4th July 2021

I suppose it was only to be expected. No sooner had optimism cantered over the horizon, and I’d been lured into returning to a more typical format for the family blog, than the weather turned on its heel and COVID-19 picked up pace to a gallop. Still, ever the stubborn optimist, I remind myself that farmers and gardeners need rain. Besides, people are enjoying greater freedoms once more, and although the number of new infections is soaring, the death rate thankfully remains low.

The day after England’s dismal 0–0 draw with Scotland in the Euros, Sarah and Lee dropped Alice and Mia off at Willow Bank for a few hours with the grandparents. Meanwhile, they tore through the Leicestershire countryside on quad bikes at Quad Nation near Sibbertoft, a birthday gift from Lee to Sarah.

That evening, Sue and I travelled to a COVID-19-rampant Corby to see a rather dark and macabre performance at the Corby Cube Theatre. The play, Medea Electronica, was staged by the company Pecho Mama. Billed as “a powerful and deeply moving retelling of the Greek tragedy, set in 1980s rural England,” it unfolded amidst an electrifying live gig, a heart-stopping story of a family caught in the brutal throes of a marriage unravelling.

Entry to the theatre was strictly controlled; we were given a 7:15 pm slot to enter ahead of the 8 pm performance. The Check & Trace app and face masks were mandatory. Seating remained socially distanced throughout, though with an audience of just over 40, I couldn’t quite see how any profit could have been made.

Over the weekend, Sue’s nephew Simon popped the question to his girlfriend, Jennifer Jones. They’ve been together for a couple of years now, and Sue and her sister Philippa have been speculating about this for some time. Looks like a wedding might be on the cards soon?

Today, I had a call from Peter in New Zealand. It seems he’s made the sensible decision not to return to the UK for another three or four years and has decided to give up his apartment in Lubenham. I’ve agreed to store his more valuable items in our loft, while his landlord will take on the task of clearing the remainder of his belongings and re-letting the flat.

The next few days saw Sue continuing her U3A activities, with sessions of pétanque and several rambles. I busied myself with a variety of mundane but necessary tasks: cutting back the ivy that was making rapid progress up the walls of the house and garage, trimming the hedge along the drive, and spending a day painting the freshly rendered walls of Sarah and Lee’s house. I rounded off the week by helping Charlotte take down a tall conifer for one of her clients, a task that greatly benefited my woodpile.

On a Wednesday morning, Jamie attended a much-delayed pre-op consultation ahead of his forthcoming knee surgery. Afterwards, he treated me to a very enjoyable (and belated) Father’s Day lunch at the Bull’s Head in Clipston. It was a rare opportunity to enjoy each other’s company without the usual interruptions of phone calls or the pressure of having to be elsewhere. He’s now off work until after his operation next week.

The following evening, I hosted another ‘Saga’ garden party with nine of my ex-rugby-playing chums. The weather was decidedly unseasonable, with frequent light showers keeping us huddled beneath the canopy on the patio as we drank beer and tucked into a spread of cheeses, pork pies, and pickled onions. Musical entertainment came courtesy of the No.1 hits of 1973.

Sue and I looked after Rocky and Nala over Friday and Saturday, while Ruth enjoyed a ‘girlie’ house party in Bottesford and Jamie, along with his friend Tom, had driven down to London to take in the city sights. Ruth and Jamie collected their mutts on Saturday afternoon, just as I was settling in to watch the British Lions dismantle a pretty strong Japan side. I then remained thoroughly enthralled as Harlequins defeated Exeter in what may well have been the best game of rugby I’ve watched in a very long time.

On Saturday night, the Rothwells headed to the Corby Cube Theatre for an ‘impromptu’ performance of Spontaneous Potter (Harry). Despite the extensive COVID-19 restrictions still in place, they managed to have a thoroughly enjoyable evening.

