Exeter's Cathedral

Exeter was our entrance and exit to Devon.  We only stayed one night, before flying to Jersey.  It is memorable to us as the city with the lovely old cathedral, and as the city where we walked miles out of our way to visit a laundromat.

On first entering a cathedral I am always amazed by the grandeur and godliness.  However, the more I snoop around, the more I become aware that these huge buildings are built by and for men.  I was charmed by this old door in Exeter's cathedral.  It has a hole in it, because one of the bishops, from long ago, had a cat.  This is the cat door.

I'm not going into the story of the laundromat, but rest assured that we had clean clothes when we got on the airplane.

Whirlwind

The last three days have been a whirlwind.  If we weren't struggling with jet lag, the days would have probably seemed like normal tourist days. As it is, all we've seen and experienced have the potential to become a blur.

Edinburgh is not the largest city we've visited, but it certainly has a huge variety of sights to see.  Friday, July 10, we explored New Town (developed in the 1700s) and went back to Old Town (built in the 1100s) to see St Giles Cathedral.

However, the highlight of the day for me was the Edinburgh Royal Botanic Garden.

We had a guided tour from a wonderful man who taught us so many things about plants, soils, climate, etc....that we came away with our heads spinning in a pleasant way. One of the most interesting things he taught us was that in a botanic garden, each individual bed is like a library bookshelf, and each flower is a book.  The organization, like that of a library, is key.


Individual plants were intriguing.

Mistakes made by professionals make me feel good. This swath of meadow flowers were supposed to be red poppies to commemorate WWI and the red poppy fields of Flanders.  However, the seed company sold the garden the wrong seeds and the red statement turned out to be blue cornflowers and mostly yellow blossoms of some sort. It's so nice to know that experts aren't perfect.

This meadow was supposed to be the red poppy fields of Flanders.

Saturday, July 11, we met up with a small tour group and drove to St Andrews, the home of golf.  On the way, we stopped at the charming fishing village of Anstruthers where we had fish and chips worthy of the queen.  We were told she orders take away from the same shop when she's at Balmoral.

Fish and Chips worthy of the Queen.

Fish and Chips worthy of Taylor - only in Anstruthers.

We found many surprises at St Andrews.  The Open starts any day now so we didn't see much of the the golf course. Preparations for huge crowds are under way.  Since we aren't golfers we didn't care.  Instead, we enjoyed a lovely walk along the coast path, stopping to admire St Andrews Castle.

St Andrews Castle.

St Andrews Castle.

Further down the coast, we were able to walk among the ruins of St Andrews Cathedral, which was once the largest cathedral in Europe.  Cromwell had it sacked, so we only saw the remains.

St Andrews Cathedral.

Unexpectedly, when we stopped for a tea break, I saw "bread and butter pudding, with a proper custard" on the menu.  I've sworn off bread pudding in restaurants because it's usually quite nasty, but this one was worth every calorie.  As you can see, it was beautiful as well as delicious

Bread pudding worthy of Jamar.

The final stop of the day was Falkland Castle.  It is the hunting cabin of some member of royalty.   They can't afford to keep it up, so they charge people like us to come admire it.  I especially enjoyed the grounds. As you all know, I'm the happiest when I'm in a lovely garden.

This castle was really more beautiful on the outside than it was indoors.

A garden worthy of Jamar.

Next stop, Oban and the Isle of Iona.

Music and Religion in Bath

The Henry House, in Bath, is located in a block of houses built cheek to jowl, that line one full block.  In the center of the block are a jumble of private gardens, accessible only through individual houses. 

Early in the morning, I was awakened from a sound sleep, by a beautiful acapella male voice.  I was befuddled with sleep, and thought at first that it was a clock radio in our room.  Not seeing one glowing on either bedside table, I eventually concluded that the source of the song was outside.  The music continued.  It crescendoed, and eventually softened, and I thought I heard it moving down the street.  Eventually I fell back asleep.

When I went down to breakfast I asked our host Colin about the source of the early morning serenade.  He laughed, and said, "Oh, you heard it?"  He went on to explain that Bath doesn't allow building mosques in the city limits, so there was a mosque in a tent in one of the gardens behind the Henry House.  I had wakened to the call to prayer.  

Sure enough, on the way back upstairs, I looked out the window and saw the tent in one of the back gardens.

The Bath Mosque - in the tent.

As we left the Henry House after breakfast, to walk to the Bath Abbey, I looked down and found this sign.  Colin, was right, the tent in the  garden behind our guest house is a mosque.

The mosque may be in a tent, but it has an official sign.

We strolled through the Bath Abbey as our last experience of this old town, built upon Roman ruins.  The Abbey really is lovely, with very large windows, which make it lighter and brighter than many European churches.  As I was enjoying the light and the architecture, the organist began to practice.  Like the early morning call to prayer, this magical moment was almost enough to make me find religion.