A lovely little village whose name is. . . shh, it's a secret

When we were in England last Fall, we took two wonderful day-trips with The English Bus. One tour took us to Oxford, Stratford and the Cotswolds, the other to Bath, Stonehenge and a Secret Place.

I have written and shared photos of all our stops on the day trips (except for Stonehenge, for some reason) and if you missed them, just click on my highlighted links and have a look. Lovely photos, I promise.

When we set out on the Bath/Stonehenge trip, our guide told us we'd be going to "A Secret Place." He asked us all — there were 16 of us in the small bus — if we would keep his secret and we all agreed that we would.

So I'm not going to tell you the name of this secret place but I'm going to show you a few photos.

I will tell you that this place is mostly owned by The National Trust. You can come here to live (if you can afford a house) but you must agree to be an active part of a living community. This is not a medieval theme park. Young families are particularly welcomed — the school has around 75 students.

The latest structure that was built here was built around 1499.

The secret place has often made an appearance on television and in movies. It's so very picturesque, isn't it? You may recognize one of the old houses from the Harry Potter films.

Without further ado then (and don't forget to click on the photos):

(That's William. I'd know the back of his head anywhere.)

(William again, walking toward the Harry Potter house.)

(I wouldn't mind living in one of these little houses.)

This was certainly a highlight of our trip although I've said that a few times now. Maybe I'll reach the point of saying this was a "highlight of highlights."

Backstage at the Vatican

When we were in Rome, it took us a few days to get up the nerve to call the priest whose number we had brought with us from Halifax. Our parish priest at that time was Italian and when he heard we were going to Rome, he insisted on giving us the name and number of one of his former professors who now worked in the Vatican Secretariat of State. He said his old friend would be delighted to meet us and would show us around the Vatican.

We called him on a Saturday, just before noon. We explained who we were and named our priest and Father L. instantly treated us as if we were old friends and told us to come right over. He said he had a couple of hours before he had to be somewhere but he'd be happy to give us a tour. He told us to go to the Bronze Door and they would tell us what to do then.

The Bronze Door

We went in through the very impressive doors and gave Father L.'s name to the Swiss Guards on duty. We were directed toward a small office to be issued visas because we were, of course, leaving Italy and entering a separate city-state. We knew that but somehow, we hadn't thought about it when we left the hotel because we hadn't brought our passports.

Fortunately, we all had ID and we had Father L. awaiting us so we filled out all the forms and we were admitted. We were given precise directions and we found ourselves climbing a flight of marble stairs and it dawned on us: we were inside Vatican City.

I have always been interested in behind-the-scenes details. I like being backstage in theatres; this past summer in London, I liked being inside Buckingham Palace and hearing how preparations are made for public events. I didn't expect secret details in the Vatican but I enjoyed seeing things that weren't on anyone's regular tour.

We made our way to Father L.'s office and he was warm and friendly and welcoming. The tour was informal and informative. He pointed out priceless art as we strolled along the corridors. Once, he waved his hand casually toward a large painting and said, with Italian flourish, "Raphael." There were antique maps along the walls of one corridor and paying attention to our origins, he made sure he pointed out Nova Scotia and some of the misconceptions of the early map-makers.

We walked along one corridor on our way to the outside and he gestured down the hall and said, "That's where the Holy Father lives." It was summer and he wasn't there but it seemed kind of exciting anyway. When we were outside, he showed us the various locations where the Pope would meet heads of state when they came visiting. As we walked from one courtyard to another, he said that we were just behind the Sistine Chapel and the Vatican Museums and he pointed out damage to the back walls that he said would collapse if they weren't soon fixed. I think he was exaggerating. I don't expect to watch the news one day and see that a wall of the Sistine Chapel had collapsed!

Because Father L. was so hospitable and his tour was so interesting, we didn't stop to take photos. I'm sorry now that we didn't but it probably would have seemed a bit inappropriate – like being shown around someone's home and snapping pictures in every room.

We did take this one, on a terrace right near Father L.'s office.

Maybe we'll get to take pictures the next time.

