The weather forecasters got it all wrong again, and we had glorious sunny weather with not a cloud or raindrop in sight. Which meant that Julie and I had a lovely time stomping around the ancestral villages of my Storr family. Scothern, Welton, Normanby by Spital, Hackthorn, Holton cum Beckering and Panton - quite a day. Hackthorn is where my gggg grandfather was born. Here, I'm standing by the gravestones of his father and his brother. It's a very beautiful village, and very small. Not as small as Holton cum Beckering, where my grandfather was born in 1902. Although there were only a handful of houses, it boasts a Grade 1 listed church. A very damp church as thieves had recently stolen the lead off the roof.
There was a fine Italian mosaic and marble reredos, and a 15th century porch, covered in moss.
And, outside a spectacular collection of grotesques, the most grotesque of which was this one.
By late afternoon we were driving down narrow, deserted, country lanes on our way to The Warren Farm, Panton where my grandparents lived in the mid 1960s. It's changed quite a bit since then but I had no trouble recognizing where it was - there is no street address to give the GPS thingie, so we were relying on an old fashioned map.
About 42 years ago, I fell off the wall you can see through the gap in the Leyland cypresses into a bed of nettles. I always liked walking on walls, but it did sometimes end in tears.We came back through Lincoln and looked around its Cathedral before having a very delicious supper at the Pie Shop on Steep Hill. It was much more glamorous than it sounds.
1 comment:
Ican remember when you and your brother John came to stay at my parents house the warren farm your Grandmother said you were a tom boy and always climbing then its all changed now but I bet you can still picture it as it used to be
ROSIE
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