Monument

In a side chapel at St Peter's Church, Edensor there's an ostentatious carved marble edifice called The Cavendish Monument. It commemorates the lives of two brothers - sons of Sir William Cavendish (1505-1557) and the redoubtable Bess of Hardwick (1527-1608).

Lying in the black box structure is an effigy of William Cavendish, the first Earl of Devonshire  (1552-1626) but beside him, facing the other way is a marble skeleton lying on a bed of woven straw. This represents Henry Cavendish (1550-1616) who by all accounts was an aristocratic scoundrel - a spendthrift who fathered at least eight illegitimate children. He ran up enormous debts and was disowned by his mother. The marble skeleton is both spooky and surprising

The visitor from Virginia asked me about the monument and was impressed that I knew so much about it. I didn't let on that I had checked out that side chapel a few hours earlier and had read up about the monument. The information was fresh in my memory and had not yet leaked away.

Interestingly, the reclining front brother William, an active parliamentarian, had played a significant role in arguing for the colonisation of Virginia in the mid sixteenth century but I didn't tell the American lady that as  I only discovered it later.

The long inscriptions on the tomb are both in Latin and allude to two very different brothers. Henry "indulged in the liberal and sumptuous use of his fortune" but William "was not only the best man of his own age but of every age,
The Cavendish Monument at Edensor


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Buteo Buteo



 I was content to let the previous, rather lazy post suffice for the day.
Nothing has much happened, so there’s nothing to report.
But I’ve just been for a walk with Mary, who has been a little under the weather today, and I needed to share something, like you do when something quite profound, or beautiful or both has just happened.

We walked down the lane to Graham The Shepherd’s gate. His fields lead off to the West and the dusk sky was still clear against the silhouettes of the hawthorn hedges and trees and fences. 
It was cold and fresh and sat at the very top of the dead Ash tree , the one that always dominates the skyline sat a lone buzzard. 
He was crying out like buzzards do.
A strange mixture of cat call mew and squawk…a keey ya! 
Sharp and plaintive 
A lonely call in the darkening dusk.
I picked Mary up and she rested her feet on the top rung of the gate and she watched and listened as Welsh Terriers do and I could feel the thump of her heart against my chest as it raced to the cry of the buzzard as  it continued to call in the dark.
A moving rather  beautiful and simple little moment,
Caught by accident on a Friday evening



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Rainy Day


 Dreadful weather today. Torrential rain 
Three dogs on the couch day 
Watched Amélie, Airport 77 and ate fish pie


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Friday

 Craving brownies 

Devouring new books

Listening to a cute pooch

Your turn?



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