Note: I originally wrote this entry over two weeks ago but I had to clear it with the subject (Rosa). I thought I might need to obtain written clearance but after discussions with my attorney, he felt that a verbal approval from the subject was sufficient ... I hope you enjoy this entry!
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| My favorite picture of Rosa - she's the one smiling! :-) |
Location Notes: Swanage, Dorset, United Kingdom
First of all, Happy New Year to all of my friends and followers! I wish you all a happy, healthy and successful 2011! Second, I must once again apologize for the long break between my last entry and this one. The last few months of 2010 involved an unusual amount of travel for me; work was hectic and there seemed to be no time for my blog or other literary efforts. This was especially true until my last trip on December 24-25 when I had to distribute toys and gifts to good little boys and girls around the world ... OK, maybe I’m not really Santa Claus but I did spread as much vice to needy friends as I could running up to the end of the year...
I have made a New Year’s resolution (one of many, in fact) to write more regularly since there are so many places about which I wish to write. With this entry, however, I answer the old school assignment question, “What I did on my Christmas Vacation”.
This blog entry is also dedicated to Rosa, the love of my life and wife. My Dad used to say, “You will one day meet the love of your life and you will know that she is the one ... Just pray that your wife doesn’t know her!” Actually, that is not strictly true... my Dad never said that. He was devoted to my mother and, in fact, many of my marital values are the same values that my father showed to my mother. Rosa celebrated her mumble-mumble-mumble birthday this on January 15 and we relaxed together before heading our separate ways – me to the USA and her to England. While I toiled to earn a crust of bread, Rosa was laying on the beach in Barbados.
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| Rosa in a typical Barbados-like pose |
Rosa is very independent. She is used to “getting on with it”. She travels at least once or twice per month and only rarely with me. We meet up in various locations around the world and always enjoy these intersections in space and time. Today is the 33rd day of 2011 and Rosa has already been in six different countries. I am pleased that she is independent and also that she finds time in her busy schedule to spend time with me!
I once read a genetic study that indicated that people with the most opposite genetic codes find each other the most attractive. This has something to do with evolution’s predilection to combine genes in new ways that sustain the species. One of the stranger points of the article was that people that are most genetically diverse will find each other’s body smell the most attractive. Rosa and I are about as genetically different as it is possible to be with very little ancestral overlap. I have to say, I find her smell to be perfect. When she awakes in the morning and is warm and cuddly, I also find her to be incredibly beautiful... and I always tell her so. She occasionally tells me that she sleeps in my t-shirts and on my pillow, which I find an endearing and reassuring detail. Now, when she is asleep there is another matter that makes her less attractive as you will hopefully read below. Meanwhile, I will veer away from Rosa for a second and into the narrative of our holiday vacation.
Something about the end of the year holiday season makes us both nostalgic and sentimental. This was certainly the case with Rosa and I this past holiday season. I knew that despite the fact that work would be hectic through the final days of the year, I needed a break and wanted a relaxing holiday. Meanwhile, Rosa felt that we should spend more time with our young nephews and teenage niece who are in the important “formative” years of their lives. Therefore, after some discussion and an incredible amount of research on Rosa’s part (more about this below), we decided to take a cottage on the coast in Dorset, England and spend the holidays with the kids.
As an aside, I am not sure which or what are the “formative” years of a child’s life. I have always tended to think that my parents thought my “formative years” were the one’s when I needed a good smack – which probably meant from the time I was age 11 until I reached 35 or 40 years old – although I suspect my dear mother would still think I occasionally need “that smile swiped off your face”! My dad only ever struck me once – an occasion that he greatly regretted as soon as it happened – but he would often say, “I’m going to slap you smart, dammit, because you are already silly!” These days, however, we “reason” with children and give them “time outs” instead of spanking them. Certainly this is a step forward in child rights and probably a sideways or backward step in child discipline, in my opinion. By the way, I never had occasion to discipline Shazia (our adopted daughter) much; I just threatened her that I would “tell her mother” to discipline her and this scared the hell out of Shazia! Shazia would cry, panic and spasm at the mere thought of Rosa’s displeasure. Rosa is scary to children, small animals and grown men! Especially during certain times of the month; this probably goes a long way to explain my frequent and “cyclical” trips away from home. Anyway, as aforementioned, our nephews are in their “formative” years and Rosa thought that we should spend some times during the holidays reconnecting with the boys.