A roof, a window, some stones

Did you know that if you buy a thatched cottage in England or Wales, it is, in all likelihood, a property registered with English Heritage Trust, a charity that looks after the National Heritage Collection? That means that if you have a lapse in judgement and decide you want to put some kind of tacky shingles (or even nice shingles) on your roof, you probably won't be allowed.

We saw a lot of thatched houses on our drives in the English countryside and, as always, our guides with The English Bus were full of information about the roofs, the regulations, the building materials, the advantages and disadvantages of a thatched roof. Who would know there would be so much to learn?

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This is the Bath Abbey. There has been a church on this spot for more than a thousand years. It's really interesting to read about at the link.

"The Abbey as we know it is the work of Sir George Gilbert Scott, who from 1864 to 1874, completely transformed the inside of the Abbey to conform with his vision of Victorian Gothic architecture. His most significant contribution must surely be the replacement of the ancient wooden ceiling over the nave with the spectacular stone fan vaulting we see today." (From the official site.)

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Did I mention some stones? I'll be back.

Bless me Father for I have . . . murdered someone

I had watched five seasons of The Good Wife – American lawyers – and three seasons of Silk – English barristers – and I thought I needed a little break from the law.

I have begun to watch Father Brown, a series about G.K. Chesterson’s affable murder-solving priest. I remember Father Brown well from my earlier reading of the short stories. In the murder-solving genre, he’s a bit like Agatha Christie’s Miss Marple – an unlikely detective.

It’s just what I was looking for. The stories and the characters are gentle; there are murders but they’re genteel and the murderers are usually not evil and they often come to an accidental end before the Inspector can get his hands on them.

That’s a relief because the stories this time around are set in the early 1950s – in the aftermath of the war – and the death penalty was still in effect in Great Britain. Much better for our murderer to stumble on to the track in front of a moving train than sent off to be hanged.

Part of my enjoyment of the series is the beauty of the village and surrounding countryside where Father Brown tends his flock. At one point, I said to myself, I think I’ve been there!

I looked it up and sure enough, the series is filmed in different villages in the Cotswolds. Some of those villages were on one of the tours we took with The English Bus. As always with the tour, our guide – Colin, in this case – had much information and many stories about these beautiful villages and as we had in other places, we parked the bus and he led a walking tour to make sure we got the maximum enjoyment.

Here are some photos of our stop – two different stops, in fact. As always, remember to click on the photos to enlarge them.

William and I agreed that we could live in one of these houses (below) – if they had good Internet. (A standard requirement.)

The timeless beauty of Oxford

It’s always a little thrilling to see a place in person that you’ve seen – often many times – in the movies or on TV. I don’t know why. I guess it’s one of our child-like characteristics.

It happens a lot in New York. You’re just walking along and suddenly, there’s Tiffany’s and you’re looking around for Audrey Hepburn with her coffee and croissant.

It doesn’t have to be New York though. See these steps? Those are the front steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. If you listen carefully, you’ll hear the triumphant music that accompanied Rocky on his victorious ascent.

One of the stops on one of our day trips in England with The English Bus was Oxford. It’s likely, unless you’ve never gone to the movies or watched TV, that you’re very familiar with Oxford.

I loved Brideshead Revisited, the 1981 11-part television series. (I also loved Evelyn Waugh’s novel on which the series was based.) The two young men, Charles Ryder and Lord Sebastian Flyte, met at Oxford and there are beautiful scenes, outdoors and indoors, of the time they shared there.

Since we returned from England, we’ve seen the movie Testament of Youth, based on the pacifist Vera Brittain’s memoir of World War I. Vera also went to Oxford and it was nice to see her there so soon after we had been there ourselves. This is a scene of them making the movie.

And just in the last week, watching the legal drama TV series called Silk, I saw Oxford again when one of the barristers travelled from London to Oxford on a case.

Oxford, made up of 38 separate colleges, is considered to be the oldest university in the English-speaking world. There are records of teaching there that go back to 1096.

What follows are some of my favourite photos of the time we spent in Oxford. The first is, I think, the most commonly seen venue in the movies and on TV. (Don't forget to click on the photos to enlarge. You won't be sorry.)

The Sheldonian Theatre, built by Sir Christopher Wren

See William and me?