Afternoon walk past Washingborough

Washingborough tractor and plough

In the morning I had walked from Washingborough to Heighington.

This afternoon, I walked part of the route, but instead of cutting through the village, I continued on up Church Hill past Washingborough Hall, to the main road, over the top, then along Cliff Lane as far as I could go.

On my way up, an enormous tractor with a plough on the back. The tractor had tracks like a tank.

Although a chill in the air, with the sun, it felt like a spring day, except the trees were not in leaf and the ground was carpeted with snowdrops and celandine.

Washingborough is a small Lincolnshire village not far outside of Lincoln.

Lunch at the Butcher and Beast

Butcher and Beast

mushroom soup

fried haddock in batter

Butcher and Beast is one of two pubs in the Lincolnshire village of Heighington, not far from Washingborough, a little way out from Lincoln.

A small pub with an open coal fire in the winter.

Interesting old photos on the walls. One showed hay making. It could have been a scene from Cider With Rosie. Apart from the ancient tractor, this was farming as it had always been. The date was 1948. Farming changed rapidly after the Second World War.

Lincolnshire is an agricultural county, and yet Lincoln a centre of heavy industry. Its origins producing agricultural machinery. The engineering companies and foundries long gone, replaced by retail sheds skilled work replaced by low paid unskilled workers. The foundries created wealth for the area, the retail sheds drain money out of the local economy.

A small bar with a selection of real ales, mainly Bateman’s, a Lincolnshire beer. I had water.

Butcher and Beast has a reputation for good food. I was disappointed.

The home made mushroom soup was excellent. The choice was mushroom or potato and leek.

Tuesday is fish day. They have a fresh delivery of fish from Grimsby on a Tuesday, and that was the reason for being there. Fish n chips is not something I would normally eat in a pub as they usually do a poor job and the Butcher and Beast was no exception.

The fried haddock was served on a cold plate with a tiny bit of salad. Chips and mushy peas were served in separate dishes.

They had not troubled to take the skin off the haddock, and I did not think to ask. Leave the skin on haddock and it taints the fish, giving it a vile taste.

Looking at what other people had, it did not look appetising.

Butcher and Beast has a good reputation. If this is what classes as good locally, I hate to think what the other places are like.

I was looking forward to the fish n chips. I was in for a disappointment. And at £8-95 it was very expensive for fish n chips.

Far better fish n chips can be had at the fish n chip shop in nearby Washingborough, at the Elite fish n chip restaurant on Tritton Road (near junction with Doddington Road) in Lincoln, and (I am told) from the fish n chip on Burton Road in Lincoln.

Butcher and Beast is not somewhere I will be returning to, at least not for its fish n chips.

Afternoon spent wandering around Heighington, apart from stone cottages not a lot to see, then afternoon tea at the Beckside Tea Room, by the Heighington Beck.

Afternoon in Heighington

Heighington

Heighington is a small village of stone cottages in Lincolnshire, a little further out than Washingborough.

Washingborough sits on the escarpment of Lincoln Edge overlooking the River Witham. Heighington is on the other side of the slope.

Lunch at the Butcher and Beast, one of two pubs in Heighington, the other The Turks Head. Butcher and Beast is much overrated for its food. The home made mushroom soup was excellent, the same could not be said for their fish n chips. Tuesday being fresh fish day.

After lunch a wonder around the village. I found it to be much larger than I expected, footpaths and narrow lanes running off the main road through the village, a very fast running beck running through the village.

A narrow path ran along the Beck to another road, and a large water mill. I was surprised at the size of it. Similar in size to the water mill in the centre of Winchester (behind Winchester Cathedral). The water mill now residential, no information on the mill.

The village must be on a spring line, this is the location of most of these villages. Water pumps everywhere, but sadly none were working (unless they were for show). During the heavy rain before Christmas, springs were erupting everywhere in Heighington.

Interesting tiling on the outside of the village Post Office. Inside, much smaller than would expect from the exterior. The Post Office was also a little deli, excellent cakes, cheeses.

I was thinking what is needed is a little tea shop. I walked around the corner and there by the Heighington Beck, a little tea shop, Beckside Tea Room. A pleasant place to sit in the summer. I returned later for afternoon tea and was told brown trout in the Beck.

I was curious where the Beck was sourced, but no one knew.

