, Lot with his wife turned into a pillar of salt. The Red Sea. East to the top of the map and Paradise roughly where China is to be found on a modern map. We scoured the map for Constantinople, we found Venice , a tiny British Isles with London mapped out. We spotted Paris and Aachen, the Mediterranean with Italy Africa, Crete and the Minotaurs Labarynth. Mandicors and fantastic beasts, unicorns and
Noahs Ark. They were all there . The map enthralled us and we just stood in front of it not wanting to move on. Every time we looked we found another Biblical tale or Roman site , It was a map that never stopped giving.
The chained library held manuscripts illuminated by monks . The tiniest of writing . How they produced them I could not ever imagine. So small were the letters. The books were chained to the library shelves . We wandered round and then found ourselves back at the map. We couldn't tear ourselves away from it . Why should we ? It was worth every penny of the entrance fee . It was one of the most wonderous things we have every had the priviledge to view. An insight into the medieval mapmakers world.
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Jackie Dance
non-member comment
re who calls anyone Eric these days?
I know two Erics who are under 2 years old. One is Simon Cowell's son, and the other is the grandson of a really old friend of mine who so happens to live in Hereford, how is that for coincidence!