Rosa had some vague idea that we would play board games, cook hearty family meals, take country walks, enjoy each other’s company and generally relax. I was willing to play along with this vision, of course, even though I was dying to stay home with my stereo, cigars, wine collection and watch the Discovery Channel. I only slept in my own bed 29 nights last year and I miss being in my own space. It is not that Rosa was trying to inflict something undesirable upon me, and I simply did not have the heart to express my true wishes (although she can read them now). Rosa wanted me to “truly relax” after a difficult year and I know that she had my best interests at heart so I played along and hoped for the best. In addition, I felt guilty because I had not taken her away on a vacation and so was willing to cater to her whims. Of course, these things never quite work out as expected and certainly not as intended.
In my mind, I can hear Rosa saying, “your readers are going to think I’m some kind of bitch ...” Rosa has a strong personality, but, then again, there are few people with as strong of a personality as me. Rosa and I are evenly matched – except when it comes to pretty much any desire that she may have. I love her – including all of her flaws, foibles and obsessions – so I simply cannot deny her anything. One of my friends once commented in a manner that cut to the core of my relationship with Rosa, “she acts like the wife and spends like the girlfriend!” So, when Rosa suggested a cottage on the coast in England for an “old fashioned relaxing holiday”, I mumbled my concurrence and silently wished for an act of God that would prevent her plans from coming to fruition. As it was, the act of God came just a few days too late and, in fact, had the exact opposite effect of what I had hoped. Rosa and I do like England. We have a special affection for London but also a real love of the English countryside. Throughout our time in England, we have always gone “castle hunting” when we pile into a car and venture out exploring the countryside. We have seen some fantastic sites that few people have seen (even the English, unfortunately) and have enjoyed each other’s company in the process. So, the thought of visiting a quiet country spot in England was alluring even if I wanted to spend time at home.
Rosa becomes obsessed rather easily, in my experience. I don’t really believe that I have any obsessions (except maybe her), but Rosa openly admits and embraces hers. When we first visited the USA together, Rosa was introduced to a sugar free gum called “Dentine”. She liked it so much; she became obsessed and then perfected the world’s first “pure Dentine” diet. After she lost a fairly alarming amount of weight, Shazia and I had to start hiding the Dentine packs. Then, there was the obsession to play the cello. Rosa decided that she must learn to play the cello. I bought her a cello which she named “Delilah”, took about four lessons and that was pretty much the end of that particular obsession. We now have a beautiful (and highly expensive) cello shaped doorstop. For a while, she was going to be a pop star with one of her friends (“Gina”) and formed a band called “R&G”. They had several practice sessions, took fabulous publicity photos and planned to negotiate their own contract with a record label. All of this effort occurred even though Rosa cannot carry a tune in a bag! These are just a few examples of her more endearing obsessions. One characteristic of Rosa’s obsessions is that they are (generally) not destructive or harmful ... although I have always known that the possibility lurks just below the surface of her personality! This dark side to such a beautiful woman is, I am sure, what children and small animals instinctively understand and the reason that they find her scary. I bring up this topic of Rosa’s obsessions because Rosa became obsessed with finding the “perfect cottage” for our winter holiday sojourn.
Rosa’s obsessions generally start out fairly innocently. She will set herself a task to do something – like find a cottage for two weeks at the end of the year. Then, she will become frustrated because she cannot locate exactly the object of her search, so she will spend more and more time hunting. Rosa is, by nature, a perfectionist and she has very detailed and strict criteria to govern her selection of pretty much anything. I know that the search has turned into a hunt and the hunt into an obsession when she starts skipping meals and loses sleep in order to find the perfect manifestation of her obsession. Rosa haunted cottage web-sites, sent me scores of emails, while I was away, asking “my opinion” – which she studiously ignored. She contacted the American Express Centurion concierge and solicited their assistance in the search. She sent out hundreds – maybe thousands – of emails to cottage owners and still could not make up her mind. As the time for the holiday approached, she became even more obsessed and her mood shifted from frustration to anger. Then, however, pretty much out of nowhere, she found the perfect cottage venue in Swanage in the county of Dorset in southern England.
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| Swanage Bay looking down on the village |
Swanage is a lovely spot with fine sandy beaches nestled on a calm bay on the scenic “Jurassic Coast” about two hours south and west of London (under normal road conditions). The three bedroom cottage is warm, cosy and well appointed. There are plenty of local sites to occupy some relaxing time. Basically, the Swanage cottage is the perfect manifestation of Rosa’s intentions for our festive season holidays. I’ll write more about Swanage later in this blog entry, but I want to continue with the story of how nostalgia, sentimentality and best intentions can produce unexpected results...
