First trip of 2022

 Decided on a day trip with Alf today to see how he is in the car. It wasn't until I joined the A505 through Baldock that I had an inkling of where I wanted to go.

I haven't visited Ashwell for over 20 years. The last time, it was summer. The place was thronging and there was nowhere to park, so we didn't stay.

I was keen to walk beside the Spring, and was rewarded by the sight of hundreds of old-fashioned snowdrops.

There was one other person there, a local, throwing a ball for her spaniel. Alf had a little romp and lost interest, being keen on exploring all the new scents.

The Spring itself is somewhat of a disappointment, although it is crystal clear. It is a Site of Special Scientific Interest. 

Mention is made of how busy the village gets in good weather, as my memory had reminded me.

Aswell is in the North Herts District of Hertfordshire, as is my home town.

I didn't risk the crossing as Alf would have to be on-lead and I was loathe to get wet feet if he pulled hard. I might have done, if I'd been wearing wellies, but, even then, there was no towel in the car for a muddy, wet, dog.

Haven't had some free, wanderings, beside the spring, among the snowdrops, I put Alf on his lead and headed off to find the church. 

On the way, we passed the Three Tuns, a 200 year old village Inn. There were lots of cars in the carpark, and evidence of people finishing their lunches, inside.

Ashwell's St Mary's is difficult to spot from the road. It is only when we came upon Church Path, that we knew we were heading in the right direction.

In 1956 the Poet Laureate Sir John Betjeman wrote of St Mary's:

"So I went to Ashwell which is near nowhere, unless it be Baldock, and on the road to nothing, thank God. We first saw its gigantic dark grey fourteenth-century church tower, crowned with a tapering lead flèche, rising from huge elms on chalky foothills looking over open corn land to the levels of Hunts and Cambs. ... And the church inside, white and spacious and East Anglian, with arcades like a Cathedral, clear glass everywhere, uneven floors and splendid chancel, was worthy of the best of English villages.

The village contains many ancient buildings, including the Ashwell Museum on the corner of Swan Street and Alms Lane.

Housed in a Grade 2* listed Tudor timber-framed building, the museum originated in the enthusiasm for history of some schoolboys from Ashwell's Merchant Taylors' school, in the 1920s

I really enjoyed the stroll through the historic part of Ashwell. The weather was bright and sunny, but very cold.

It wasn't until I was on my way home that I missed Eamonn's presence. He was always willing to indulge my love of history, especially of this part of England. Driving along the Hertfordshire lanes didn't trigger the feeling of loss. Only when I turned onto the dual-carriageway of the A505 did I miss him. He always preferred driving and, as a result of concentrating on the road and traffic, missed the beauty of the Hertfordshire countryside.