Wednesday, September 17, 2014

I ogled a castle



I am staying in a castle at the moment.  Be it a rather small castle. This castle will be my accommodation for two more days. 


It is in the north of England.  Far north.  Just a tad north-west of Newcastle and only a few miles short of Scotland’s border.  This castle is one of a number of little castles in the Northumberland area.  From what I gather it has a long history of involvement in the Scottish-English marauding and battles.  I shall not maraud or battle but enjoy some quiet, self-time in this castle and its surrounds.


Why here and why this castle?  Because I can.  


And because in July after Sister Delwyn reminded me of its existence it was added to my ‘If I Had Time I Would Like To Do’ list.  By chance I found I have the time.  



The ‘castle’ (it really is now only a largish house but is known as a castle and shall continue to refer to it as such) is called Ogle Castle.  The first written history about the castle, that I am aware of, was in 1341 which means it would have been built prior to that date and most probably in the century or three earlier as the first recorded history of a person named Ogle is lodged in the Magna Carta in 1066.  A chap called Humphrey.  A descendant of the Saxons.  It was in 1341 that King Edward 111 had the Ogle manner named as a castle, Ogle Castle. 


                        Ogle Coat of Arms / Ogle Family Crest


My paternal grandmother was an Ogle.  At home on my bookshelf is a book written on the history of the Ogles from New Zealand back through the centuries in Britain to their known origin.  The book, or journal as it really is only a journal, was given to me by my grandmother’s daughter in recent years.  Pity is, it would be a good few years since I read the book and of course, due to much of it referring to the British history, I did not retain too much of that which I read.  Consequently when Sister Delwyn reminded me there was an Ogle Castle in Northumberland I expressed surprise.  My floppy disc brain always takes a while for it to whir and regurgitate the information stored and it wasn’t until much later that some of the history I had read in our family book began to return to the somewhat failing hard drive.


Ogle is not a common name, there are a few in New Zealand, some in Australia and a number in the US, all descendants of original immigrants from Britain.  There is no doubt that any Ogles in the world today will have some DNA link to one another.  And that DNA would be traced back to here, this very place I am presently at.


Therefore, once I knew I would be in the UK longer than anticipated the concept of visiting Ogle Castle became a possibility.  And here I am.  Writing this sitting in a quaint, yet solid four-poster bed, in a room that has a large stone fireplace, and the room has windows on both my left and my right overlooking beautiful gardens.  The windows give one the feel they have been thrown back in time to the 12th or 13th century – they show the walls of the castle are two foot thick.

                

The view from my bedroom window:

                


I took afternoon tea in one of the lounges yesterday, its fireplace was huge.  Delwyn and I visited Hampton Court Castle in July and the fireplace in that castle’s kitchen was enormous, big enough to stand up in – the fireplace here is almost as large.  

               



Over the centuries the Ogle Castle fell into ruin, so much of it has disappeared leaving only this present building which was only one small wing of the original castle.  Thankfully this has survived, be it for many years as farm buildings but in recent years reconverted into living accommodation and now run as a private bed and breakfast hotel.  Probably one of the more unique ones I have stayed in during my many stays in various places these past four months.


The castle is for sale, at quite a nominal price, $NZ 2,600,000.  Well, the castle is not for sale, this left over part of the castle which is now described as a ‘detached 9 bedroom house’ on the castle estate is for sale.  With its nine acres and separate stone built 3 bedroom, 2 lounge house at its entrance way.  A snip of a price.  




                     Ogle Castle Bed & Breakfast

Should you feel like a life style break, something different to do for a couple or more years, buy this place.  I am sure you would enjoy the English country life style – I note there is a market day in the local town today, the ideal place to sell the eggs from the hens you would have running on the property.  Or the bread you bake in the enormous fire places.


I have already seen the area is popular with local cyclists as had to negotiate passing three or four on my journey here yesterday.  On these lovely, country lanes negotiating the passing of a cyclist is not an easy or relaxed task.  With the lanes being so narrow and inevitably winding, with the hedgerows so high one cannot see any oncoming traffic, or sheep, there is little opportunity to pass safely which means one tends to have to drive at a cycling speed for a period before planting the foot on the accelerator for the only one hundred metre opportunity of passing.


And one can swim locally too. Before checking into the castle yesterday I visited the local town and to my annoyance parked right outside the town swimming pool.  Annoyance because I had no swim suit or goggles or towels with me and it would have been prime opportunity to test my memory recall on the ability to swim again.


After this scribe I shall don my rather tired and semi-redundant looking running shoes and head out onto those narrow lanes and negotiate my way around the bends and see how well I can run for a whole fifteen minutes, before turning around and returning the fifteen minute journey.  That will be about it.


The nice thing is, somewhere on that thirty minute journey I will most certainly be treading some footsteps, some pathway that some far, far and distant relative of mine would have tread back in the twelfth or thirteenth century.   Cool aye!

                      Ogle Coat of Arms / Ogle Family Crest
 
    
               The Ogle motto is:
                 Prenez en GrĂ© 
               
"Accept in Gratitude"

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

That damn mirror again



Oh God, I did it again.  I looked in the mirror.

We were going out to dinner at a local beachside restaurant so I showered, dressed and went to put a little make up on to make myself look nice and presentable.  So I stood in front of the mirror and looked.  Then looked again.  And thought ‘damn’!   

Damn.  Damn. Damn it.

When he who created man and woman put them on earth, why did he have to have them age?  If he was so great and so clever, why could he not have placed us on this earth and kept us looking at our prime, forever?

Don’t tell me it was to keep the population down – that we had to age and die to allow the new generation through.  If he was clever enough to make us he should have been clever enough to give us the ability to procreate until the earth was populated with exactly the right number of humans to keep it a vibrant, productive and a happy place to be, forever.  Then he could have all our reproductive bits drop off, or out, and keep the earth’s population maintained at one perfect level, thereby keeping us ageless. For ever and ever.

But he didn’t.

I sighed, that mournful-type sigh of resignation and continued to apply lipstick, with the aid of the strongest glasses I had so that the aging and forever fading eyesight could ensure the lipstick went on the lips and not all over the chin.

Then I remembered.  I remembered Tony.   I remembered those lovely words he used to say to me so often whenever I complained of the aging processes on our bodies.  I wrote about it last year, and will paste the relevant part of that writing here:

….then I was reminded of what Tony had said many, many years ago when I first had a clear, magnified look at my face and bemoaned the fact to him that age, sun and outdoor pursuits are not conducive to keeping at bay the inevitable results of time, ozone holes and weather exposure.  No longer would there ever be a lineless, clear, smooth appearance on this facial full frontal.

Darling Tony immediately responded to my negativity with his endearing, positive retort, “Well my sweet, that’s why whoever our maker was had our eyesight decline with declining years too.  Because with my eyesight getting worse with age I can’t see any of those faults you moan about, I can’t see those lines and imperfections.  To me you look as beautiful as you ever were when we first met.” 

That was so Tony.

The reflection on that memory had me smile.  It brought me back to reality and I relooked at the face in the mirror and reminded myself that looking back at me was a face with a life time of living memories.   

Every line, crease, scar and every sun spot was made with and by memories.   
That young, lineless, clear, smooth face of many decades ago was poignantly naive, gingerly unsophisticated, unsophisticatedly inexperienced and had not yet lived.  This face in the mirror now has lived;  it represents a life that has been full but not yet a full life, and I should be proud of it. 

I am.