Oh good Lord. Talk about forbearance. Does life get any harder than this?
To bear a long series of afflictions with pious fortitude while "waiting in joyful expectation for the glorious arrival of her dissolution" sounds like an urgent trip to the Walk-In is needed, followed by a long session with a therapist and maybe a couple of glasses of wine. How did these poor waifs make it through their lives, short and difficult as they were?
Today we are in Painswick, after hiking for about 4-5 hours through Sherwood (just kidding) forest. But truly, it was beautiful and the paths were carpeted with thick layers of beechnut leaves. There was a heady, spicy scent on the trails, and we continued to share our journey with the local gentry, usually with half a dozen dogs in tow. Bliss. We lost our way only once, when the Cotswold Way veered onto the Painswick Golf Course. I was more than intimidated as we crept down the fairways, vigilantly watching and listening for whistling golf balls coming our way, until we ran into a lady (and her dogs) who scoffed... Oh heavens! It’s only a golf course and no one plays on it anyway! Obviously not, as we noted a few Guernsey cows peacefully cudding on the 12th tee. GPS reported us on the wrong side of the fairway but a helpful gent (and his dog) soon put us right and we descended the last mile or two into Painswick without further problems.
Just look at this village - it is listed in the Domesday Book and very little has changed since.
After we arrived and stowed our gear, we wandered the grounds of nearby St. Mary’s church, feeling reverent and awe-struck. In fact, I want to go back there tomorrow to take more in. It is recorded to have been on this site since circa 1200 but probably even before then, possibly during Neolithic times. It is on the convergence to two underground streams and was likely a sacred place of worship. It amazes me how tangible and touchable the history is here. No line ups. No entry fees. Just friendly, helpful, proud locals who are eager to share their history. If you want to see the hand-woven alter cloths from the 1200s, no problem, just draw the curtains back and enjoy. Ancient tomes are there to admire, and intricate woodwork, stone carvings and timeless altars are all within reach. Most of the graves are crumbled and the inscriptions illegible but there is still a set of stocks anchored close to the court gate across from the churchyard. My feet were too big to fit; were these for children? I thought bad kids were simply baked into pies!
We’re staying at the Falcon Inn, circa 1700, and although the floor only has a few dips, the ceiling above us has a distinct bowing to it. Meh, it’s survived for over 300 years, so what’s one more night, right? Obviously, no jumping on the bed.
Door knockers continue to be irresistible to me:
And this... beautiful, peaceful, sweet village window.
Tomorrow - Carlton Kings, which means we are more than half-way on our journey. Such a trip this has been.
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