Day 6 -- Swanning about
At breakfast, lady of the house recommended me taking the coast road today, the weather being clear and who knows how long it will stay so. She suggested Abbotsbury to Bridport as a likely stretch.
Mrs. Longford was biddable today, and showed me how to get to Abbotsbury, where I decided to take in the swannery -- which holds a repulsive fascination for me, kind of like viewing a maggot farm.
(And why all this animus against swans -- what I call "swanimus" -- you ask? I did a stretch at the phone company's library in San Ramon in the late 80's, and made a daily wary passage past a pair of swans that infested the corporate lake, swans well-known for their squalid habits and nasty dispositions. The then-head of the library became something of a folk hero out at "San Remote" for valiantly battling the swans for possession of the daily papers one day -- his only weapons an open umbrella and moxie.)
Was pleasantly surprised by how beautifully it is laid out -- willows and reeds, shady paths gently winding through dappled light... until you see the list of advised behavior around swans (it compares to mountain lions -- keep your hands in sight, move slowly and speak quietly, don't make eye contact and WHATEVER YOU DO DON'T TURN AND RUN).
This is the only colony of mute swans in the world -- even swans don't want to be around swans -- but this stretch of coast, with both fresh and salt water is ideal nesting for them, so they've beset the region en masse since medieval times, when the monastery farmed them to local posh tables. Mute is a bit of a misnomer -- they sound like chihuahuas with whooping cough. About half the nests were still nursing eggs, the rest had adorable grey powder puffs bobbing around. Swan-gon, I can't believe I'm back in Swan-gon. Apparently Pavlova and her troupe came here once to perform... well, you guessed it.
And if the swans don't get you, the bouncing bombs will...
In an uncharacteristically mellow mood, Mrs. Longford agreed to guide me to my next stop, Killerton. Stretch of coast highway to Bridport is indeed lovely, but hey, British people -- would it kill you to widen your road a little? Just a foot on each side would have saved me a lot of white knuckle time here.
At a quiet moment waiting for a construction delay, discovered that radio BBC3 is playing full orchestral version of "Bride of Frankenstein" music.
Funny village names: Eype... Swyre... Worget.
Killerton, another Georgian house. It's the second floor I really came for, the Paulise de Bush costume collection -- the current exhibit focusing on curator and volunteer favorites. One current curator remembers as a lad asking the TV show "Jim'll Fix It" to help him get into costume conservation. One of my favorites was what the volunteer who chose it called the chocolate box dress, because it came to as a delightful surprise opening up a box of unknown contents. The colors on the embroidery are remarkably fresh for an 18th century frock -- they think it may have been recycled from a bedspread! A room steward said she's been staring at one piece of lace for too long -- all she can see is one flaw along the top. Another piece of lace has iridescent beetle wings sewn into it.
Knightshayes wasn't too far off. Bus with 110 Austrians was right in front of me (have no idea how they manage to get bus up teeny weeny lane to house). First owner was chased out of former place of business up north by Luddites, who objected to his plan to introduce mechanical lace making. Two hundred workers walked about a hundred miles to keep working for this guy. He built this "medieval" baronial hall in the mid nineteenth century. The bird frieze in the second floor bedroom (spot the monkey!) isn't original, but was recreated from the architect's drawings to show what it could have been like if the artists had been given their head. Found it all very charming -- wished I had more time, since I prefer Victorian neo-medieval to Georgian, even with costumes upstairs. Gardens were gorgeous, all plants blooming and in peak form. Topiary showed animals chasing each other over top of hedges. Using them as my inspiration, I kept one hop ahead of the Austrians, and managed to get out before they unshackled the bus again.
Suddenly, Mrs. Longford no habla navigacion...
I began to scream obscenities. The route in had been complex, and far from any main road -- I couldn't possibly get out by myself. "You've lured me to this quiet spot to KILL me, Mrs. Longford!"