As the observant reader will remember, I wanted an act of God to intervene in order to allow me to spend my end of year break at home. Well, the act of God came, but just a little late. I arrived at London Heathrow Airport on a freezing cold night on December 17. During the week, I had flown the crazy itinerary of Beirut – Abu Dhabi – Johannesburg – Abu Dhabi – Dubai – Cyprus – London and I was exhausted. I had only flown through Cyprus because I needed to change clothes and pick up another bag that Rosa had packed for me. I was home for three hours – which turned out to be the sum total of time I spent at home the remainder of the year (in fact, until January 10). During the week, I had spent more time in the air than on the ground and was not in good humour when we landed at 19:30 at Heathrow. During that Friday there had been a dusting of snow – literally less than two millimetres but Heathrow Terminal 5 was already in turmoil. We were parked on a taxiway at Heathrow for three hours because there was a shortage of parking stands. Then, when we were rolled into our parking stand at 22:30, we had to wait for stairs which took another 90 minutes to arrive. By midnight, I was highly irritated and standing in an immigration queue at Terminal 5. The eight hundred people ahead of me were being processed by a total of three Immigration officers who seemed to take rather frequent tea breaks. Two hours later – a full 6 ½ hours after landing I was wandering around a baggage hall that was stuffed with irate passengers and at least fifteen thousand unclaimed bags. I walked the length of baggage claim but could not find my bag – or any other bag from my flight. So, about 03:00 on Saturday morning, I abandoned the baggage search and walked the short distance to the Sofitel Hotel at Terminal 5. Rosa had already checked in and had been asleep for some hours. She answered the door to the hotel room half asleep and I gave her a hug before tucking her back into bed. My troubles cleared away slightly because I was with my life’s true love. Once in bed, however, I could not sleep wondering how and when I would retrieve my bag.
At 08:00 the following day, I asked Rosa to call a friend of hers that works for British Airways at Terminal 5. Her friend was not working but gave the helpful information that the bags from Larnaca were not off-loaded from the aircraft until 06:00 but should be at carousel seven ... So, all the time that I was walking the baggage hall, the bags had not even arrived! At 08:30, I walked back to the terminal and into a maelstrom of yelling, crying and aggressive passengers. The British Airways staff expected the displaced passengers to react like Londoner’s during the Blitz: queue up serenely and await their turns with their ration cards in their hands. Instead, a mixed mob of rioters fronted the few officials the sufficient temerity to face such a crowd. A rather large woman wearing a tight BA uniform was yelling through a megaphone, “You must understand that this is beyond our control – aircraft and snow do not mix. Nothing can be done ...” There were several aggressive comments from the crowd until one man yelled out, “There isn’t even any snow. Just wait until it really snows!” After about an hour of trying to negotiate my way back into the baggage hall, I finally was able to gain entrance through the employee security point. Once inside, I was amazed at the calm in the baggage hall. The hall was quiet with just a few staff and passengers who were searching forlornly through the piles and piles of luggage. Christmas music was playing over the loud speakers. The contrast with the near riot conditions outside the baggage hall made me chuckle. I found my bag after a quick search of carousel seven, threw the bag on a cart and whistled to the Christmas tunes as I walked toward the exit. There is a simple joy in finding something that is lost.
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| Snow at Heathrow: "Aircraft and sno do not mix!" |
Once back in the terminal, I again made the short walk to the Sofitel. This time, however, as I passed through the covered walkway, I noticed that the weather was indeed taking a turn for the worse. Huge snowflakes were falling with a reasonable intensity and accumulation was already starting on the frozen ground. Rosa had rented a Mercedes estate car (Americans would call it a “station wagon”) for the month that she expected to be in England. She had also booked a hotel in the suburbs of West London for the few days that we would be around in the area before heading to Dorset. So, we decided to quickly load the rental car and proceed with some dispatch to the hotel. Within about ten seconds of the Mercedes slipping into the parking lot of the hotel, it was clear that this car would absolutely not work on snow. The rear wheel drive car had insufficient weight in the back and the worst possible tires for snow. We needed help from some of the hotel staff just to negotiate the small rise from the parking lot to the main road and I advised Rosa to drive immediately to the rental car company and return the Mercedes from something more suitable. By this time, about fifteen centimetres of wet, slushy and super slick snow had fallen in the area of the airport. The two kilometre drive from the hotel to the rental car company took twenty minutes of sliding during which I reminded Rosa about fifteen times, “Turn into the skid ... No! Turn the wheel the other way!” We replaced the Mercedes estate car for a Saab front wheel drive estate car and began our odyssey to the hotel at 11:00 that Saturday morning (December 18).
