Hadrian built his wall to keep the pesky Scots out of the Imperii Romani. Ms Sturgeon will probably need to rebuild it in a Trumpesque fashion to keep out us needy English from Europa Novos when her country gets readmitted.
We depart our castle (wow that’s got a great ring to it) and head down the hill towards the Tyne Valley. This is the South Tyne, just half of the river which will merge with the North Tyne later. No prizes for guessing what the confluence is called.
Our intended outcome is a bit of wall with a view, but before that we walk for miles.
The weather is sultry, no wind, strong sunshine and manic humidity. All the right conditions for flies, and fly the certainty do, We are plagued for mile after mile, even wishing a random rain-cloud would appear to calm things dow, but alas that particular god wasn’t listening.
A passing Austin Seven stops to say hello, we’re very impressed with how great it looks.
We find a lime kiln on the way, abandoned early 1900 it would have produced the needed alkaline quicklime to balance the very acid soils in this area, later replaced by more modern fertilisers and other chemicals.
Soon we’re at Vindolanda, the site of a Roman fort, indeed of several over the period of almost 300 years, from AD 85 to around AD 370. Lost in time, the bulk of the rediscovery was made by Eric Birley and continued by his descendants to this day. It’s believed there were nine forts on the site over the period, this is how it might have looked at some time.
Although the ruined footprint is astonishing, the jewel of the dig is in the museum found alongside which is full to bursting with finds, a true treasure-trove of fascinating artefacts. Shoes, jewellery (this is a glass bangle, beautifully painted) and part of a water chronometer for example.
After this we press on to our intended goal, Milecastle 40, a viewing point of Hadrian’s wall, which is also an access point for those walking alongside it, which we’re not.
Our return journey stops briefly at Bardon Mill to take on water supplies and ice cream then we walk a few miles down the Allen George and head home. What a welcome sight as we approach.
Arriving only just in time for our scheduled drinkies with friends, we opt for Pims, which is a big mistake as they don’t know how to make it. It would be unseemly to complain in front of others, so we endure this sour concoction whilst chatting away on the lawn.
Our aperitif tonight is taken in the impressive reception hall.
Dinner is excellent, we swap mains from last night, try new starters of tandoori monk fish and pigeon, and I also try the gooseberry crumble, which makes the earlier Pims seem like nectar, it is so exquisitely sour!
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