William Morris' Red House

Where we were going next turned out to be London, its southeast suburb of Bexleyheath, across the Docklands, east London, the Blackwall Tunnel, to Red House, the only house designed, built, and lived in by Arts and Crafts Movement guru William Morris. (Think Art Nouveau). He built it in 1860, just after his wedding and a honeymoon in France and was assisted by architect Philip Webb and artist Edward Burne-Jones. He sold it in 1865, never returned, but the house has remained a Mecca for artsy/craftsy types.

Red House entrance

Much interesting stained and painted glass

Thus

And thus, the front door; there is much Morrisiana
throughout the house, much of it later stuff, but there
is also much by Burne-Jones, other friends, and later
occupants of the house

The downstairs settle

Up close; it is said that Morris came to grief over this painting and his perceived
inability to represent the human figure; and thus decided not to become a painter

Nice touch department: on panes in a door near the entry visitors scratched their
names; look closely and you will see A. Lasenby Liberty, of Regent Street
department store fame; Art Nouveau is known as "Liberty" in some other parts
of the world

Main floor view

Staircase ceiling

The master bedroom settle, leading to a loft and the attic, flanked by Burne-Jones'
paintings

The Red House came to the National Trust only a few years ago, and every
time they do repair or restoration something new and unknown pops up; here,
a floral design under ceiling slats; scratch tests are ongoing throughout the
house

Upstairs hallway

Just discovered department: this mural, presumably by Burne-Jones, was just
uncovered a few months back

One of two original Morris print blocks on display at the house

Thus (on the wall)

A Morris tapestry

Back yard view; the whole thing was set in what had been an apple orchard, and
several ancient trees remained; Morris' garden was among the first to incorporate
a "room" design (herb room, vegetable room, flower room, etc.) which we have
seen elsewhere

Vicki taught at Bexley High School, a suburb of Columbus, Ohio,
and we lived in Bexley for a few years...our first house; daughter
Rebecca was born in those days and spent her first few years on
Bellwood Avenue, Bexley, Ohio

Hatfield Forest

As a McCoy, Vicki had a hankering to see Hatfield Forest, which was sort of on the way to wherever we thought we might be going next. Besides, it is the last surviving royal hunting forest in Britain, more than a thousand years old. Plus we wanted to hone our skills at differentiating between coppiced and pollarded trees. Plus, the blackberries picked in Durham and then Derby had given out.

Thus; plus, it's a National Trust property

Big, old trees, coppiced trees, open field for killing deer

Coppiced, we think

Giant old tree

We had intended to go for a long walk, but the blackberry
patch was just a 100 yards from the car park; dodging nettles
and bees, and cow patties (and neeps), we managed 2 big
quart bags in a half hour

Cambridge 2013

After Burleigh we drove on to Cambridge, a city we have visited before and spent perhaps a week in in 2009. Our campsite this visit was on the River Cam, among the narrow and other boats, about a mile and a half from the old city. We decided to walk in, look at the shoppes, and have a pub dinner.

Another interesting wild-camping site

New line of Doctor Who bakeware; daughter
Rachel duly notified

Art nuvo storefront

Impressive full-size glass fiddle in a gallery

The very famous Corpus Clock and the
Chronophage (look it up); "mundus transit et
concupiscentia eius"; accurate for a second
or so only every five minutes; there were
people there videotaping it; the work of sculptor
John Taylor; Stephen Hawking unveiled it in
2008; pretty captivating, really

King's College Chapel, unveiled, presumably, by Henry VIII;
see the 2009 posts from Cambridge for more

Burghley House 2

Unlike many of the houses we have seen, Burleigh's kitchen seemed to be one great
hall, rather than a collection of lesser rooms; anyhow, those are turtle heads on the
wall

Burleigh has more paintings than most houses; some portraits of
interest--more for who they are of than who they are by--and a
number by the great masters, so the frame says, but when you look
at the catalog, it becomes "in the manner of" or "follower of" or
"studio of"; the colossal painting of an ox above is the real thing,
by Rubens' disciple Snyders; it is so large it had to be restored in
place

"You rang, sir?" final episode

We were more impressed with the furniture and furnishings, though little of it was
Elizabethan

William Cecil, Lord Burleigh

His boss, the Queen

One of many such rooms

Bed for Queen Victoria's visit; despite the steps, the bed still had to be shortened
for her

Silver fireplace ware

Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip recently planted trees at
Burghley; on the left are the shovels they used; on the right is
the child's shovel that the very petite Queen Victoria used in
the 1850s

Exquisite room after exquisite room; this one of the George
rooms

An incredible chest

The Italian Baroque muralist Antonio Verrio spent ten years at Burleigh,
doing walls, ceilings, staircases...here, just a bit of his "Heaven" room; well,
it was a Classical heaven

And here, a bit of his Hell Staircase

And, lastly, a great hall easily the size of a tennis court...

Burghley House 1

We missed Burghley House entirely in 2009. We didn't know of it when we traveled north along the east side then, and we came back down, weeks later, on the west side. This year we went up the west side and were sure to visit Burghley on the east-side rebound. We did. It is another of the Elizabethan great houses, an independently owned house, held by the Cecil family since it was built in the later 1500s. William Cecil, the first Lord Burghley, was Elizabeth the Queen's Treasurer and principal adviser in the earlier years of her long reign, and she rewarded him with both a title and a vast estate. In age it is comparable to Hardwick. But the comparisons don't go far beyond that. Burleigh House was lived in, frequently remodeled and refurnished. If anything, it is an Elizabethan outside with a largely Georgian inside. The long gallery that Bess of Hardwick envied in 1580 was chopped up thoroughly in the 18th century to make more rooms with more walls to accommodate the growing picture collection.

View of Burleigh House from the ha-ha

Closer up

And a slightly different angle, hoping for more sunlight; I don't think Lord Burleigh
had photographers in mind when he sited the house

The trick gardens--modeled perhaps on such 17th century trick gardens as the
Archibishop's at Hellbrunn near Salzburg; very popular with the kiddies,
especially on a warm day such as this

Beyond, a great number of contemporary sculptures are in the park; I actually liked
many of these...

A first for me

More I liked

Ditto

Ditto again

The grounds are another by Capability Brown ("move that hill there, and that hill
there, divert the river into the consequent valley and add three dams for cascades;
the bridge goes there, the boathouse there; the deer park there, clumps of trees here,
here and here, with meadows; and, oh yes, the village absolutely has to go")

On Or Near Cauldwell Lake

Our next wild-camping site was on a dead-end access road to a forest management area/footpath/bridlepath/dogwalk area; and Cauldwell Lake; and its dam. And fishing sites and rights.

There we are; it was a very quiet, peaceful night

We felt very safe, from flytippers, anyhow; as you can see,
however, the Brits use such signs as this for target practice,
just like in the US; much smaller caliber, however; flytipping,
we have learned, is very different from cow- tipping in the US

The dam is in there somewhere, under the ferns; there were some great
blackberries up the hill...

There's the lake, all 4-5 acres of  it; note the flags draped across at intervals,
like lanes in a competition swimming pool

The whole place fenced-in and under guard..."I could wile  away the hours/
Conferrin' with the flowers/Consultin' with the rain/And my head I'd be scratchin'/
While my thoughts were busy hatchin'/If I only had a brain..."

Fishing here is unlike in the US, where everybody has a right to the water
(high-water mark, etc.); here it is strictly plotted, sold, handed down from
generation to generation, presumably via primogeniture...