One of Rosa’s qualities that can be endearing (occasionally) but is mostly trying is the fact that she is stubborn. Mules sign up for assertiveness training taught by Rosa! So, despite my rather good advice on the route to take into the Midlands toward our country hotel in Gerrard’s Cross, Rosa not only ignored my advice but made almost the exactly wrong decisions regarding the route. We were stuck in traffic jams for hours until Rosa would occasionally condescend to take my advice on alternate routes. While I continually offered helpful advice like “Turn into the skid ... No Rosa! Turn the wheel the other way, dammit!”, Rosa became more and more irritated. She nearly had an altercation with another driver whom had the temerity to express his dissatisfaction with her snow driving skills. She told the male driver to “Piss off back to your car if you know what is good for you!” Suffice it to say that our relationship was saved by my fraying but still mostly intact patience and her final admission that my advice was the best (and indeed, the only) way to reach our destination. I had to push the car up the hill with the help of kind strangers in a small village close to Gerrard’s Cross – during which I sprained my left ankle – but we finally slid into the hotel parking lot at 15:30 ... 4 ½ hours after leaving the car rental company. By comparison, the trip would normally take a maximum of about twenty minutes without snow and traffic jams. Once safely ensconced in the hotel we laughed about the experience and settled in for the weekend.
I had some end-of-year tasks to perform in my London office on Monday, by which time the roads were slightly better. By Tuesday (December 21), however, the forecast called for more snow and Rosa and I decided that it was time to drive to Dorset before we became stranded. On Tuesday evening about 17:00 we picked up my nephews and drove to Swanage. The drive was uneventful even if the roads were occasionally slick and we arrived in Swanage about 21:00 mostly because we had stopped for a meal in route. We were not taking possession of the cottage until the following day (Wednesday, December 22) so we needed to find a hotel. After some searching, we finally found a hotel for the night and unpacked the car. The next day, we awoke to a cloudy but snow-free day and a beautiful view over Swanage Bay. After some careful review of the written instructions and a few passes through the area, we were able to find the cottage without a great deal of difficulty. The owners had set up a small Christmas tree and the cottage even had a pleasant bay view. We explored the village of Swanage, found lunch followed by a grocery store and stocked up on food.
I have to say that, all in all, the trip to Swanage lived up to expectations. The area is very nice and relaxing. We visited Corfe Castle with the boys even though it was freezing cold and I slipped and fell on the ice thus hurting my injured ankle even more. The boys chased the wild-looking sheep across the castle grounds and we laughed when they climbed the walls of the castle just out of reach of the boys. We had a relatively relaxing time when Shazia, Saffiyah (one of our nieces) and Bina (my mother-in-law) joined us on Christmas Eve for a few days. We cooked food, watched TV, chatted and avoided conflict despite the relatively limited space. Rosa and I packed all of them (including the boys) in Shazia’s car and sent them back to London on December 27 and then settled in for a few days of togetherness. We visited Maiden Castle close to Dorchester on December 31 – a site I had wanted to see for some time (see the Last Blast below), walked the entire three mile perimeter, and then stopped by a grocery store to obtain a meal for later in the evening. We had a leisurely meal, two bottles of excellent champagne and watched videos to usher in 2011. On Sunday, January 2, we climbed around on the Jurassic Coast between Durlston Head and Peveril Point where I further irritated my damaged ankle but all-in-all sentiment and nostalgia trumped my reticence and we had a wonderful time relaxing and laughing together.
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| Peveril Point near Swanage on the Jurassic Coast |
In the end, I have to admit that Rosa was right to insist upon the cottage in Dorset for the holidays. The weather did not cooperate but that simply adds to the memories. We had plenty of time to talk and I was reminded constantly why I love Rosa. Of course, by January 3 I was ready to fly someplace ... pretty much any place. I am not used to being in one place for very long and Rosa noticed the wandering look in my eyes. I cherished the time with Rosa but, like Odysseus, I am born to wander.
