Reacquainting myself

I've been to this small village several times over the past 30 years although there was a very long spell, almost 25 years, where I hadn't visited it at all. It really hasn't changed all that much, just aged, as I have

But Burnham-on-Sea has MANY more years on it than I have on me. For example, the tower of this church, St Andrews,



was built in the late 14th or early 15th century. And, yes, that tower is leaning. The ground settled after the tower was built and the tower has leaned ever since. Inside, the nave



was also built at the same time as the tower. "Well, of course," you may be saying, "A church would be built in one piece, wouldn't it? Ummm, no, not always. With very old buildings, things are often redone and such is the case with St. Andrews, where part of the church was "restored" during the Victorian period, the 19th century. Ugly. I didn't take a photo. But going back to that photo of the nave, did you notice the sculptures on the wall? They're apparently quite famous, called Gibbons Sculptures. They were commissioned by James II who lived from 1633-1701 and was overthrown by William of Orange in 1688. They were originally in Westminster Abbey in London but in 1820 came to this church. There, a bit of history for you .

The last time I was in Burnham it was winter and the church was locked during the week. So I was quite pleased to see that the door was standing open today. I met a very nice woman who was tidying up the church and we chatted about all sorts of things--the 1100th anniversary of the establishment of the Anglican dioceses in the West Country, the differences in attitudes about history between England and America (we North Americans are much more sentimental about our roots than the English are), walking groups in the area. Aileen invited me to a senior's get-together next Wednesday morning and said I might be able to link up with a local walking group. It's a bit disconcerting to think that I am now a "senior" but, hey, if it means I have the opportunity to go walking, I don't mind a bit. Too bad I'm not 60 though--I'd be able to ride the buses for free.

After I left the church, I walked around the village, enjoying the bustle of a seaside town. I can't tell the tourists from the locals and, as you can see from my "beach" photo, it's not the kind of beach where tanned, bikini'd women are lolling about baking in the sun:


No, there were just a few folks down on the wet beach. Little ones who don't mind the stiff breeze and the chilly wet sand tickling their toes. Maybe they know something we don't about kicking back and relaxing?

Anyway, I'm back home now waiting for my friend to arrive back from work so that we can go off cycling. This should be interesting--I am not an avid cyclist. I am not really a cyclist at all. But Sheila went to a lot of trouble to borrow a bike for me and the path we're taking today is a converted railway track leading through a very pretty part of Cheddar (yes, where that cheese originated). So it should be flat. And I won't have to worry about falling in front of a car or anything.

I will report in tomorrow.