High summer at Ashton Court

We've found that as long as we pick our time, we can find relative solitude at Ashton Court, despite the pressure on open urban spaces as a result of the pandemic. So we've been going up there every couple of months or so this year, and now it's high summer's turn to take centre stage. 

The oak that's always first to greet us

yellow rattle

View over central Bristol, including the Wills Memorial building, Cabot Tower and St Mary Redcliffe

View over south Bristol with Kelston Roundhill on the horizon

View across to Dundry

Path to Summerhouse Plantation

Green where there were bluebells last time we were here

The Fattest Oak in ceremonial solstice robes

Fox or badger sett

I wish I could read bark. This is in sycamore. 

Nature watching with Cwtch the collie

Going home

Last week Facebook drew to my attention to the fact that it was a year since I'd wandered around the heart of Bristol, and I realised that I'd never been away from it for that long before. And as I'm attached to the place, I had to do something about it, and that meant getting up at dawn to go down  for a wander before it was too busy, as much for the puppy's sake as that of our social distancing. 

It was still quite dark when we arrived at Mud Dock, but it brightened as we headed down along Princes Wharf and Wapping Wharf to the Great Britain, although there was a stiff breeze, which made for interesting skies and achy faces. 

The same breeze brought in storm clouds, and although it was only a short stroll, the sky quickly became a lot more dramatic. 

Looking across to Cabot Tower ... 

`    

... and back to Cliftonwood

Cabot Tower, the Planetarium, Bristol Cathedral, the Wills Memorial Building, more of the Cathedral, the lead works chimney

Don't make me go in that puddle! 

A brisk stop-off at Sea Walls  - no ice cream van! - and it was time to go home. All very familiar, but given that we can't go anywhere new right now, enough to tide us over. 

 

Christmas Lights in Bristol

 Early morning in Clifton

 Lunchtime on Wine Street

Three in the afternoon on Narrow Quay

Bristol, there've been times I've tried to leave you ...

... but somehow I forget to unhook the elastic strap from the back of my belt ...

... and I'm left doing a sort of horizontal bungee jump over and over again. 

I'm getting tired now ...

... and it's no real hardship to abandon resistance ...

... not on days like these.

Cranes on Princes Wharf

The Wills Memorial Building and Cathedral from M Shed

Looking south to Totterdown

Arnolfini on Narrow Quay

St Augustine's Reach

Over to Cabot Tower on Brandon Hill

Cathedral Steps

The Triangle

Cottaging with John Cabot and two prototype blow-up dolls

I often have the privilege of showing visitors around my  home city, Bristol, but rarely are they such good company as my first cousin once removed, Jack, and his friend, Mia, both of whom are newly arrived this side of the Pond to spend a semester working at The Globe as part of their further education.  Having spent a few days soaking up the atmosphere (and whiskey) in Dublin, they have a few days here, staying with relatives, before heading up to London.  


It's not new territory for Jack, as both his parents originate from Bristol and he has visited many times. He'd never trespassed on university land and clambered down the side of the Avon Gorge to visit Burwalls Cave, however.  Nor had he walked across the Clifton Suspension Bridge to visit the Observatory, with its Victorian Camera Obscura and the Giant's Cave beneath.  I was a bit concerned by just how quaint and parochial these activites might seem, compared with the sophisticated tourist destinations of their home country, but they took it in good humour.  And when they return home and read Bill Bryson's 'Notes from a Small Island', it will have far more resonance for them.


Next - obviously - we had to slide down the nearby rock face.  Mia and Jack asked if it had been waxed, but its slippery, shiny surface has been caused by generations of Bristolian bottoms.  

We then walked back across the bridge and drove down to the city centre, where we parked and wandered alongside the Floating Harbour for a spot of cottaging.  Jack's mother, my cousin Sandra, had insisted that we do this, as The Cottage Inn was where she and Jack's father, Martin, had their first ever date.  We had a lovely lunch over looking the water, washed down with a pleasant pint of Ashton Still cider, brewed locally. 




After meandering back along the quay, we visited the Cathedral. I was hoping to show them  my favourite room in the world, the Chapter House, but we could only peek through the glass doors as the flooring was being relaid.  There were lots of other interesting things to look at, however.






I'd never noticed these rather lewd women on an otherwise sober tomb of some long dead worthy.  They look like the 17th century equivalent of blow-up dolls.

Our final port of call was the newly restored and reopened Cabot Tower on Brandon Hill, which was built in 1897 to commemorate the 400th anniversary of John Cabot's historic voyage from what was then the separate settlement of Redcliffe to Newfoundland.   From the top there were moody views over a greatly changed city.

Summer is over and the trees are tipping into autumn, but Jack and Mia's adventure is just beginning!