It’s fun to see things, especially old things. It makes me think of the old saying, “if these walls could talk.” Often they talk to me. Walking in the steps of famous or infamous people from the past presents an opportunity to learn with OPE (other people’s experience) instead of at the school of hard knocks. It also affords a chance to look at things from a different and larger perspective. 

At Stow-in-the-Wold we met a retired man while we were eating our full English breakfast at The Bell. Having rubbed shoulders with Californians who get dressed up and participate in Renaissance Faire and Dickens Christmas in South San Francisco, I recognized a gentleman whom I suspected might be involved in some historical reenactment society or group. It only took a question about his costume (I think I ussd some other word) and he was off. He was headed to a high school to talk about the English Civil War. (How appropriate since it was at Stow-in-the-Wold that the Parliamentary forces defeated Charles causing his flight through the woods on the pathway now called Monarch’s Way.) Acting as a soldier for Cromwell’s Parliamentary forces, he was armed with details about his weaponry, life on the road fighting the King and his forces, and whatnot about the 17th century. The more he talked the more animated he became. It didn’t seem to bother him too much that fourteen and fifteen year olds in 2022 would be more interested in everything on their phone than his yarns. He was on a mission.

Speaking of yarns, onboard the Cutty Sark we met a docent who had served on a merchant ship. As he and I traded tales about tall ships he shared this tidbit. On a sailing ship cordage or rope is always in short supply. Big winds and big seas pull on the rigging and sails leading to the inevitable need to splice and replace part of the line so necessary to the propulsion of the ship. Rope is made of small strands of plant material, often the stem of a plant. These need to be twisted into small string which is then braided or twisted into larger diameters of rope.

While spinning the raw material for the replacement rope, the sailors would tell each other stories. (I like to call these modern sessions “can you top this” or “mine is bigger than yours.” In the kayaking world it often begins or ends with “You shoulda been here yesterday.”) While based in some small kernel of truth these stories are often embellished. Like the work they were engaged in, their stories became known as “spinning a yarn.” 

One day we ended our walk at Winchcombe. Due to some COVID caused changes, we were to be picked up by taxi at an old tavern. The tavern was over six hundred years old. The doorway was low and there wasn’t a straight wall or square corner in the place. No one cared and I’m sure that on certain days and certain times it became a topic of conversation. This afternoon a couple was discussing a house they had just sold that had a thatched roof. The composition of the roof came up because I had mentioned what passed for “old” in California was much different than in Winchcombe, a seemingly appropriate comment in a place as old as the pub.

They refused to have their 18th century house designated as an historical place so he could keep his freedom in repairing and designing a livable abode in the 21st century. Apparently, his neighbors were of the same opinion. It would seem the designation of an historic place results in higher building costs and additional regulations on both sides of the Atlantic. I’m not sure what he did to earn a living. He and his wife having a glass of wine at four in the afternoon seemed to be a regular routine. He thought I had a funny accent.

While the buildings and history are interesting and usually garner most of the digital sensor space on my camera, it’s the people that interest me. Incorporating the past into the present is something we all do to one degree or the other. How and when it comes out is, perhaps, the best part of travel.