Wherever you drive to in England, there is always an old ruined abbey, waiting to be visited. We found one in the Cotswolds. Hailes Abbey, founded in 1246 and long ago a celebrated site of pelgrimage.
The Cistercian abbey was founded in 1246 in Gloucestershire by the Earl of Cornwall in thanks for surviving a shipwreck.  Though never housing large numbers of monks, it held a renowned relic, ‘the Holy Blood of Hailes’ – allegedly a phial of Christ’s own blood.   After the dissolution in 1539 just a few of the cloister arches remained, together with the foundations of the church.  Today it is a beautiful and serene spot for a picnic in the Cotswold countryside and everyone in the family can be guaranteed an interesting, relaxed day out at Hailes Abbey. I found in fact two moms with babies, enjoying the grass fields and the arches.

The perfect spot for a summer picnic...

Or to have a romantic meeting. One could not ask for more.

Along the left over door ways and arches and stones, I’m close to imagine some monks coming up to meet me. They would be dressed in brown cloth, sandals on their feet, a shepherds stick, and a slightly devlish look in the eyes.

They always spook me a bit, the wax statues of Monks and likes found in musea. The above one was looking straight at me. I swear. Without blinking an eye...

The other brother had his eyes more on infinity. Which I prefer. I don’t like staring monks, nuns, priests, name it..

The small museum on the Abbey grounds shows us some treasures found at the excavation place, monks or not, they could build. How many times have I said that over the course of my travels in England.

With very primitive means, no power tools and no electricity, with only a simple pully system of wood and ropes, they managed to build up to the sky. In God’s honour, the most beautiful stone carvings I have ever seen.

It is amazing that details going back centuries still are so clearly visible. This one is depicting Christ fighting with evil. Evil being a crossing between a goat, lion and ram. Hard to tell. All we have to remember is that it is about the fight between good and evil. Always.

All over the site are the plaques telling us about historic facts or guesses. There was a class difference already in 1200, as we had monks and lay brothers. The latter being the work horses of the abbeys. They did the household while monks devoted their time to God and study. I think I would have been a better lay brother then a monk.
I could have worked at the abbey’s farm. Feeding the pigs, cooking some in the medieval kitchen. Not the heavy job of course like shearing sheep and herding them to market.
Even a lay brother has the right to an easy life.

The chapter house and the stuff going on in there would have been over my head. I do not see me sitting on those damp clammy stone seats, for hours in a row, listening to a head monk having his say. No ipods in that time to distract a little...

Mr Wonderful is studying all the plaques with an audio guide to his ear. I can’t do it. I can only do one thing at a time: snapping and following the audio tour is too complicated.
I usually ask Mr Wonderful what was going on if I need to know more. He is eager to tell me. We are matched...
And next to the ruined abbey lies a present day small church. More about that one in a next installment.
We have to spread the Godly stuff... It is strange that I am so attracted to old churches and ruined abbeys... if you consider my hate for nuns and priests.
Maybe my personal tiny God is hidden in between old stones... where silent voices still reside...

It really exists. A town called Chipping Campden. It sounds fairy tale like. And it felt that way when we entered it. We found a quick parking spot, as we were in not touristic season. I am afraid to think of the town in summer, when hordes and hordes of tourists find their way here.

It was a sunny day, and some of the locals were holding a meeting on the bench of city hall. Catching the good Indian Summer sun rays. It’s England remember, whenever you see sun, drop everything that you might be doing and go out. You can do anything in the house on rainy days.

The main street is lined with old honey coloured stone houses, with a lot of timber worked in, and breathing out centuries of stories and people passing by.
Buildings that got their place somewhere between the 14th and 17th century. History calls.
It could very well be the most beautiful village in the whole of Gloucestershire. (Say Glostershur), a real stepping back in time.

Public conveniences is another posh naming for a loo. If you need a wee, you follow Main Street into Sheep Street for a public loo.

The regional stone, small windows divided up, little alley ways who hide more streets.
I love the fact that in England, often towns breath harmony as all the houses and shops are in the shared unique style.
Often a quarry a couple of miles away delivers the rude stones for street and housing planning.

I wanted to come to Chipping Campden for the old covered Market Hall. A left over from the rich wool trade in medieval times. Built in 1627 it still holds its splendid arches and the interesting ceiling and floors of cobbled stones.

Strong oak beams holding the roof together and supported. The medieval builders could build, so much is sure. With a bit of imagination, I can see vendors and monks with sheep passing through the place, on a busy market day way back in 1570... I can smell the smell of food cooked on a small fireplace outside of the Market Hall, I can see important men dressed in strangler collars from house to house, to perform important business, trading big sums of money.

Little details on buildings with funny images. A goose carrying what seems to be a sheep. Nils Holgersson was here...
A kitty cat with stretched claws...
And a newer stone carving dating from 2000 to implement the previous stone carvings.

It’s wonderful, from which side you look at the Market Hall, it always has a new surprising look through to another part of the Main Street.

The arches throw nice shadows on the cobbled floor. The sun plays inbetween the stone columns.

It’s a town heavily relying on tourists, so it has its fair share of small antique shops, where I could easily brake my personal bank. I’d better not...

Shops find attractive ways to invite shoppers in. The flowered bike is on the edge of tacky in my eyes, but I can imagine that people do like it.

We pass the old Police station, pondering if the year is 1671 or 1871. Lets gamble on the latter. If we count in Victoria Regina next to the Crown.
Queen Victoria was loved by the people, and she has her name on many memorials all over England.

For once, I do not find the red postal box with VR inscripted, or GR, but a stamp machine. It looks battered and I do not see how it works. I still believe in going in to the post office and buy stamps from a real person. Not all things need to be mechanised.

Mr Wonderful joins me for High Tea in the Bantam Tea rooms, it’s all good. Tea, scones with clotted cream, jam... Yum. We enjoy ourselves.

Too soon we have to leave Chipping Campden, on our way to Stratford-Upon-Avon, home town of Shakespeare, we are not done yet touring the Cotswolds.

Back in the car, driving North, through lanes where the threes touch each other making a shadowed road. A fluked picture with a far too slow shutter speed, but it conveys the tunnel feeling we had driving towards the light!

More later!