“Chav Camos”! Wonderful phrase include in blog with photographic evidence… So I guess the next step would be to find the evidence.
Visited Hardwick Hall
Just found a ticket today (31/MAY/2009) from our visit to Hardwick Hall a National Trust house. I don’t remember it at all! I’m not even sure where it is! I’ll have to see if I’ve any photographys from the day!
I’ve just checked and Hardwick Hall is in Doe Lea, Derbyshire and is one of the most significant Elizabethan country houses in England.
In common with its architect Robert Smythson’s other works at both Longleat House and Wollaton Hall, Hardwick Hall is one of the earliest examples of the English interpretation of the Renaissance style of architecture.
…and yes this information has been half-inched from Wikipedia… read more here: Hardwick Hall at Wikipedia.
Dream Diary: The Grey Blanket at the Monastery
July 22nd, 1997
This Dream was found in an old diary. It was entered into this blog on the 16/09/2006 however it is originally dated 22/07/1997 and thus I have added it as an entry for that date. Interestingly back then it was only ‘97 there was no suggestion of another millennium. Oddly I re-found the grey blanket yesterday.
I’m cutting through a catholic school… I am carrying my grey blanket. It is an object from my childhood. I like it’s dull colour and soft fabric. I arrive at a quadrangle. There are many people here in the quad. There is a game in progress. A confessional game… everyone circles a central figure muttering about their guilt, and then those who have been forgiven run around finding those that they have met before and forgiving them for some crime against them, once forgiven they are able to join their forgivers. I hear a voice that I recognise. A female voice. I look around. All those present wear long grey hooded cloaks. I recognise no-one. It seems a silly game. There is real fear in the eyes of those not yet forgiven. I gather the blanket around me, wrapping it, it metamorphoses into a garment the same as theirs. Unable to see the individual who’s voice I’d heard I set out to cross the square. I am half way across when a man grabs my arm. He turns to me recognition in his eyes. I think I am found out. I realise that I too feel some form of recognition. He is, although familiar, not placeable in my memory. Over his shoulder I see a girl hiding behind the pillars from which I’d walked. I recognise her face, and realise that it was her voice that I heard addressing me earlier. I am frightened that the gentleman in front of me will see her. I fear that he is a school teacher. He is still intently focused upon me and does not look around. I am much relieved. I realise that he is speaking to me and that I have not been listening. I attempt to concentrate upon what he is saying. He is asking my forgiveness. Internally I smile… it spreads slowly across my lips. I’m grinning manically. He wants something of me, and I have the right to refuse. Externally my face remains passive. I explain that I am sorry, but that I have never seen the gentleman before. That I can forgive him of no crime. He knows that I lie. He says nothing. He shows nothing. No inward sigh. No discontentment. I leave the quadrangle and my dream ends.
Date:22/7/97