Windmill

Saturday the 12th began with a trip to the local bakery for trail snacks and a half-pint stop at Gate Inn, the pub in Upper Brailes.

According to Linda: Louisa dropped us north of town to begin our day’s walk. The path led to a cattle paddock with a herd of HUGE cows and one bull. Here we met a fellow, Steven, who was reluctant to proceed since the bull was a bit frisky when the man had tried to go over the stile. We waited and chatted until the bull moved on and we could pass.

Steven carried a guidebook that told about the nearby palace, Compton Winyates, which we could see as we climbed. Henry VIII frequented the place, and the first Elizabeth had visited. We could see Brailes Hill, too. A couple of young girls were picnicking on the slope along the trail. The mill was never a true working machine, but a “folly” as per the guidebook, and certainly a landmark.

The device had arms, but no sails on them. We could see in almost all directions, including north to Tysoe.

Back down the hill, we went through fields to Winderton, a tiny hamlet with no public house and a locked, disused church. In that graveyard, we enjoyed our baked goods and marveled at the headstone inscriptions. We found an empty telephone box and expected Dr. Who at any moment.

Here also, the structures are built directly next to the roads, curving together.

Back to Brailes via the paths, we marveled at the doggy gates next to the stiles.

L: Supper with Lou’s cousin Chris and wife Sara, our hostess serving rice with toasted sunflower seeds, courgette, potato omlet, salad, wine. Then, we all walked to St. George’s for a gospel concert from a Zimbabwe choir. The whole place was rockin’. Afterwards, Howie crossed to the pub and heard live music, including songs by Dylan, Woodie Guthrie, the Beatles, and Elton John—shades of Kerrville.