Well, after my own version of "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" (plane, bus, train, train, taxi), I finally arrived yesterday afternoon in Hawarden (pronounced Huh-arden) Wales, home of St. Deiniol's Library which is the residential facility that houses William Gladstone's library and is dedicated to "divine learning." They aren't quite sure what that means per Peter, the head of the Library, but that's what Gladstone indicated he wanted when he hauled all 33,000 of his books from Hawarden Castle, where he was living about 1/3 mile down the road, to this area next to Hawarden Church that, at the time, was initially just a corrugated tin shack. Luckily for the books, Gladstone died and it was decided to raise money to build this library as a public memorial to him and dedicated to his passion for books and sharing books. Another of his passions was walking the streets and talking to the prostitutes. He claimed he was trying to lure them to a life of virtue but being a politician, no one believed him so he started taking his wife along. Lucky her. The first pictures up top are of the man himself (well, a statue of the man himself), the library building and inside the library where you'll see Becky and Raphael surfing the web instead of reading books. Gladstone is probably turning over in his grave over in Hawarden parish next door.
I realized after I started writing this that I hadn't yet taken pictures so I dashed outside to take them. We were in class this evening from 8-9 pm (for those who don't know, I'm taking a course in Celtic Christianity at St. Deiniol's with a couple of my doctorate program candidates-- I'm doing it as an independent study electives). I decided to race outside to see if there was enough light to get the pictures. One of the benefits of being in northern Wales in the summer is, similar to northwestern Ireland last year, it gets dark much much later than I'm used to back in DC. These pictures were taken at 9:45 pm without a flash. Pretty nifty.
So that's enough about Gladstone . . . It's almost bedtime as the church bells next door chime 10 pm (and thankfully the don't start chiming until 7 am -- although last night the pheasants woke me up in the wee hours-- why do pheasant make noise in the middle of the night? I experienced that in Scotland years ago . . . I'll have to Google that later.) So, on to Chester.
After I arrived yesterday I met up with Becky and Joe-- my Wesley friends-- and we took the bus into Chester which is just over the border in England-- either 6 miles or 10 miles from Hawarden depending on whose information you believe. Joe had taken a walking tour of Chester in the morning so he gave us an abbreviated version, with a few tidbits of information. Becky and I decided we wanted to take the tour as well so the three of us headed back to Chester this morning and while Joe roamed around on his own, Becky and I did the tour. We had a different guide and consequently saw a few different places and learned different stories so it was a nice complement to the Joe walking tour, for which he didn't charge 5 pounds although I did buy him a Brains (great local creamy ale) later at the Blue Bell pub.
Chester was originally a Roman outpost and is the only walled city remaining in Britain. While we walked along part of the wall, we didn't complete the whole circuit although that may be on the agenda for when we have a free day. We also didn't go inside the cathedral (also on the agenda for our free day) which was originally a Benedictine monastery that became an Anglican parish church under Henry VIII. Evidently the abbot was given the choice of becoming of dean of the cathedral with his head and body intact or remaining abbot and having his head removed so he chose the former.
Chester is built on sandstone so many of the buildings, such as the cathedral, are made of sandstone. In the case of the cathedral, it's pink sandstone that has been aged to a dark red with black smudges over the years. There are also a lot of seventeenth century black and white timber buildings (a lot of them pubs or inns or restaurants) but unlike places such as Stratford, they are brick or sandstone up to what the Brits call the first floor (our second floor in the US) at which point the timber construction starts. Evidently because of the sandstone they couldn't easily embed timbers on the ground floor levels. Buildings usually don't have basements for the same reason and the cathedral, alas, is cryptless. Or so the tour guide said. Since she didn't take us in, we have to take her word for it for now.
Another unique characteristic of Chester is what's called "The Rows." Around the Roman Roads (which are now primarily pedestrian areas in the main shopping area) there are these two story buildings that have different shops on the ground floor and first floor levels with walkways along the first floor (our second floor) so you can walk undercover all around the pedestrian area and look down on the square without ever getting rained upon-- which it seems to do for a few minutes each day. The Rows also date back to about the sixteenth century and were used for commerce even back then, or so people suspect. In a few areas there are shops just below the street level as well. Even though there aren't basements, some places do have these somewhat subterranean areas that are used for storage, more long than deep. One that dates back to the 13th century and is thought to have been built by a wealthy merchant for some religious purpose has been converted into a trendy coffee shop so if you're ever in Chester bypass the Starbucks (yes, there is one here) and head for Cafe Venue in the crypt for your latte.
Being a Roman city, Chester also had an amphitheatre and they recently discovered that there were gladiator battles there through archaeological evidence they uncovered. No sending in the lions-- evidently the gladiators were chained to a stone block and bears and wolves were sent into the ring. We didn't see any of that today but we did see a tour guide dressed like a gladiator taking a group of school children around. Almost as dangerous.
Ok-- about time to go to finish my tea (how can you not love a place that has a tea kettle in your room for your own personal use???) and head to bed. I'll leave you with pictures of Chester-- the wall, the gladiator tour guide and an image of who I am assuming is St. David, patron of Wales as he's flanked by griffins (one of whom obviously did something wrong as Dewi Sant is pointing at him as if to say, "He's the one!").
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