Home from Glastonbury.

I've had a lovely few days with our youngest daughter in Glastonbury. We stayed in a tiny studio flat very aptly named 'The Cubbyhole'. It made up for it's lack of space by being so well placed for everything we wanted. In the picture above you can see how the minerals stain the water from the Chalice Well which is said to be fed from beneath the Tor. The water has healing properties and many visitors take a little bottle of it home with them. The gardens which house the well are so tranquil and almost at the foot of the Tor, and I am so pleased I was able to get up to the top and enjoy the amazing 360 degree panorama of Somerset and beyond, spread out beneath us.

We had to make a visit to the Abbey ruins and grounds which I love - they too are so peaceful. I took loads more photos again this year but have posted only a few.

This little well is tucked through an archway in the Undercroft, one level below the railings in the following picture. I missed it last year.

I'm surprised there is any of the Abbey left as it was virtually used as a quarry for about 300 years after the dissolution. It is thought that many old buildings in the town have stone from here somewhere in their construction. The Abbey museum has a few beautiful tiles and shards of glass, but all the precious things were stripped away. It has a stunning model illustrating just how large the Abbey was.

In the space between these two high sections there would have been an arch and reversed arch above it forming an enormous curved letter X and similar to the one in Wells Cathedral. It must have been a breathtaking sight, and was the largest and most richly decorated Abbey in England, in it's time.

I bought this postcard of the Holy Thorn to remind me of how it looked before vandals chopped all it's branches off earlier this year. This tree is a descendant of the original one which grew on the spot on Wearyall Hill where it is thought that Joseph of Arimathea stuck his staff into the ground and it took root. It is interesting that this particular species of hawthorn is found in the Middle East and is not indigenous to Britain. It flowers twice a year - at Easter and Christmas - whereas our native hawthorn flowers only once in Spring.

Sadly, it now looks like this, but the good news is that tiny green shoots are appearing round the base of the tree and from several of the branches. Hundreds of people have been to see it and tied ribbons and messages of goodwill round the metal guard protecting it from the cattle and sheep which graze the field. It won't look the same, but it's definitely alive.
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I came home feeling much better and almost free of my cough, only to find that my husband had gone down with the same thing. He has a weak chest so even an ordinary cold is bad for him and has been quite poorly but seems to be improving. Antibiotics are helping the condition but making him very drowsy.

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We both still tire easily but Dick mowed the lawns yesterday and I have done quite a lot of tidying up in the front garden and planted out the sweet peas, potted up some herbs and pricked out seedlings which were practically climbing out of their seed tray. All we want now is some rain, and then a bit of sunshine to sit out and admire our handiwork. Too much to ask? Probably.