which is actually Newark Priory, a wonderful ruin dating back to the 12th century which sits on private land off the backwaters of the Wey.
Like many monasteries and Priorys, it fell victim to the Dissolution instigated by Henry VIII and has lain in a state of disrepair ever since.
As kids, we used to canoe to the priory and have impromptu picnics and barbecues roasting jacket potatoes and sausages on an open fire there - all very 'Swallows and Amazons Forever' really. As teens we once dared each other to camp in the ruins overnight, but if memory serves me right, we all lasted until just after midnight then hotfooted it back across the fields to Papercourt Lock where our parents boats were moored having spooked ourselves silly seeing black clad monks in the shadows and mists that swirl around the priory late at night! I think I also managed to sit in a fairly fresh cowpat that evening (well it was dark!) and ended up being given a wide berth by all and sundry thereafter!
Walking along the towpath with my mother yesterday, I'd forgotten quite how much she knows about the river and the plant life growing around Newark Lock,
about the wild hops growing in the hedgerow,
or the Blackthorn in glorious blossom cloaking the silhouette of a gnarled old tree only now just waking from it's winter slumbers,
Just how lucky was I to grow up here as a child - before a time when we became obsessed with health and safety and no manner of nasty bogey men lurking around imaginary corners intent on depriving us of our childhood innocence? I had so much freedom at my disposal - my brother and I would disappear almost for days on end making camps and exploring the waterways in canoes my father made for us, having first taught us to swim in a school pool he'd also made - and we took it all for granted as kids always do!
One day it's my intention to write properly about this place - I've had the embryo of a story mulling about in my head for what seems like years now; having been back to the river yesterday, I feel a few steps closer to actually sitting down and making a start...
What a lovely post, Kate. It is such a shame that children today don't have the same freedoms as before. It sounds idyllic - roaming and having adventures day and night. (And with parents who knew the river and a father who made boats!) Thanks for sharing those memories with us.
ReplyDeleteWishing you a good start with the story (and I would like to reciprocate the offer that you made to me about reading your story, if you'd like...)
Fabulous post! I also had an idyllic childhood, growing up along the McKenzie river in Oregon. It was fed by snow melt and was outrageously cold all year round, but we were in it all day every summer. My brother and I used to act out scenes from The Tempest on a little rocky island in the river. He was Prospero, I was Miranda and our little cocker spaniel with the bad disposition was Caliban. I wish I could have given my children the same free childhood I had.
ReplyDelete@Lynn - What a great idea, I'd love to take you up on your offer! I'm hoping to make a start when Ian goes back to work next month but must warn you I've not written anything other than this blog in a few years now so it's likely to be ummm pretty hard going for a bit!
ReplyDelete@Cenya - I'm going to have to look up the McKenzie river now as I love the thought of you and your brother playing out The Tempest in that manner. Like you I wish I could have given my daughter the same freedom as I had as a child - I wonder quite how many adventures have been lost along the way because of the climate in which our children have grown up in?
I had a childhood roaming country lanes on my own - seems unthinkable now. I do hope you do make a start on the story you have in your head - I think because of recent losses I'm feeling that we all need to make the most of each day rather than putting things off, but of course there are limits to how much we can stretch time with a family! Thanks so much for your message, I know I'm not alone in losing a much-loved pet, it just seems such a risk to open ourselves up to losing another, but life goes on and the boys are asking if we can think about it. Thanks again xx
ReplyDeleteThanks for popping by Felted House, I'm sorry though that it's off the back of such sadness in your life. Hope things start looking on the up for you soon, I think all we can ever do on such occasions is keep on keeping on if that makes sense?
ReplyDeleteKate x