Every now and again, my sister and I meet in Boston for lunch, with varying numbers of Hundleby family members. Boston is equidistant between our homes in Lincoln and Peterborough, and as our Aunt Kath lives there it is convenient for her to come along.
It was rather sad yesterday that since we last got together, we had lost our Aunt Lynne, our mother’s sister, and Herb, our step-father.
Carolyn and I always take a bus from Lincoln. It takes an hour and a half, but I always enjoy the journey, because the bus’s route is not along main roads but through a succession of villages and landscapes.
We climb up the Lincoln Edge towards Metheringham and then down towards the fens. At this stage the narrow roads bend and wind through woods and stone buildings, and I always wonder if we aren’t just going a little too fast. When we emerge onto the long straight roads towards Kirkstead, the deep dykes either side look like another accident waiting to happen.
We pass through Woodhall Spa, whose waters cured my mother-in-law of arthritis and where my great-uncle owned one of his shops. It’s now known as the refuge of the rich and retired, recently in the news for opposing a chicken farm. It has a delightful cinema, located in the woods (hence its name ‘Kinema in the Woods), the only one in the country, I believe, where the image is projected from behind the screen.
Before long we are in Tattershall, home of the Castle and the church where 'Tom Thumb' is buried.
I was always told that on a clear day you could see both Lincoln Cathedral and Boston Stump from the top of the castle and I’m happy to report that it’s quite true.
On to Coningsby, home of the Battle of Britain Memorial flight.
It was rather sad yesterday that since we last got together, we had lost our Aunt Lynne, our mother’s sister, and Herb, our step-father.
Carolyn and I always take a bus from Lincoln. It takes an hour and a half, but I always enjoy the journey, because the bus’s route is not along main roads but through a succession of villages and landscapes.
We climb up the Lincoln Edge towards Metheringham and then down towards the fens. At this stage the narrow roads bend and wind through woods and stone buildings, and I always wonder if we aren’t just going a little too fast. When we emerge onto the long straight roads towards Kirkstead, the deep dykes either side look like another accident waiting to happen.
We pass through Woodhall Spa, whose waters cured my mother-in-law of arthritis and where my great-uncle owned one of his shops. It’s now known as the refuge of the rich and retired, recently in the news for opposing a chicken farm. It has a delightful cinema, located in the woods (hence its name ‘Kinema in the Woods), the only one in the country, I believe, where the image is projected from behind the screen.
Before long we are in Tattershall, home of the Castle and the church where 'Tom Thumb' is buried.
I was always told that on a clear day you could see both Lincoln Cathedral and Boston Stump from the top of the castle and I’m happy to report that it’s quite true.
On to Coningsby, home of the Battle of Britain Memorial flight.
Well over halfway now. All around are vast fields, empty in January, dotted with idle tractors. Sometimes in the middle of them, a mile away, is a farmhouse, with barns and other buildings, set in a grove of trees.
Along the road are several isolated chapels, Methodist, Primitive Methodist and Baptist. Lines of windbreaking poplars, signs to places like Dogdyke, Gypsey Bridge, Scrub Hill, Cowbridge, Anton’s Gowt, even New York. I see we have turned out of ‘Hundlehouse Lane’.
We come a behind a typical Lincolnshire driver, ambling along at just below 40 mph, oblivious to the impatient bus tailgating him. We overtake eventually and as we take a bend at 60 I think we’re in the hands of the other variety of typical Lincolnshire driver.
But we arrive, safe and sound, and I’m all set to interrogate my aunt about the family, and listen to my sister reminding everyone how awful big brother was to her.
I wonder if it was sensible to invite her join this blog.
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