An Admiral of the Blue

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Bradford on Avon to Bath, along the K&A canal, is not far – maybe ten miles. Almost immediately on the outskirts of Bradford is a 14th century tithe barn, so over-restored that it looks like a (successful) stockbroker’s second home. I have read that the interior is worth seeing but it was not open early yesterday morning.

Then there are two aqueducts, Avoncliff and Dundas, the latter named after the first chairman of the Kennet and Avon Canal Company. This is the Avoncliff carrying the canal over the Avon and a road.

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For almost all our walk yesterday the canal criss-crossed  the Avon, the railway and roads. The stonework in these parts is called Bath stone but to be pedantic is Jurassic limestone. As it ages it mutates from pristine whiteness to a glowing honey colour. Last night we stayed at Lynchett’s in Bradford on Avon. It is a Georgian townhouse and the interior is beautiful and typical of many 18th century houses where wool money gave people the means to build so handsomely.

Daniel Defoe visited Bradford on Avon in the early 18th century and commented : “they told me at Bradford on Avon that it was no extra-ordinary thing to have clothiers in that county worth £10,000 to £40,000 per man”. The beautiful architecture bears out his assertion.

On the edge of Bath lies the village of Bathampton. Before patronising the pub, Ian and I stepped into the 13th century church where Arthur Phillip, an Adimiral of the Blue, is buried. He was the first governor of New South Wales and is credited as the founder of Australia; a pretty dodgy claim and I think native Australians might agree with me.

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However, to digress, it reminds me of when I was fishing in Scotland on the Awe staying with a friend who ran a B&B. The cook had thrown a sickie and so a friend of his was in the kitchen knocking up dinner for us all, including an American couple who had booked in for a night. Mr American came downstairs to say that his wife was put out: there was only a bath and no shower – could they move to another room? As Cobby, for that is my friend’s name, reflected on this request his friend burst out of the kitchen, somewhat red in the face, befitting a cook, saying “did I hear you ask for a shower? In this country it is very common to take a shower, only coal miners have showers”.

The American retreated thinking that it would be easier to placate his wife than the stroppy cook. Cobby looked at his friend and said admiringly, “well that was telling him”. She replied “my father was governor of New South Wales – I know how to deal with these colonials”.

There is an Australian chapel inside the church and plenty of info about the early settlers.

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