Wallington to Royston.

My taxi driver is Sri Lankan and a keen walker, particularly fond of the Austrian Alps. The journey goes quickly, with us chatting about different places. Obviously, he knows the areas in Sri Lanka I have been to. I point out George Orwell’s cottage to him as he wishes me good luck on a day when, according to the weatherman, thundery heavy showers are a certainty. 

Of course, it is bright sunshine as I set off up the lane towards the church, which I visited yesterday. 

A stile leads into a field where a herd of Jacob sheep is grazing, and I keep a watch on the heavily horned ram watching me. At least I have had no cows to deal with on this walk.

In the following few fields, my way is well worn between harvested crops until I have a choice of four cleared paths to the road at the few houses of Redhill.

Thatched cottages are becoming more and more common in the surrounding villages. A hedged track leads onwards, and I enjoy a second breakfast from the bumper crop of blackberries. Having gained height, I can see for miles.

Horsey enclosures herd me into Sandon—more thatch, both grand and humble.

I wind through the village and head across the green to the prominent church, All Saints, its limestone walls gleaming in the sunshine. I’m surprised they have allowed an IW waynark on the listed lynch gate.

Inside, a man is kneeling, not praying, but painting the altar rails—a good chance to discover local knowledge, as he is happy to chat. He is sorry his wife isn’t there, as she is busy writing up the Church’s history.

Half an hour later, I emerge and find a bench in the churchyard for an early lunch whilst it’s dry.

A couple of ancient lanes, Park and Notley, are signed for the Hertfordshire Way as well as my route and several others..

I decide I’d like to visit the church at Kelshall, so I change routes for a while and walk across newly ploughed fields.  A family of roe deer runs ahead of me. Then, through paddocks straight to the church, by which time I’ve accumulated an inch or so of mud on my boots.

St. Faith is another interesting church from the C15th. Its very distinctive walls are built from local flints. Modern glass doors give access through the porch, once you have wiped all that mud off your boots. Notice the C15th Medieval cross base and shaft in the churchyard.

The Medieval inner wooden door retains its original fittings.

The plain interior is visually appealing. 

But then look up and see the spectacular painted beams.

In the north, nave the roof beams are treated differently. The support beam ends are decorated with carved figureheads, which I struggled to photograph. Nor did I photograph effectively the coloured Medieval rood screens.

The village itself has a medieval cross base alongside a modern millennium cross.

On the lane are some fine houses, Fox Hall and Cottage.

Beyond the duck pond, a lane leads straight to Therfield Church, with the remains of a motte and bailey just visible on the edge of the churchyard. 

St. Mary’s is a much larger church. There has been a church on this site since Anglo-Saxon times, a C14th church replaced it, until in the late C19th it was rebuilt in a ‘similar’ Gothic style by  G.E. Pritchett. There are lots of C14th adornments incorporated into the church. Some bits didn’t make it,

Again, carved angels support the roof beams. The font is C14th. Hidden away is a cabinet full of small objects, I assume have been found in the surrounding fields, though there is no explanation. Fascinating collection.

I’m churched out and hope to get a drink and a bite to eat in the pub – but no, it’s closed. On the edge of the village are a few benches, so I eat some chocolate there. 

A message on one of the seats sets me off singing again. Not one of the best from The Specials, but listen to the brass section at the end.

A lane drops from here with views over the distant Brecklands.

I should have looked behind me; the sky is blackening. Within seconds, I’m in the middle of a heavy rainstorm, with the added interest of nearby thunder. The views disappear, and the track floods in no time.

I soon have my waterproofs on for what they are worth, but I forget the rucksack cover. Thankfully, as I’m in a treelined lane, I have some shelter from the wind, but the rain gets through everything. 

Entering Therfield Heath, there is no let-up; I just keep walking. I probably lose concentration, and I’m loath to use my phone in the downpour. I realise I’ve not seen any waymarks for a while. I’m on a good track, but it’s going in the wrong direction; I have no choice but to continue. A side trail might get me back on route, but when I follow it, I end up on the edge of a golf course. 

The rain stops as quickly as it started. Looking up, I can see the extent of the Heath, which should have been a highlight of the day.. The map shows tumuli and barrows up there. I think I can make out one of the tumuli.

A lane sees me safely past the golf club and onto the road into Royston.

My first thought is to find a café for a hot drink, but I end up having eggs on toast as well. The rain starts again, so I’m in no hurry to leave. The Tesco Express, where I buy sandwiches for tomorrow, is flooded after the downpour. 

Royston is an ancient market town situated at the junction of Ermine Street and Icknield Way. An old stone cross base, the Roisia Stone, sits at the junction.

Somewhere below the crossroads is Royston Cave. Only open at weekends, so I miss it. 

“Royston Cave remains an enigma. No records of its age or purpose exist. Some theories suggest it was used by the Knights Templar, while others claim it was a private chapel or hermitage, and some believe it to be a pagan site situated on two energy lines. Discovered by accident in 1742, Royston Cave is man-made, bell-shaped and cut 8 metres into the chalk that lies beneath Royston’s ancient crossroad, Ermine Street and Icknield Way. The cave is decorated with low-relief wall carvings, which are mostly Christian in depiction and medieval in style. The carvings include representations of the Holy Family, the Crucifixion and notable saints such as St George, St Catherine and St Christopher. Elsewhere are figures of a horse and an Earth Goddess, believed to be pagan fertility symbols. In addition to the carvings, the cave was found containing a human skull, an unmarked piece of brass and fragments of a drinking vessel.”   From the TripAdvisor site.

On the way down the street, I see the site of King James Ist’s hunting palace. He came to Royston between 1603 and 1627, one of his favourite places.

Across the road is the unassuming museum, which can be explored in just a short time. Bits of everything. The museum has a large collection of E. H. Whydale’s work. (1886-1952)  He lived in Royston most of his life. He was known for his sketches and watercolours of rural life. I can only find one of his paintings on display today.

After all that, it is time to visit the King James for a quiet pint before looking for my Airbnb.

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