Time To Leave.

Saturday, 21st September was when we left Catherine’s. It’s hard leaving family, close family, whom you love, knowing you won’t see them again until at least next year. But that is the way of life today. If you still have family living by you, you are the lucky ones.

We planned to stop, 3 nights, in our journey through Belgium.

We had several reasons for our planned stops and I have to confess, they are mostly my reasons but they are things I have wanted to do for so many, many years.

First stop was Liege. This was where we believe my 2 x Great Grandfather came from. He was a Spelter Worker and left home, in Belgium, to find work in South Wales. I suspect it didn’t turn out to be the promised land for him. He married my Welsh 2 x Great Grandma, who was possibly under-age at the time, in a Register Office, which back in the early 1870s indicates something was amiss, possibly a clash of religions. They had a clutch of children and were obviously poor. Paul died, at the age of 39, from a severe chest infection. No doubt, in part, due to his occupation and today, probably would have been saved by anti-biotics. His widow Margaret was left with a collection of children, the youngest being James, who followed his father to the grave just a few weeks later, aged 2.

Margaret took the best option for her, in such difficult circumstances and took in a Lodger, William Davies, who was very soon more than a lodger. Margaret gave birth to twins and this was brought up in Court, when she was attacked by a Belgian neighbour. The circumstances of their lives seem to have been dreadful. Her 13 year old daughter, Mary Josephine, my Great-Grandmother, was sexually assaulted by a local young man but the case was dismissed, due to lack of an independent witness. At that time.Mary had a good job, in service at a large house. She lost her position.

The hardships endured by this family of mine have, since I learned about them, made them a very deeply connected part of my life. There are far more heart-wrenching tales to be told but not here. However, this is why I was so anxious to actually set foot in the City Paul Louwet had originated from.

My family history research (my passion) found several fellow descendants from this unlikely coupling and thanks to Marylou, I finally had a photo of Paul Louwet, who turned out to be exactly the dark haired, striking looking man I had always imagined him to be.

So now I was going to see the land of his birth.

I have to say, to anyone considering driving into Liege, don’t!! What a bloody nightmare. No wonder Paul was so keen to go to Swansea. Liege is huge today and confusingly has two rivers to deal with and bridges all over the place, not to mention roads, closed, due to some strange new road plan that seems to have been abandoned mid course.

I don’t know where exactly Paul lived and have no doubt he would have recognised very little of the City today.

One of the things I had learned during my research is, that Paul was more than likely Roman Catholic and although I had no idea where I was going, I was drawn to a large, ancient church.

Maybe I found a place I could share with Paul, who has been in a special place in my heart since, I was a child. Whatever the truth, I found it a very moving experience, standing quietly at the back, listening to a service.

The photo of Paul would have been taken in Swansea, around 1880 and the child is more than likely Edward. Edward married in London and was living with his wife Cecilia, in Ladbroke Grove, prior to his death in Brompton Hospital, from TB, at the age of 29.

The Bells! The Bells!

I should maybe explain my comment about the bells, at the end of my last entry.

I didn't know this, until I started visiting this area of Germany and I don’t know if it’s the same over the whole of the country but their farms aren’t like ours in the UK. We’re used to seeing a farm as a stand alone building, with its fields around it. What happens where Catherine lives is, that the farmhouses are all grouped together, in a village location, with their little barns and stables around them. The fields are outside the village and this is why the church bells are important. So they start a five minute clanging at 6.30 am, which I assume means get yourself off to the fields. Then at 11.30am, they start again, which is the call to come home for lunch. Then again in the evening, to signify the end of the working day.

There is very little farming done in the area now, the majority is kept to meadows, just cut at the end of the summer. You will see some fields of Maize, or the occasional field of grain. There is little in the way of livestock too. Each town or village seems to have at least one large manufacturing company and a large proportion of the locals work there, or in the local shops and bars. Despite it being an area of so much unspoilt land, very few now make their living from it. Yet the tradition of the bells still continues.

Of course, where there isn’t open grassland, it’s forest and the majority of folk are now are going back to having wood burners installed in their house, having previously ripped them out in the 1960s.

Logs are an important part of heating houses now and those little barns attached to the old farmhouses don’t go unused. Even Catherine, in her 100 year old house, has a garage, which houses a small, vintage tractor. In the late summer and autumn, many people take themselves off to the woods, on their tractors, to spend a day cutting wood that they have purchased from the owners. The neatly split and stacked logs, in huge stores outside houses almost seem like a status symbol. A kind of ‘Look at me, how much wood I’ve put away for the winter and isn’t it perfectly stacked’.

 The photos are of Grossfelden, near to Marburg, an example of a typical, old village in the area.

And While We Were There.

There was a small festival for Wallau while we were there and on the Sunday afternoon, various groups marched through the town and then onto the river meadows, where a beer tent had been erected. If you know anything about Germany, you will know Beer and Fests play a large part in everything. And I don’t have a problem with that.

The weather was surprisingly good that afternoon and I was highly amused by a local GP, who was more than a little squiffy, who took a liking to me. The fact that Mike was with me deterred him, not a jot and he disappeared over the road, having told me to wait and returned with a bunch of flowers, picked from the display at the local Bank.

We were nearly late going down to see the bands, as there had been a bit of excitement in the morning. I’d noticed a small creature running around, down the road but wasn’t sure if it was a cat or a small dog.

Isabella went out to play and met up with her friend from across the road, who had a small, wet, bedraggled dog, on a lead. She had found it running around. Various phone calls resulted in a Vet coming to see if the wee thing was micro-chipped. By the time the Vet arrived, she was able to tell us that the dog belonged to a lady staying in a weekend chalet. She had had no sleep looking for her little girl. Isabella was so proud of helping to find the dog’s owner but also a little disappointed, as she would have liked to keep it.

