Day of failure

After Steve and I left the Trout Inn, we headed south to Maidstone, Kent. I was spending eight days there because it is home to the Kent History and Library Centre. Kent was at the heart of England's hops market, so it plays a big part in my dissertation research. After all, you can't have beer without hops.

We decided to take our time getting to Maidstone. Neither of us was familiar with this part of the country and we wanted to take in the scenery. The night before we left, Steve suggested we swing by Winchester. I asked what was there and was embarrassed when Steve mentioned the cathedral. Of course, Winchester Cathedral! How could I have forgotten? I was quite excited at the prospect.

As we enjoyed some non-alcoholic refreshment at The Trout Inn, Steve was looking at the map and realized Highclere was an easy side trip. Highclere plays the roll of Downton Abbey in the popular series. Highclere was closed that day, but we decided to take the trip anyway. It would be fun to catch a glimpse of the famous house.

We found the exit to Highclere and made our way down a tree shrouded road. We got to the front gate of the property, but you couldn't see the house. Steve drove around the nearby roads hoping for a view, but it was all in vain. That is one very well-shrouded house. I was a bit disappointed, but I still had the cathedral to look forward to so I didn't really mind all that much that we failed to catch even the tiniest glimpse of Downton Abbey.

A little while later, we were in Winchester. It was a busy Saturday in the town and parking was difficult to come by. We were very lucky yo happen upon a fellow as he was leaving. We paid for two hours of parking. We were only there for the cathedral and I figured two hours would offer a decent look-around.

We found the public facilities then had a browse around the adjacent shop. I picked up a Winchester Cathedral pin for my collection and admired some Christmas ornaments. I figured the delicate tail on the Christmas bird I was admiring would break in my suitcase, so I reluctantly put it back. Then we went to the cathedral.

Winchester Cathedral really shows its age more so than other old churches. The outside needed a good washing. As we joined the long queue to enter, I admired the arches. It wasn't very ornate, but still impressive considering it was built around 1097. Steve didn't like it all that much. It was no Yorkminster, that's for sure. And we both agreed it lacked any special feeling. Still, we weren't past the ticket booth yet. Maybe it felt better inside.

There was only one girl working the ticket booth and the line moved painfully slowly because she had to take all kinds of information from each person for some unknown reason. Whilst in line I saw signage about Jane Austen. Come to find out, Jane Austen is bured at Winchester Cathedral! I had no idea! It turns out her memorial marker was along a nearby wall just out of sight. I could see a bit of flowers, but that was it. I couldn't wait to get inside. I wanted to get a photo of Jane's grave to share with my Aunt Jody, who is an avid Austen admirer.

By now, we had been in line over ten minutes and only one party had received their tickets. The line mainly got shorter when people gave up and left. Finally a large group was handled and now we were about four parties away from getting inside. That's when the girl announced that she was the only one working that day and she was "desperate for the toilet." With that she left for the public loos. The toilets were a fair distance away and she wasn't rushing despite her claim that she was desperate. We figured it'd be about ten minutes before she got back. And at least another twenty before we actually got inside. We had only 70 minutes left on our parking space, and probably a good ten-minute walk back. Steve questioned whether it was worth staying. We would be paying close to £20 to get about a half hour. I agreed that it would be a waste and stepped out of line.

I was deeply disappointed and angry, but I knew we made the right decision. Still, my mood got bleaker as we walked to the car and then drove out of Winchester. By the time we reached the motorway, I was actually heartbroken. I don't understand why I had such an extreme reaction. I guess I really had my heart set on seeing the cathedral and the Jane Austen connection made it that much more important to me. I was so unhappy that Steve actually started to turn around to go back, bless his heart. But I told him no. We were already a half hour out of town, and when we left the ticket queue was three times as long as when we arrived. I appreciated his offer, but it wasn't a viable option.

Steve then said we would come back later in the week. That buoyed my spirits. Ultimately, though, I nixed the idea in favor of a different adventure. So I've yet to see Winchester Cathedral in all of its glory. Strangely, I'm now not bothered. I know I'll see it eventually. Maybe even during some point of this stay in the UK. Who knows? But I'm fine whether I see it sooner or later. My heartbreak seems to have been restricted solely to the day of failure.

I did manage to get a few photos.