Newstead Abbey. As we toured the gothic halls, the haunted dressing room, I kept thinking where are the goths? As we viewed Lord Byron's chalice made from a human skull, I wondered where are the goths? As we walked down a yew tunnel, beside the monk's pond, I wondered where are the goths? What's wrong with them, haven't they heard of Lord Byron? The only gothic representation was Miss Aimson in her shorty bloomers and purple bat-print tights.
The only visitors who seemed to heard of Byron were foreign tourists. The others were a wedding party and local day-trippers enjoying the park and gardens. Which were great. More yew walks than you could shake a stick at, lots of ponds, arbors and benchs, some formal gardens. Even the formal gardens weren't strictly looked after, and weeds grew amongst the borders, including some large drifts of monkshood, which seems to be the most suitable plant for Newstead Abbey.
There were more bumble-bees than I have ever seen together, blue damselflies and lots of butterflies.
Blue damselflies, there are common too, like the ones we get at Aimo's house, but we only get red ones.
Yet again I observed there seems to be an affinity between yew and elder, with lots of little elder saplings growing from the bases of yews. Is it just because they know how pretty elder blossom looks against dark foliage?
A view of the very romantic slightly ruined gardens.
On the way back we passed Cromford Steam Rally, and I wondered if steampunks visit steam fairs and see real steam engines?
Now we're home there is a huge thunder and lightning storm, I'm just going to fill my human skull chalice with red wine...
No comments:
Post a Comment