Earlier in the week, we were contacted by our holiday company and informed that the cruise to the Falkland Islands from Chile, scheduled for November, had been cancelled. Frustrated but undaunted, we decided not to accept a refund or defer the trip to 2022. Instead, we transferred our booking to celebrate Sue’s birthday in August with a holiday to Iceland, a country currently on the UK’s green list for travel (fingers crossed it stays that way). Although I’ve already visited this rather aptly named island, Sue hasn’t, and I’m sure she’ll love the experience.

I took Jamie to Leicester General Hospital for his knee operation. It meant an early start, as he had to check in by 7:30 am for surgery scheduled at 10:30 am. Looking understandably pensive, he headed inside at 7 am. I wished him luck at the entrance, but with current Covid restrictions, I wasn’t permitted to accompany him. The operation took around four hours; the surgeons discovered another torn ligament and decided to repair it while they had the opportunity. Ruth collected him at 5 pm and took him back to Bottesford, where he’ll convalesce under her care.

Like much of the country, Jamie spent the following evening watching a determined England beat Germany in a tense, and for him, rather painful, match. That same day, I drove to Newbold Verdon and put in another eight-hour stint painting the render on Sarah and Lee’s house. Although the weather was slightly cooler than on my previous visit, the endless ladder-climbing and balancing on scaffolding still took it out of me. I slept well that night, smiling at the thought that the painting was finally finished, and that England had at last laid to rest the ghost of not having beaten Germany in a competitive match since the painful 4–1 loss way back in 2010.

On the 1st July, Sue and I visited Jamie and Ruth. It was a lovely, warm day, and we sat out in the garden, chatting about medical matters and Maddie’s new mansion. The rather plump white rabbit now resides in an expansive three-storey Wendy House, complete with carpeting and an assortment of toys. She has always behaved as though she were human rather than lepus, and I suspect her new (rent-free) palace has only reinforced that particular delusion.

At lunchtime, we took a short stroll to a café in the village, where Ruth and Jamie stopped for a meal in the café while Sue and I took the dogs for a wander. As it turned out, Bottesford is quite a historical and interesting place. It began life as a small Romano-British settlement linking Ermine Street with the Isle of Axholme and Doncaster via Bottesford Beck.

We made our way to St Mary the Virgin Church, nestled in the centre of the village beside a very pretty ford. As expected, the church itself was closed, but to our surprise, we stumbled across a group of photographers from Mansfield. They were equipped with impressively long, camouflaged lenses, all propped up on tripods and aimed skyward. Their attention was fixed on four peregrine falcons wheeling around the tall spire, diving and swooping as they harassed a group of increasingly frantic pigeons who, despite the threat, seemed oddly reluctant to give up their perches.

We stood with them for a while, sharing news of our own Harborough peregrines, residents of the town’s church spire, who are equally fearsome adversaries to the local pigeon population. After leaving the church, we spent a pleasant twenty minutes while seated on a bench, thoroughly entertained by a cyclist who was repeatedly filming himself splashing at speed through the shallow ford. On chatting with him, we discovered he was writing a book on cycling routes and hoped one of the stills would make it into the final draft.

We returned to the café just in time to accompany Jamie and Ruth back home for a coffee, before setting off on the return drive to Willow Bank.

A few hours later, Sue and I drove to Cheikho’s Italian restaurant in Lutterworth. Sarah had arranged a meal there as a Father’s Day present. As it was still early evening, we were the only diners in the restaurant, proof, perhaps, that after the initial rush following the lifting of Covid restrictions, trade had tapered off. It was a lovely meal all the same, and we were home just before 9 pm. Tired and rather bloated, I assumed the evening was over, but no, shortly after we arrived, Jim appeared and persuaded me to make our way to that week’s Thursday night garden party, held in Steve’s garden. There was plenty of food on offer, but I declined, fearing that one more morsel might see me explode!

The following day, after England had thrashed a lacklustre Ukraine 4–0, Sue and I set off for Thornbury, near Bristol (4th July). We were en route to spend a few days with Pip and Paul in Buckfastleigh, but had decided to break the journey to visit long-time friend Chris Tippets. With rain forecast across much of the UK, we weren’t surprised when we encountered several showers along the largely motorway route. One monsoon-like downpour was so intense it brought the relatively light traffic to a near standstill, perilous conditions that reminded us just how fickle the British summer can be.

