Rambling around Caistor

Aye up me ducks, I'm here. Chat and craft was good this morning, more people, and lots of friendly banter. I took some hand made stuff to show, and they were interested in what you can make from rubbish. Lots of ideas to share, I think one or two of them might have a go at something. Lunch was scrambled eggs and erm, courgettes, ha ha.

Yesterday I went off to Caistor on the edge of the Lincolnshire Wolds. It's a good place to start a ramble. I picked up the Viking Way, to Nettleton. A charming little village which I have posted about before. Here is another photo of the church. It must be popular if  the amount of cars which lined the roadside for the morning service, are anything to go by.  

I left the village along the main A46 road, good job there was a footpath as it was a bit busy. It wasn't long before I was leaving it and going off to the left through a field planted up with sweetcorn. Not ready for picking just yet. The kindly farmer has left a path down the middle. It was lovely to walk through that, the soil was all soft and sandy.  

I love the colour of the hairy tops of the corn growing amongst the lush green leaves. Pink hair is the fashion at the moment, ha ha.

Most of it was taller than me, like walking through the jungle.

For quite some distance I had the hills on my left hand side, while I walked along the edges of the fields on my right. This looks like a good place to rest my bum while I have a bite to eat. Sometimes nature has the knack of placing a ready made bench just where you need it. It was sunny but with a lovely cooling breeze.

On the map it says I pass a piggery. When I got near I could hear the most horrendous squealing, shouting, screaming noises coming from a big shed just the other side of a thick hedge. It actually sounded a mix of pig and human noises. Goodness know what was going on there, was a pig giving birth, or was something horrible happening? I don't know, and I'm not sure I wanted to know. As much as I love walking through the countryside, there is one aspect of it which upsets me, and that is the way people treat their animals. It just reaffirms my decision not to eat meat. I couldn't bear to think I might be responsible for some poor animal being treated badly.    

A bit further on I picked up a minor road into Claxby, another small Lincolnshire village. Very small in fact. As per normal, I had a look at the church. There was a cosy nook sheltered from the wind, with a bench where I parked my bum for another refreshment break. It was a little sun trap, I could have sat there all day. 

As I wandered around the back of the church I came across this sight, a magnificent house which was slowly being devoured by creeping ivy and all kinds of bushes and trees. There were wooden shutters on the insides of the ground floor windows, I wasn't sure if it was occupied. I half expected a crazy recluse to appear and point a gun at me as I was poking around. No one did, there was no one there.

It very much saddened me to see such a beautiful house standing proud and defiant, fighting against the elements in it's bid to survive in this tranquil part of the Lincolnshire countryside. I could almost hear it crying out, please won't someone come along and save me. The locked front door. In front of that the tarmac forecourt and driveway, now not accessible to vehicles or on foot. There is very little left of the tarmac surface.

Around the back, there seems to be some sort of sun room with windows on three sides. The views of the surrounding countryside must be fabulous from up there. I wish I could go inside.

Looking down over the brick built outhouses. There was weeds everywhere, still some items of garden equipment lying around.

The orangery is being swallowed up, but I didn't see any evidence of vandalism, all the glass is intact. The house is in a secluded place, almost a secret place, so I suspect not a lot of people know about it.

The plants which found their way through to the inside are now dead and brown due to lack of water. A few bits of kitchen and outdoor items scattered about.

The benches are all in good condition.

 Oh my, if I was rich I would buy it.

As I came away I passed the front gate, the sign is still there on the rusty iron railings.

This is the main entrance, now just a wilderness of overgrown trees and shrubs. You would need a hacksaw to chop your way through to reach the front door.

I am finding myself feeling very emotional about this house, I don't know why. It's the sort of place which oozes character. It appears to have a heart, a once living breathing being, now bereft of it's owners and left to a slow and lingering death.

As I walked away from it I saw a man tending his garden, I just had to ask about it. I mentioned how tragic it was that it was so neglected. He told me a little story.. A wealthy businessman bought it and he moved in with his wife and daughter. They were a happy family, then tragically his wife was diagnosed with cancer, and three years after they moved in she died. The daughter got married and moved away to Birmingham with her husband. The man couldn't bear to be in the house on his own, so he locked the door and walked away from it, and moved in with his daughter. That was five years ago. He told me it has a swimming pool. He also said that two people have shown an interest in  buying the house.

I've had a look on the internet, can't find any photo's of it, I would have liked to see it before it had been abandoned. I've looked on goooglie earth there is a car in the driveway and the gardens are tidy. There is a business registered to the address, but nothing more. I would imagine that he has ceased trading.  Someone needs to come along and rescue it, before it's too late.

I left Claxby and headed towards Normanby le Wold, where I picked up the Viking Way again. I have walked this section before, but it is quite pleasant. The path goes along Nettleton Beck in between two hillocks. I got so far along when I found I had to walk through a lot of cows. I am not normally nervous of cows, I had already walked through a field of brown beasts which didn't take a bit of notice of me and carried on chomping the grass. But I saw this next herd up ahead had some young with them, and the mums can be quite protective, so I decided not to push my luck, and veered off to the left and up the side of a corn field. My plan was to get back on the road, which runs parallel. I had to climb over a barbed wire fence to achieve this, but no bother, my lightweight body is pretty agile. My ankles and legs were beginning to feel like a thousand pins were sticking into them, with all the prickly bits of corn I picked up in my socks, and the nettles I waded through. I didn't stop and take them out as there was nowhere to sit, and it would take ages to get rid of them. So I soldiered on regardless.
  

Boy was it a relief to get my boots off when I got back to the car. I drove home with my soft shoes on and no socks at all. My poor legs were red and stinging when I bathed them, and for a few minutes after smothering them with moisturiser, I was in agony. It's much cooler to wear shorts when walking, but it has it's disadvantages, ha ha.

I did 12 miles, not a great distance, but an interesting walk. Toodle pip.