Along one of the roads, I spotted a church, but I did not investigate as it is very rare to find open.

Were this village in the Cotswolds it would be busy, lots of little shops and tea shops. Apart from a few dog walkers, then kids coming home from school, the streets were deserted.

No information anywhere about the village.

Late afternoon in the snow

a glimpse of Washingborough Hall through the trees

entrance to Washingborough Hall

Morning a taxi landed in the garden. Baffled how it got there and the driver vanished without paying for damage caused.

Midday clearing snow off the drive, then with help of neighbours, clearing the road, or as best we could.

A lot more snow had fallen than I realised until I started clearing it. Around twice the depth of snow to a couple of days ago. An hour and a half snow clearing.

Late afternoon, the light was failing, I decided to take a walk in the countryside.

Up Church Hill, past Washingborough Hall, over the main road, and down Cliff Lane.

The roads were slush, but once over the main road and into Cliff Lane, hard crushed snow and crunch snow, Very slippery. Concentrate and you are ok, let mind wander a moment and whoosh, you are over. I was over 2-3 times.

There must have been a blizzard in the night, trees, bushes branches and posts white with snow down one side.

As I was coming back up the lane, I did not go far down as light dropping and too slippery, a young woman came by in a car. I stood to one side. She drove by, gave me a big smile. Tied to the back of her car was a kid on a sledge. Fun but very dangerous. Only a short rope, had she stopped suddenly, the kid would have been in the back of the car or under the car.

There was no way she was going to get back up the hill, and that was assuming she was able to turn her car around, as I was having difficulty walking. If she was travelling constant speed, then maybe she would get back up the hill, but try change speed, her wheels would spin and she would be stuck or worse be off the lane and into a field or ditch.

I talked to a man with a 4×4 and expressed my concern. He agreed, it was pretty crazy what she had done. Though to be fair to her, she seeemed ok and unlike the drivers I had so far seen that day, she could be someone who knew how to drive in the snow though without a 4×4 I had my doubts she could get up the hill.

He had a Land Rover a real 4×4 and said he would drive down and see she was ok. I offered to go with him, but he said he would be ok.

I then met a little girl, she was leading a dog and the dog was pulling a sledge. I asked her why she was not in the sledge with the dog pulling? She said he would, but he liked to walk around and she was letting him warm up first. I warned her to to take care as there would be cars coming up the lane.

By now dusk.

Some drivers should not be let out. On the main road one was driving along, headlights on, but the front of the car covered with an inch or more of snow and lights barely visible. Another car sidelights only, again barely visible.

Now stiff and ache all over. A combination of shifting snow and slipping over in the snow.

More snow expected more snow to clear.

Late afternoon walk in the snow

Lincoln Cathedral seen across snowy landscape

Cliff Lane covered in snow

Sunshine cannot bleach the snow, Nor time unmake what poets know. — Emerson

Snowed Friday afternoon, then again Friday night.

Saturday I left it too late to be worth going out for a walk.

Last afternoon I decided to go for a country walk.

Up Church Hill, past Washingborough Hall.

I had a chat with the local farmer who had the last couple of days dug several hundred tonnes of sugar beet out of the ground.

Up to the top, over the main road, and along Cliff Lane.

The roads had been cleared, the paths unpleasant slush where the snow had melted.

Cliff Lane was hard compressed snow, very slippery. I was sliding more than walking, but just managed to keep my balance.

More snow is expected tonight

A walk in a Siberian wilderness

A walk in a Siberian wilderness or at least that is what it felt like. The trees were white, but not white with snow they were white with frost from the freezing fog, the fields white with fallen snow.

I took the same walk as yesterday, only this time I went to the end of the country lane. could have carried on as the muddy tracks no frozen or will be with a few more days of subzero temperature, but I was feeling tired, it was late afternoon and the light was fading I decided to turn around and head back.

Afternoon walk near Washingborough

afternoon walk along country lane

low sun shimmering on cobwebs in ploughed field

An afternoon walk along a country lane that goes nowhere.

Up Church Hill past Washingborough Hall, to the top, cross the main road, then along the lane opposite.

Well not strictly true, does not go anywhere. At the end of the lane tracks heading off in three directions, but too muddy to follow. After a hard frost yes.

Before Christmas the fields were flooded, what had looked like standing pools of water were flowing.

In nearby Heighington, springs appeared.