After locating The Swan, our accommodation for the night, we parked nearby and set off to explore the town. Of course, we headed straight for the most prominent feature in sight, the grand tower of the town church, situated downhill towards the distant River Severn. The church is part of the estate belonging to Henry VIII’s Thornbury Castle, which looms impressively behind it. While I investigated the graveyard, Sue sat on a bench and chatted to a local woman, who was soaking up the sun and eager to converse in a lovely West Country accent.

We returned to The Swan at 1 pm to meet Chris for a pre-arranged Sunday lunch. It had been quite a few years since we last saw him, and though he appeared not to have aged a bit, there were visible signs of Parkinson’s Disease setting in. The restaurant was very busy, which caused quite a delay between drinks and courses, but this wasn’t an issue; we had plenty to catch up on. When the food finally arrived, it was scrumptious. Through the window, we could see that the earlier monsoon had reached Thornbury, and we were grateful not to be outside, unlike the drenched latecomers arriving for lunch!

Once the meal was finished, we drove Chris home and then collected his next-door neighbour’s two dogs, Tilly and Monty. We were to take them for a walk through the nearby woods and continue our conversation. Monty, an elderly and beefy black Labrador, looked more like a grizzly bear than a dog. Tilly, on the other hand, could easily pass for a floor mop, especially after she thrashed her way through the long, sodden grass that made up the first part of our route.

It was a pleasant ramble, marred only by its finale. Just 200 meters from the safety of Chris’s home and Sue’s car, MONSOON 2 hit Thornbury. Despite seeking shelter under a large tree, which offered no real respite from the torrent falling from the thick, black clouds above, we stood helplessly in the downpour. After about 10 minutes of standing under what felt like a power shower, we foolishly made a dash for it. Poor Tilly was practically swimming alongside me, swept along by the stream racing down the footpath.

As the rain eased, we were already thoroughly soaked. We quickly said our goodbyes, made our way back to The Swan to check in and change into dry clothes, before relaxing with warming coffees in our hands within the comfort of our room.

Around 8:30 pm, on a now dry and sunny evening, we ventured out on a trail suggested by Chris via Messenger. Our path took us up the High Street and through Mundy Park, before turning downhill and following the course of a small stream. This eventually led us to Thornbury Castle.

Since losing its status as a family home and castle, it is now a hotel and restaurant. We’ve often mused about staying there on one of our passing visits. As usual, we decided to explore, and we discovered just how grand and important the building once was. Its history is evident in the parts of the structure that have been tastefully restored, and even more so in the ruins that remain. We could easily imagine Henry VIII strutting through the restored Tudor Garden, sampling the many herbs still being grown for the castle kitchen. This has now become a future must-visit venue on our list.

Back in Leicestershire, the family (Rothwells & Newbold Verdons) went to visit Jamie, who was convalescing at Ruth’s in Bottesford. However, it seems that Maddie and her palace captured more of little Alice’s attention than her poorly uncle.

After a hearty breakfast in Thornbury, we had an easy journey down to Buckfastleigh. When we arrived, Paul was busy in the garden, leaving Philippa to greet us with much-needed drinks. Later, after a light lunch of cheese and scones, we all set off on a geocache hunt. Most of the caches had been craftily placed in the surrounding countryside by Philippa. The weather forecast predicted rain, and sure enough, it arrived right after the first geocache was found.

With raincoats donned, we continued our circular ramble, collecting more geocaches until eventually returning to Buckfastleigh via the Abbey.

The following day brought a strenuous adventure. A forty-five-minute drive took the four of us to the rugged cliffs of the south coast, where we arrived at Coleton Fishacre. This once served as the country home of Rupert D’Oyly Carte and his wife, Lady Dorothy Carte, between 1923 and 1926. The house was designed by architect Oswald Milne, a former assistant to Edwin Lutyens, and built with the principles of the Arts and Crafts Movement in mind. However, the focus of today’s excursion was to follow part of the South West Coastal Path. Our route took us through just a section of the grounds, which are renowned for their rare and exotic plants that thrive outside tropical climates thanks to the nearby Gulf Stream. These plants were collected by Lady Dorothy, who was known for gathering exotic species during her travels abroad.