Where to Stay:
Number 1, Mount Scar – our rented cottage. I was impressed by the layout and maintenance. The cottage is warm, clean, comfortable and is well appointed. The kitchen and bathrooms are pretty new and the little patio in the back of the cottage should be useful in the summer with its nice grill. The cottage was also a great value – especially given the short lead time Rosa gave them from booking until occupancy.
Where to Eat:
I was not overly impressed by the dining options in Swanage. The restaurants are pretty basic but are family oriented and good value. The Brick Oven Pizza restaurant close to the waterfront is pretty good. We had a few nice meals at the Old Ship Inn – a pub opened in 1753. The crowd was lively and loud. The Beaver cafe was also a nice surprise on the High Street. Mostly, however, I enjoyed cooking for Rosa and her family.
Where to Shop:
If the restaurants are limited in Swanage, the shopping options are even more limited. For example, Rosa and I had a small adventure trying to find real champagne glasses in the area. My best purchase was two small ammonites that I purchased from the visitor’s centre at Durlston Park. When I read the leaflet, however, I felt a little cheated to learn that the ammonites were from Argentina instead of the fossil rich Jurassic Coast.
Where to Party:
There were several bars on the waterfront in Swanage and I am sure that the nightlife is pretty good when the weather is warmer. We never felt the need to visit these places and didn’t even visit the Black Swan pub near the cottage – even though we meant to do so a few times.
Rant:
As I repeated several times above, I love Rosa for all of her strengths, weaknesses, foibles, obsessions and enthusiasms. I do have to remark, however, that one of her least attractive qualities is that she snores like a banshee! I spend a lot of time sleeping on aircraft and have always been really annoyed by fellow passengers that snore, so I have trained myself to sleep very lightly and I seldom snore unless I am exceptionally tired. Rosa, however, snores almost every night. The Inuit people of Northern Canada supposedly have more than thirty different adjectives to describe snow because they need to describe so many different variations. I have at least twenty adjectives to describe Rosa’s snoring! Rosa’s snoring should not be measured in decibels – the Richter Scale is more appropriate. On the light end she has the rather cute “purr” snore that is reasonably tolerable. Her regular “every day” snore is the “bear” or the “chainsaw” which is much louder and disrupts the neighbours. Her loudest variety, however, is the “bulldozer” (also known as the “JCB”) which frequently wakes her up with its volume!
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| Rosa's Snoring is very much like a fleet of these |
Our bedroom in the cottage had a full-size bed which is smaller than we have in our homes but this generally posed only a little discomfort. That is, there was little discomfort until the bedroom became a construction zone. Thankfully, Rosa does not snore all night – just toward the morning. I can normally convince her to roll over to obtain temporary relief from the sound but on days when heavy earthmoving construction is occurring, the workers rarely take a tea break. About 04:30 one morning in the cottage I was awakened by the early arrival of the workers. Chainsaws were deployed first – to clear the ground brush, I suppose. Within a few minutes, however, the bulldozers were moving in for the heavy ground clearance. Rosa was sleeping restlessly, so I knew that the sound was even bothering her! I asked her to rollover a few times but within about fifteen seconds the workers would take up their tools again. About 05:00 I slipped from bed to answer the call of nature. Upon returning a few minutes later, I settled into my place and briefly sniffed to clear my sinuses. It was not a long sniff or even loud ... it was just an ordinary brief sniff.
Suddenly, all work immediately stopped at the construction zone and Rosa’s eyes shot open. She turned to me with a note of extreme irritation in her voice for being disturbed and said, “What’s with the sound effects?!” I immediately began to laugh and then, after a brief time, she laughed as well. Rosa is not the most cheerful person in the morning but I have to love her even when she snores and is grumpy...
Humour Section:
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| 10 Foot Diameter Globe at Durlston Castle |
When we were walking by Peveril Point on the Jurassic Coast we passed below Durlston Castle – a nineteenth century manor house that is under refurbishment by the National Trust. On the slope below the castle is a ten foot diameter globe of the earth carved from a single piece of Portland Limestone quarried on the site. The globe was carved in the last part of the nineteenth century and is a monument to the last glory years of the British Empire. At the base of the globe is a carved stone that details the relative size of other planets in the solar system known at the time. If the earth were ten feet in diameter, for example, the sun would be 4,300 feet in diameter. Each planet was listed with its relative size from Mercury, Venus, and Mars followed by the gaseous giants. As I read down the list, I saw that Jupiter would have a diameter of 1,200 feet and then at the bottom of the list I saw that Uranus would be 44 feet in diameter.