In our second week Mike and I took off to Heidelberg and the Rhine Valley, which was lovely. Sadly the weather wasn't but it was still worth the trip.

All the time we were at Catherine’s was the constant cackle of geese, over the road. Amazing how quickly you learn to sleep through it, that and the Bells!!

On To Germany

It was of course dark by the time we disembarked and immediately I was thrown into driving on the wrong side of the road. The plan being, to get as far as I could before parking up for the night.

That was going to be an unknown quantity but had read that many others park at Motorway Services for the night and as long as you keep your doors locked, should be a safe experience. Unlike the tight wads in the UK, you can park overnight at Services without being charged.

We did hear the occasional vehicles coming and going during the night but both slept well, ready to complete the journey to Wallau, where my daughter and family live. 

As luck would have it the weather had gone from being 30C, two days before we got there to around 15C, grey, miserable and often damp. Matters weren't improved by me either breaking, or dislocating a toe, whilst bringing our stuff into the house and then I had some sort of gut infection, which gave me a raging temperature a lot of the time, struggling to eat and getting awful griping pains at times.

This aside, we managed to have a good time, with lots of high points. The low point being, due to feeling ill and overtired, I allowed Mike to irritate me, when I should have just ignored him, which ended up in a massive row.

The next morning, we weren't speaking and he went out to do some gardening at the front of the house and I went down the road to post a postcard to Mum. On my return, I spotted the rear passenger tyre (well I can’t say nearside, as in Germany, presumably it would be offside?) was totally flat. So, we had to start talking again. I won’t bore you with the details but it was the next day before we got it sorted. 

Having taken the wheel down to the local tyre place, we were informed that the tyre was 11 years old and therefore illegal in Germany. We checked and the other front tyre was the same and there were many little cracks showing around the rim.

120Euros for the one tyre. I was a bit miffed by this, as we had just bought the vehicle and wasn't expecting to have to replace two tyres on our first trip away. So I rang Elite, the dealer we bought The Goddess from and said I was less than happy that they would sell a vehicle, after it’s warranty check, with tyres that were so old and clearly likely to be a danger before too many miles were put on them. Pause…….

I never do this sort of thing but remained silent and the lady on the phone offered to pay for the other new tyre. Not only that, she put £120 straight into our bank, so a very good deal for us.

During our nearly two weeks at Catherine’s we had a train trip to Frankfurt, on a special weekend deal. This was quite exciting as my first trip on a double decker train, very modern but also very crowded, as unfortunately Frankfurt Football Team were playing at home that day.

Luckily it remained fairly dry until just before we returned to the station, when the heavens opened. Had a look around the Cathedral, which my father had photographed in its bomb damaged state in April 1945. There is the weirdest ever crucifixion artwork imaginable in there. It is a Tryptic but I’ll just post one section of it here, to show the bizarre details. 

Mike and I decided on a Sausage Sharing Plate for lunch. Won’t be doing that again!!!

Look at my grandaughter's face!!

Frankfurt Cathedral, my father was here days before the end of the War and took photos showing the bomb damage.

Strange Artwork inside the Cathedral.

Leaving Good Old Blighty.

Newport Pagnell left behind us and off we headed to Kent. This was getting exciting but we were rather ahead of time. 

Having reached the port at Dover, we decided to check in early, thinking we could just park up and relax.

The lady on the desk had other ideas. For an additional payment of £20, we could catch the earlier ferry, which was just about to leave.

That sounded like a good idea, so having paid the money, could I please drive very fast to the ship?

That was hilarious! If you have ever gone from Dover, you will know there is this long drive through something that looks like a set from The Sweeney, all concrete pillars and a very ‘back end of beyond’ feel to it.

I’d been told to drive fast so, I did, performing an almost, handbrake turn, onto the ferry, Gave us a good laugh!.

Anyway, we made it and we had the added bonus of sailing away with a beautiful sunset behind us.

Conquering Germany, (Well, First Stop Newport Pagnell)

Having left Worcester, our first port of call was Newport Pagnell. We hadn’t seen Mike’s Mum and Sister for weeks, so breaking the journey to Dover seemed a good solution.

As my brother in law is very disabled, following a stroke and various other health problems, we had insisted we camp out on the drive, although Mike’s sister Val cooked us a lovely lamb chop dinner.

The evening was something of an eye opener. Mike’s Mum, who had appeared to be at death’s door a few months earlier, was now back on form eating well and having 2 sherries a night. Trouble is, she only weighs 6 stone, so by the second one, she was getting a little bolshy. Not the sort of behaviour you expect from a 94 year old but certainly something I shall be aspiring to, if I live that long!

Bedtime was interesting, as there was an 80s concert at the local Football stadium. Rather nice to listen to and thankfully stopped at 11, as my word, it was LOUD!!

Sunday morning I went for a stroll, as I knew I had a lot of driving ahead of me. People tend to think of Newport Pagnell as part of Milton Keynes. Not so, it is still very much a country market town, with the Aston Martin Factory still very prominent in the town.

 Oldest iron bridge that is still in constant use. Ironbridge is  older but no longer used by traffic.

Just at the end of their road, this is where my Brother-in-Law once worked.

September Begins.

After our weekend at The Gathering, we returned home on Sunday, 1st September but this was to a different home. We were now the visitors and had been demoted to The Guest Bedroom. 

What we were doing was killing time before we headed across The Channel to visit my daughter, Catherine and her family, in Germany. We also wanted to be there for Edward’s first day at school.

Very strange being a guest in your own home.

Edward went off to school as happy as Larry on the Thursday and then Saturday, Mike and I left to start our journey to Dover.