Through the hedge - and over the edge!

This morning we went back through the hedge and met our two hostesses at breakfast. We concluded they must be very nice ladies as the "relative" in hospital was the father of the ex-husband of Marjorie. "He is 92 and has nobody - so someone has to care!" said Diane who is not related at all and had also been at the hospital.

I was delighted to discover that Little Moreton Hall, the most beautiful of all the Tudor black & white buildings was only about 35 minutes away, just past Congleton, so we set off to visit after breakfast. While passing through the little village of Marton we "discovered" a perfect little black & white church and of course had to stop and have a look.

Inside the church was unique - with its ancient fabric looking loved and cared for and all the signs of a building still being used and loved. I was amused by two ancient and badly damaged tombstones in the front of the porch which was not quite as "loved" in appearance. Children's toys and other odds and ends like plastic flowers were carelessly strewn in the corners and on the dusty surfaces of the tombstones.

We read that these relics had been in the churchyard for centuries and nobody knows who they are, although they probably date from the 11th Century. Eventually, all broken and worn they were "rescued" and brought inside some hundreds of years ago - and there they lie pretty much ignored and neglected.

As well as discovering the church we found there was a stile across the road. Of course I just had to climb over and it made a great vantage point for taking more photos of the dear little church.

We arrived at Little Moreton Hall and as we entered the gate and walked up the path I think Alan may have wished he did not know me as I was so excited to be there I was jumping up and down and saying "Oh! Oh! Isn't it just perfect!" This was indeed a "pinch me I can't really be here" moment. Alan was also pretty impressed with his first view of this house that has changed little in 500 years.

It was rather disappointing to discover that the famous "long hall" was being used to display someone's "work of art". This length of material was hung floor to ceiling the full length of the room and we could tell that the guide was disappointed too, as one of the things he likes to do is to demonstrate the unique acoustics of the room - apparently he just found it there when he arrived this morning. Later the National Trust Property Manager stopped to talk to us and I told him I was disappointed after waiting more than half my lifetime to see the house to find it spoiled by the "work of art". He said he was very interested in our feed-back and explained that the NT bosses had told the property managers "to take risks". To make up for our disappointment he took us upstairs for a private tour of an area that is not usually open to the public.

Alan was talking to the Manager about the incredible crookedness of the house and he commented that timber houses don't ever fall down, they just find a different way to stand. He said that when he has been away and he comes home he is thrilled every time he walks into the courtyard of Little Moreton Hall - he thinks it is just perfect!

However my favourite view is from the front with the facade reflected in the moat. The crookedest part of the house caused by the weight of the addition of the long hall on a building with no foundations just thrills me with its impossible charm. For me this visit to Little Moreton Hall was definitely a highlight of the trip.

After following a sign to look at the famous radio telescope of Jodrell Bank, we went to the village of Alderley Edge which is close to Wilmslow and was a place where many Victorians came and built large houses that are now very much sort after and very expensive. We had dinner there at a nice pub opposite a couple of these houses. The National Trust care for the area of cliffs that look over the expases of farming land and the city of Manchester in the distance. It is incomprensible that these sheer cliffs are unfenced and allow access to sheer drops via slippery tracks with no railings or fences. In Australia the National Trust would be crippled by public liability insurance if they invited visitors to walk to such an edge.

We stood back very carefully on the huge slabs of rock on the edge which gives the village its name and marvelled at the unencumbered view.
It would be of great interest to know how many unfortunate or careless people have fallen "over the edge".