The field has now been ploughed. The sun was reflecting off the field, not as as I first thought off the ploughed soil, the field was covered in cobwebs, as was the grass edges. A path of light, as would get with the setting sun across the sea.

Coming back, by the time Washingborough Hall reached, my legs had turned to lead.

New Year Day lunch at Washingborough Hall

Washingborough Hall Grade II listed Georgian Manor House

roast vegetable soup

salmon

roast belly of pork

Washingborough Hall is a Grade II listed Georgian Manor House set within its own grounds, in the centre of Washingborough, a small village of old stone cottages, on the limestone escarpment of Lincoln Edge overlooking the River Witham, not far out of Lincoln. A path running through a gate in the wall connects Washingborough Hall with the village church.

In recent years many of the trees in the grounds have been cut down. It opens up the grounds, but has led to a significant loss of trees. Maybe the wood feeds the wood burning stove in the main entrance hall.

A guide rail rather spoils the entrance, but necessary for those less able. It was decorated with holly, which somewhat defeated its utility!

Inside, quite impressive Christmas decorations.

Whilst waiting for dinner, over attentive staff handed out something to eat. No idea what it was, but it tasted quite pleasant.

On offer today a special New Year Day lunch. A fixed menu, two courses (soup and main) or three courses (soup, main and dessert).

The soup was roasted vegetables. It seemed to be mainly parsnip, puréed vegetables. I was none too impressed.

For main a choice of beef, pork, salmon or wild mushroom risotto.

We chose Panache of Salmon & Bass, Crevette Velouté and Caramelised Belly of Pork, Spiced Apple Compote, served with a dish of vegetables.

Panache of Salmon & Bass, Crevette Velouté was served with baby new potatoes. Nicely presented but very meagre in portion size. More like a starter.

Caramelised Belly of Pork was served with roast potatoes. I assume slow cooked, but it did not say. The crackling was crisp and crunchy, without being hard. Gravy was on the plate not in a gravy boat to help oneself. We were not asked if we wanted gravy.

The pork was delicious. I wish I had asked how it was cooked, and from where sourced. I suspect the nearby village of Heighington, which has an excellent butcher.

The vegetables were carrots, peas in their pods, green beans, broccoli and rather overpowering red cabbage. I like red cabbage, but this was spoilt by being sweet (more like jam) and there was rather a lot of it.

The vegetables were not as claimed on the menu ‘fresh seasonal vegetables grown locally’. The peas and bean were I suspect air-freighted in from Kenya.

The desserts did not look especially enticing. The offer of desserts we declined.

Tea and coffee came with a small lump of what was claimed to be home made fudge. The coffee (I did not try), appeared to be bog standard filter coffee. The request for a coffee latte was ignored. With most people used to drinking quality coffee (and I do not mean rubbish from Costa or tax dodging Starbucks) in indie coffee shops I am surprised more effort was not made with the coffee, especially as according to the sign in the street they were serving Stokes coffee.

The two local girls serving very plesant.

I have had far better meals at less far less price. With food, it is never you get what you pay for. There is no correlation between price and quality.

The Foresters serves far better food, albeit nowhere nearby.

Two courses £22.95, three courses £26.95. For three of us, my treat, £68.85. Ouch! The menu we were handed on arrival had no mention of price.

Although the food was good, we agreed, poor value for money.

Completely clueless in their use of social media.

Contrails over Washingborough

contrails over Washingborough

contrails over Washingborough

This morning at around 10am clear blue sky and looking West at least 16 contrails in the sky.

Looking East about ten minutes later, yet more contrails covering the sky.

I then had AWACs flying overhead all day.

They’ve lost God!

Two naughty boys went to Church every Sunday.

They were always badly behaved, they would run around, shout, up-skittle chairs and generally make a nuisance of themselves.

One day one of the boys was too ill to go to church so one of the naughty boys went on his own.

As he was on his own, he decided he would have to be twice as naughty to make up for the absence of his friend. He wrought havoc in the church that Sunday.

The Rector had had enough. He grabbed the boy by the scruff and roared at him: Where is God!?

He let go of him, then told him to go home and give serious thought to where was God. He said he expected answers the following Sunday.

The boy got home and called his friend: They’ve lost God and they are trying to pin it on us.

As told by the Rector of St John’s in Washingborough at Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve.

- Midnight Mass at St John’s