Having taken note of the inclement weather forecast, we had suited up accordingly, but after leaving the gravel car park, it wasn’t long before layers were shed under a clear blue sky and, at times, a fiercely hot sun. We made our way to the coast through a series of closely cropped, undulating grassy fields, each adorned with tall hedgerow foxgloves, before arriving at the cliffs above Ivy Cove. Here, we turned west along the 630-mile National Trail.

Passing through Pudcombe Bay and its disused swimming pool (once part of the Coleton Fishacre estate), we made our way along the precarious path towards the Lookout Station on Froward Point. Along the way, we were surprised to come across a scattered herd of ponies, casually munching grass on the narrow clifftop trail. By lunchtime, we reached Froward Cove, where, in a cool and blustery spot high above the rocky inlet, we had an incident-prone picnic. Crisps and sandwiches were sent bouncing down the path by a mischievous wind.

Refreshed, we continued to Inner Froward Point and spent some time exploring the Brownstone Battery complex, which had been built in 1942 as a defence against German naval attacks. The site was equipped with two six-inch guns that had been salvaged from a First World War battleship. Before leaving, we lingered under the manned Coast Guard Station, enjoying a cool breeze and breathtaking ocean views.

The next leg of our journey proved to be quite an energy-sapping ordeal, with concrete, wooden, and earth-cut steps leading us up to Warren House. After a brief but welcome respite in Mill Bay Cove, we sat and enjoyed the sound of breaking waves and views of bobbing yachts, breathing in salty childhood memories of rock pools, sandcastles, and chilly, tumbling waves. With the challenge of Devon’s version of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ behind us, strained ligaments and tired muscles in tow, we trudged the last leg back to the car, stopping only to find the third Geocache of the day and observe several cruise ships, still pandemic-frozen, in the bay through binoculars.

The evening was spent watching Spain and Italy battle it out on the pitch at Wembley in the Euro semifinal. Though Spain was the much better side during regular play, the game ultimately went Italy’s way after penalties.

After breakfast on the 7th of July, we made our way to Buckland Abbey, once a Cistercian Abbey and later the home of Sir Francis Drake, located to the north of Plymouth. As the dreary BBC weather forecast had predicted, the rain began as soon as we arrived. We sat in the car for 15 minutes while the heavens opened over this corner of Devon. When the rain finally eased, we bought our tickets and headed into the grounds, passing through the large and empty Tithe Barn (55m) before entering the main building. The Abbey had been restored between 1948 and 1951 for £20,000, a significant sum at the time.

Strict rules regulated our movement from room to room, which meant we spent a lot of time waiting at doorways to see the exhibits. Unfortunately, the information available was poor, with very little mention of its most famous occupant, Sir Francis Drake. Access to the upper floors was restricted, likely due to COVID-19, and the entrance fee remained unchanged, which felt disappointing. After exploring the building and with the skies darkening further, we decided to visit the gardens. These were well laid out and appeared true to the period. In the Cider Cottage garden, we had to take shelter from another passing shower before opting to have lunch in the Abbey cafe. We had hoped to eat outside in the courtyard, but another shower forced us indoors.

Overall, it was a mildly disappointing visit. So much history, yet it was poorly presented. The National Trust really needs to focus on improving the experience for visitors. It seemed more interested in selling its annual subscriptions at the entrance than satisfying the curiosity of those who visit. On our return to Buckfastleigh, we made a couple of stops at garden centres where Paul bought three plants.

The evening turned out to be quite remarkable, though. Philippa prepared a delicious spaghetti bolognese, and as we settled in to enjoy our meal, England delivered a great performance, beating Denmark 2-1 in the semi-final of the Euros, setting up a thrilling final against Italy at Wembley.

The following morning, we said our goodbyes to our hosts and made our way back up the M5 to the Gloucester Robinswood Hotel, just a couple of miles from the city centre.

