Raining on Friday morning we could do no more than go over the church with the vicar (a chirpy ruddy-cheeked little chap) parts of it being about 600 years old. There were splendid oak carvings of vast age, quaint inscriptions containing latin puns and long-winded panegyries, a very old pulpit and font, bearing coats-of-arms of local magnates of the middle ages; a fine oak “wagon” ceiling and beautiful stained glass. After lunch got into the village taxi and drove through dripping lanes to Newton Abbot where said good-bye and set forth again, and luckily, by a new route, northwards. All the rivers and streams in Devon were swollen and yellow or, rather, red with loam. Through Severn tunnel which is about 6 miles long but could not see the river and then to my delight passed through a corner of Wales, hilly and picturesque to a degree, where the rivers and streams are rapid and stony and cottages, towers and mansions are perched up on perilous heights. (That is a gross exaggeration). We then passed into the fine country of Hereford where the cattle are reared and saw them in large numbers grazing in fields much larger than the neat little Devon meadows. A great deal of Hereford is also hilly. Saw Ludlow and got a glimpse of its old ruined castle; very prettily situated little city – then Hereford itself. Next stop was the famous and picturesque city of Shrewsbury. Eventually we reached Crewe and from thence to Manchester travelled before. The train was travelling at about 70 miles per hour for long stretches yet far steadier and more silent than ours when crawling along at about 25.
Reached camp at 11 p.m. so timed it nicely, only to lose one hour of liberty and that in bed!
One thought on “Saturday morning (30 June 1917)”
I must say, Lincoln is an exceptionally good writer. I am thoroughly enjoying these diary entries. It’s remarkable these events happened exactly one hundred years ago! Many thanks for sharing, John.
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