Rosa and I were surrounded by about fifteen people of various ages who were out for a stroll on this early day in January. I turned to Rosa and said in a loud voice, “Well, I never would have expected that Uranus was that big! I have always admired Uranus but I thought it was smaller. I know I’ve only seen Uranus from a distance, but I’m surprised by that ...” I continued in this strain for a few more seconds while several people in my makeshift audience began to snicker and giggle. Rosa turned to a British matron who was frowning at my impromptu comedy routine and said, “Really, he doesn’t get out very often ...”
By the way, one of my recurring jokes is to make a farting sound whenever Rosa bends over to pick something up. This always solicits a giggle of surprise from her and this encourages me to keep up the practice even though it is incredibly puerile.
Last Blast:
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| Maiden Castle near Dorchester |
I noted above that Rosa and I visited Maiden Castle close to Dorchester on December 31. Maiden Castle is the largest and most complex of the Iron Age hill forts in England. I have loved the hill forts of England from the first one Rosa and I visited in 1995 shortly after moving to England. We visited Banbury hill fort in Wiltshire and walked the perimeter. I climbed down to the flint mine on the side of the hill fort and retrieved flint nodules that we took home to Shazia. Then, before leaving, Rosa convinced me to roll down the side of the embankment. We had such fun that day and since that warm summer afternoon, I have never passed up a chance to walk around a hill fort.
Maiden Castle, however, is special because this hill fort was considered impregnable by its owners and the surrounding tribes. In 33 CE, however, Maiden Castle was taken in just four hours by the Roman Second Legion led by its Legate, Flavius Vespasian. Vespasian was a brilliant military tactician and reportedly was as “hard as nails”. He was of senatorial rank but his family had only held that status for two generations, so he was considered to be a “new man”. From his remaining statues it is clear that Vespasian was a burly hard man – and not handsome. Vespasian was only a legate (commander of a legion) in England in 33 CE and a subordinate of the Governor General of “Brittania”. Later, Vespasian would become the emperor of Rome and would leave a lasting mark on Europe and the Middle East. Vespasian was the “victor” of Judean War that culminated at Masada. He was also the builder of the “Flavian Amphitheatre” in Rome, better known today as the Coliseum.
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| Vespasian when he was a Legate in Britannia |
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| The Emperor Vespasian - older but still tough |
Vespasian must have stood about at the spot were Rosa and I stood looking up at the battlements of Maiden Castle. The earthworks are very impressive today and would have been even more impressive in the time of Vespasian when they were in defensive order and were topped by three series of wooden palisades. According to Vespasian’s battle reports, he had been chasing a tribe of warriors for some days when the warriors took refuge in Maiden Castle (he did not know the name, but his notes make it clear that it was Maiden Castle). The British warriors manned the battlements with about eight thousand men which would have been roughly equivalent to the strength of the Roman legion combatants. The British warriors, however, had an infinitely better battleground position.
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| Maiden Castle is still formidable |
The warriors within the castle shouted their defiance. Vespasian calmly surveyed the ground then called a meeting of his centurions. When his officers had gathered, Vespasian pointed to Maiden Castle and said, “Right! I want it taken before midday.” It reportedly took the Second Legion just four hours to take the Castle and either kill or accept the surrender of all of the warriors within. The legionnaires would have stormed the steep battlements carrying forty kilos of gear amidst arrows, slingshot, thrown rocks, javelin fire and other obstacles. It is difficult today to climb up the sides of the battlements without the wooden palisades at the top. Once the legion took the first battlement, they would have seen two more to climb to fight their way into the castle. Rosa and I walked the uppermost battlement and gazed down the side at frequent intervals. I cannot believe that Vespasian’s Second Legion could have taken this ground at all – especially not in just four hours!
I love touching history in this way. In one lonely corner of the large castle grounds, Rosa and I happened upon the remains of a fourth century Romano-British temple to Minerva. This temple would have been built just before the departure of the Roman Legions from the providence of Britannia and shortly before Christianity began to dominate southern England. Maiden Castle is a special place now for Rosa and I.
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| Rosa and I - she took the picture |
I wish all of my readers the love of a good partner as I have found with Rosa. Take care until we meet again...
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