Though we arrived early, we were permitted to check in and drop off our luggage in the room before deciding what to do for the rest of the day. After picking up a leaflet on Puzzlewood from reception, we decided this would be our next adventure. Puzzlewood is located in Gloucestershire’s historic Forest of Dean and is a unique and atmospheric ancient woodland that has inspired many authors and storytellers. It’s where Stormtroopers and Time Lords have rubbed shoulders with dragons and unicorns, and it has been the location for several films and TV programmes, including Star Wars and Harry Potter, among many others.

On arrival, we didn’t quite have the place to ourselves, but there were a few other visitors, and social distancing could have been measured in hundreds of metres. It is difficult to describe the place, but the included photos do it so much better than words. The wood itself has been open as a source of revenue for the local church for over a hundred years, and of course, its history goes back much further than that. The Romans absent-mindedly left 3000 coins there, which were discovered in 1848 by mine workers in three earthenware jars. Our visit was completed with a romp around the willow maze and a delicious ice cream.

On our route through the woods, we were tasked with identifying 20 locations along the trail and discovering hidden coins. A fun activity designed to satisfy the whole family, though Sue did take it slightly more seriously than I did. We discovered all except for the Spooky Tree; there seemed to be too many of them to pick out anyone in particular. A great afternoon out.

That evening, we ate in the hotel restaurant and discovered that there was at least one bus tour staying at the hotel, if not a couple. The room was filled with happy trippers chatting amiably between tables, greeting each other as they took their socially distanced seats. If it weren’t for the presence of mask-wearing waiters, you wouldn’t have suspected there was a pandemic.

Breakfast the following morning was followed by a two-hour drive back to Harborough. Since discovering cruise control on Sue’s Mini, motorway driving has become a lot more relaxing.

Not long after arriving home, Charlotte appeared to collect a set of ladders that had been stored in the garage and take some ‘blown’ lettuce plants for her hens. Sarah and her family have been spending the week in Skegness with Lee’s parents, and it seems they’ve been having some decent weather with lots of sandy fun.

On Saturday (10th June), Jamie and Ruth bought a friend for Maddie from the RSPCA; she’s a dwarf rabbit called Wilma. Jim came to watch England crush Canada 70-14 at Twickenham.

Sunday saw Sarah and her family travel to Harborough from Skegness to meet up with Charlotte and her family at Willow Bank to watch the England vs Italy Euro Final. Jamie, Ruth, and Joey also travelled to Harborough to watch the match at their friend Bill’s home. We had pre-match pizzas to get us into the mood for what we and most of the country hoped would be an England victory.

An early goal calmed the nerves, and a dominant first-half performance by the boys in white raised the spirit and the belief that this time ‘football was coming home.’ A goal by Italy as they took control of the second half put the nerves on edge again, and extra time didn’t help the blood pressure of either nation. The first half of extra time was fairly even, though England certainly had the upper hand in the final session. It was during this period that the Italian Chiellini dragged English striker Saka by the neck to the ground as he was breaking clear of the defence. I cannot think of any sport where, after such an incident, the player is not sent off.

With the inevitable penalty shoot-out, most England supporters had resigned themselves to their fate and the inescapable defeat. We can now look forward to going through all this again in a year in Qatar!!!!!

With the easing of restrictions and Covid-19 infections rising steeply, the number of games held at Wembley and the size of the crowds allowed, I fear, have done little to curb the spread of the virus. Perhaps had England won, it might have been enough to lift the nation’s spirits and provide a brief distraction from the 18 months of gloom and despondency.

The following day, before returning to Bottesford, Jamie had a morning appointment at the local hospital with his surgeon. Afterwards, he, Ruth, Joey, and the dogs joined us for lunch and some board and card games. Jamie is still using crutches but is now able to support himself and walk without them.

According to government figures, there have been 5.1 million confirmed cases of coronavirus in the UK, and more than 128,000 people have died. Nearly 46 million people in the UK have now received their first dose of the vaccine.