Midday Thurs 1 Sept 2016.
Drove to Tewkesbury (Theocsbury in old English) in the campervan along the A38. A thriving old town, full of half-timbered shopfronts. Topped up my little cellphone there, then escaped quickly towards Forthampton, not very far away.. Parked on the grassy verge outside the Norman parish church. I have ancestors buried there. The church stands on a knoll above a ducking pond. Old stocks and a whipping post are relicted outside the grounds.
The grandest square tomb in the churchyard is the repository of the Ireland family of Forthampton. Several Ireland graves are on the bank below. Julia Ireland married my great grandfather Highman in Bristol. Charlie (my grandad) was one of their sons. It appears her father owned a grocer’s shop in Cheltenham.
I found some interesting entries in the church guestbook pertaining to the Ireland family, with an address in York for one Andrew Ireland. I will follow it up.
As I sat among the graves in the hot sun, I wondered in which of the old picturesque dwellings in the straggling village the Ireland’s lived in all those years ago.
Caught the TV aerial on a low-hanging branch returning to the campsite. I will have to remove it altogether. It gets in the way, and I don’t want to watch TV in the van, ever!
Arrived back about 5.15 pm, the sun now partly covered with thin cloud. A cooling breeze wafts through the open back windows of the van as I write, and evening shadows lengthen.
9.45pm. (with the bat detector). I’ve just wandered down to the river bend in the darkness. Floodlight from the pub illuminated the trestle tables dotted along the bank, throwing the reflections of the far bank trees into a ghostly monochrome. An abundance of crickets chirped and buzzed in the foliage as I moved into the darker woodland away from the stark pub light. I could hear pipistelles quartering the tree-edge, feeding often with their characteristic buzz, then along the water’s edge at least two Daubenton’s picking up insects over the Severn. They bottomed at about 43kcs, whereas the pipistrelles were loudest at 49kcs. The night had a distinct Autumnal chill to it.
Midday Fri. 2 Sept. Thick cloud has settled across the whole sky, but looking slightly brighter in the South. The campsite has taken on a shroud of grey; the air feels damp, but there has been no rain yet. The forecast is for better weather to move slowly over from France. Cleaned the motorhome a little, then went and had a Ploughman’s lunch at the pub. Much too much food – had to rest for the afternoon after it!
Several other motorhomes have arrived in the last hour – I am now surrounded by vehicles.
The weather brightened into a late afternoon heat, clear skies and warm sunshine. Went for a walk round the campsite. Behind the pub the slope has been terraced into hard standing for single-wides. Some static homes have been surrounded by beautifully tended gardens, full of flowers in planters. I found a stile for a footpath running along the base of the hill, through land which seemed neglected and parched.
8.30-9.00pm. I wandered over to the stile with the bat detector and sat there to listen. Immediately I picked up two soprano pipistrelles hunting along the hedge in front of me (52kcs). The line of the hedge to my left appeared to be foraged by at least three ordinary pipistrelles, bottoming at 47kcs. They turned at the hedge corner and flew back down their own corridor. Several sopranos fluttered very close to my head through the gap where the stile was situated.
Coming back, the last remnants of the orange sunset stretching before me, I heard a loud and insistent pipistrelle quartering the asphalt road by the static vans near the reception yard. Some bats appear to have louder calls than others, or is it the open space that echoes more?
I returned home through Gloucester the next morning, and drizzling rain set in for the day. I’d had the best of the late summer as it settled into Autumn.
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