The problem with being locked down for a while is that, eventually, you need a change. In the early days of the pandemic, we had the advantage of being in a small village, surrounded by a network of public footpaths. We were faithful to the rules, taking only one walk per day, but making it a decently long one. Indeed, we discovered some routes that, whilst we’d known they were there, we’d never walked before.
And, with a mild, dry Spring, we were able to get plenty of fresh air and exercise. Eventually, however, we’d exhausted many of the options and a change of scenery was required. Thankfully, that coincided with the reopening of some of the local National Trust properties on a limited basis.
We’ve not been members of the National Trust for very long - with our busy lives, we’d not really thought that we’d visit enough properties to make it worthwhile. We’re not even entirely bothered about the stately homes they preserve - they’re interesting, but not necessarily enthralling. However, the grounds are often rather lovely, and we do enjoy a walk in the countryside.
However, we’re not keen on crowds, especially in the current circumstances, so when the National Trust announced that admission would be strictly limited, and that pre-booking was required, our attention was instant. And now, our week has another punctuation mark, on a Friday when slots are released for the following week or so. Ros, being the early bird of the two of us, picks one of the properties and books two places so that we can have a nice stroll in relative peace.
We’ve been to Ickworth and Anglesey Abbey, Wicken Fen and Sutton Hoo, Blickling Hall and Oxburgh Hall, to name but a half dozen, and even if the weather isn’t brilliant, we’ve managed to take in some lovely scenery and burn some calories. The latter is useful because no National Trust visit is really complete without a nice cup of tea and a piece of cake, with perhaps a little browse in the gift shop afterwards.
Of course, the National Trust does have its critics. The recent “controversy” over slavery and the extent to which the profits of slavery allowed the building of many fine houses is merely resentment of the fact that, then as now, some people make their money by some rather suspect means. Buying and selling people was hardly morally upstanding, even by the standards of the day, but it was extremely lucrative. Ros and I take an interest in social history, and considering how someone made enough money to build such properties is, in itself, interesting. History is, after all, rather more than kings and queens, wars and famines.
As long as there’s a half-decent chance of a slice of lemon drizzle cake, I think we can probably cope with a little realism in our lives...
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