Woolly says – Jo had packed a bag, sadly it wasn’t an overnight one but it did contain my sunglasses, sun hat, jumper, hoodie, raincoat, rain hat and wellies so that I was fully prepared for whatever the weather might throw at us for the day. I was far more hopeful as I climbed into the car and the sun beat down on us.
Today was a two part day and as we drove through the Herefordshire countryside, I filled Jo in on our first port of call. Westonbury Mill Water Gardens situated near to the village of Pembridge was the work of Richard Pim, a former hydrogeologist who purchased a derelict mill in 1969. Over the years Pim designed the garden to take advantage of the mill, a stream running through the property, and a water meadow below the house. Like most gardens it would never be finished, and Mr Pim continues to add to his life’s work each and every year.
The car park was nearly empty and having paid for our ticket the three of us headed into the gardens. Crossing over a small bridge my attention was immediately grabbed by a folly.
The stone tower folly had come into being after Mr Pim found an old iron water wheel which needed to be shown off, the folly provided an excellent place to use it. Scooping up the water in its small buckets the water is transported round to fill up the reservoirs for two gargoyles, once full the gargoyles spurt water over unsuspecting guests, luckily, we moved mere moments before it happened and didn’t receive a soaking.
Inside the folly was a small seating area which had been lovingly painted, it was a peaceful place to sit and admire the water based plants that were everywhere the eye could see.
Following one of the many paths we ambled through dense foliage finding ourselves at the Cuckoo Tower, which was also operated by an old water wheel, each hour on the hour the cuckoo would appear through its hatch and a soundtrack of the cuckoo call could be heard. I was just about to ask the human what time it was when I nearly fell over in fright as the cuckoo started its cry and bounced through its door to great the world. We watched for a few more moments before moving on.
Huge green furry leaves known as Gunnera manicata and looking like rhubarb on steroids greeted us as we ducked underneath them to follow the path over one part of the river.
Alfie the Dog stopped for a quick drink before we found ourselves in the wildflower meadow. All sorts of flowers bobbed abut in the breeze watched over by a solitary wooden horse.
We arrived at a large manmade mound which had been built in conjunction with a rill and summer house to provide a different perspective to the gardens.
The path led us through the woods passing a tree that seemed to require some branch support which was a bit strange as I thought that branches supported themselves until the fell off.
The African summer house provided some cover as rain started to drip from the skies.
A few metres away was the Cairn Garden which is made up of a series of small islands separated by a maze of narrow water channels. Each island was well stocked with a wide range of plants, lots of Acers and water iris included. At the centre stood the cairn with its water bubbling down its sides.
A green tunnel led us onto a lawned area passing the big pond which was covered in lilies and water plants.
A domed building came into sight, and I raced over to see what was inside, it was amazing. The glass bottle dome is made from 5,000 multi coloured wine bottles which is a lot of wine to drink. The bottles are embedded in concrete quadrants supported by arches and is regarded as an architectural feat, as Jo caught up with me, we both sat admiring the colourful interior agreeing that one day in the future we would have our own glass bottle dome.
I’d thoroughly enjoyed the gardens, sadly the onsite café cake wasn’t so good but knowing that anymore food would be a long way off I did my best to eat it before we headed to our next destination.
We had actually driven through Pembridge on our way to the gardens, one of the many black and white villages in the county.
Woolly says – As Jo drove us the short distance to the village, I filled her in on a few details. Pembridge is a village and civil parish in the Arrow valley in Herefordshire, in 1239 Pembridge was granted a royal charter to hold a market and two fairs: the Cowslip Fair held each May, and the Woodcock Fair held each November. In the Middle Ages they were important events for agricultural labourers across the county to seek work from landowners. Having parked we headed along the single road through the village stopping to admire the black and white buildings.
The majority of the buildings many of which had once been alms houses, had been built in the 14th century, some of the seemed to be leaning rather to far over and I chuckled to myself thinking about the slightly drunk person trying to navigate there home on a tilt.
Sadly, many of the cottages looked in need or work and weeding.
A very smart former farm marked the last property, so we crossed the road and headed towards the marketplace.
The timber-framed building, which has been dated to 1520, is not actually a market hall, but merely a covered market. Eight oak pillars support a roof tiled with stone slates. These pillars are supported on unworked stone bases except for one, which stands on the remains of the medieval cross base. It is a Grade II* listed building and now seemed to form the outside seating area of the pub.
Across the road some steps took us into the grounds of the church. St Mary’s parish church had a rather unusual pyramidal belltower which looked wonderful. Dating from the 13th century the church had been built on its predecessors Norman foundations. We headed inside.
Huge arches led up to a wooden ceiling with chairs instead of pews talking up most of the floor.
The altar was lovely and contained four tombs dating from the 14th century, it also had a small part of the former Norman church tucked next to one of the windows, which looked a bit odd as the arch disappeared into nothing.
To the right of the altar was the Lady’s Chapel with a lovely stained glass window.
The walls had memorials in place along with bible texts some of which had now faded too literally nothing.
At the rear of the church was a collection of modern tapestries to celebrate the Platinum jubilee the locals had embodied the history of the village,
they were most impressive as were the two stained glass windows.
Heading outside we navigated our way round the church exterior looking out for the seven Commonwealth war graves, the two World War I and five from World War II graves. Which proved hard to do as workmen seemed to be everywhere, so we headed back to the bell tower.
Pembridge is one of several Herefordshire parishes whose belltower stands separate from the church. All but the base of the tower is timber framed. The tower was built early in the 13th century and remodelled in the 17th century when its spire was added.
Inside was the housing for its’ five bells. John I Martin of Worcester cast the fourth bell in 1658, Abraham II Rudhall of Gloucester cast the treble bell in 1735, James Barwell of Birmingham cast or recast the first, second and tenor bells in 1898, as I peered up into the rafters I realised that the bells had been well hidden and all that showed of them were there ropes.
The space held a number of photographs and pictures and according to Barking boy a few mice that he could smell.
With a huge black cloud overhead, we scurried back to the car passing the local shop and one of the villages two pubs arriving in the car just as the heavens opened and lashings of rain started falling from the sky. Our timing was excellent although I’m not sure that the human would agree as driving the car back in the deluge required a lot of concentration and mutterings about visibility.