On the road to Graceland

No dramas at breakfast this time. We hit the road at 8.30am listening to the CD of my new best friend, Jason Link. He's not bad on the ear. 

Actually he loves me. I know that because he kissed me twice (the others got only one kiss) and he wrote that he loves me on his $10.00 CD I purchased at the bar where he was singing, our final stop on the city tour of Nashville.  But...I had to let him down gently; I'm a travelling gal, need to keep moving. 

The first stop was a happy happenstance. We'd been planning to stop for coffee at Jackson, Tennessee but missed the exit. Instead we took exit 80A off I-40 which led us straight to Casey Jones village. According to its website on http://caseyjones.com  it is 'the best whistlestop between Memphis and Nashville.' And so it proved to be.

It comprises a series of buildings, a couple of them looking like log cabins, one of which houses the 'world famous Brooks Shaw's Old Country Store.' We'd never heard of it but it made an indelible impression, especially the food. Kathie's eyes lit up when she saw their beef brisket and declared she was going to have some. Bear in mind we were only an hour or two from breakfast.

Kathie's beef brisket

Maxine and I settled for coffee and shared peach cobbler, all delicious. While lining up for our food Maxine got into conversation with a tall, well dressed black woman who told us she had been at a party the night before where one of the family members dropped dead of a heart attack. She'd been comforting people she hardly knew all night. He was only 45. I'd got her all wrong, given that it was Sunday morning, I thought she'd come straight from church. 

peach cobbler

Of course Casey Jones is a tourist trap, and I bought a few bits of Elvis memorabilia there.







I took over the driving for the first time, all the while telling myself  'keep right, keep right.' I had hardly been at the wheel but a few minutes when the navigator (Kathie) fell asleep and the back seat passenger nodded off too. Good job driving in the US is so easy, especially when you stick to freeways as we did.

Via my netbook and thanks to free wireless access, we'd booked a Comfort Inn again, a bigger suite (2 toilets) after making sure there was also refrigeration in the room. A step up we thought until we stepped over a towel mopping up what must have been a bit of a flood the night before, to enter the lift. In the interests of heart health we took the stairs when we could but even that was fraught with occupational hazards, one of the hand rails was broken. The best thing about the hotel is its location, only 3 miles from Graceland. After a cup of tea and pastries filched from the Best Western Breakfast bar back in Nashville, we drove there to do a recce before our official tour the next day.

To the accompaniment of Elvis hits blaring from the loudspeakers, we explored the lobby of the Heartbreak Hotel, (it has Elvis films playing 24/7 on an old style TV)






We saw the King's 2 aeroplanes, the Lisa Marie and a smaller one, ate an ice cream in the fifties-style ice cream parlour, and made some purchases in the inevitable gift shops, all over priced. We  hoped to take pictures of ourselves outside the famous Graceland gates but couldn't find the house. The next day we kicked ourselves when he discovered it was across the street!

Ice cream parlor at Graceland tourist complex

 We were so tired that night we ordered in from Marlow's as recommended by the hotel. Fried green tomatoes appealed because of the movie and the fact that I'd never eaten them before. Alas! These were not the finest examples because like the southern fried chicken, they were coated with thick breadcrumb batter. They sat heavy on our stomachs but didn't stop us from sleeping. Maxine was so tired she slept in her clothes all night!

It's hard to know why we were so weary, given that it was a short driving day and we didn't do much walking, only 3561 steps. Maybe it was mental tiredness, and the warmth, the temperature was around 85 degrees Fahrenheit. It could also have been the oppressive damp atmosphere in the hotel. Dreamt about seeing Graceland the next day.

More of Nashville, health mecca of Tennessee

One needs to wash one’s tea bag before making tea with it. At least that is what a small Chinese woman (the kitchen assistant at Belle Meade Best Western) told me at breakfast. She actually stopped me in the process of making tea to take me in the kitchen area, discard the water I’d just poured over my tea bag so that I could refill using my now clean tea bag. Amazing! I’ve gone 70 years without knowing that. Of course it would have tasted much better in a china teacup. So far all we've seen is polystyrene, yuk.

While that was interesting and a bit amusing, it was not the most exciting happening of the early morning; that fell to Kathie who set the fire alarm going when ironing in the room. Flashing lights and loud beeps accompanied us to the breakfast area. No one turned a hair, and the beeping continued as I learned about washing tea bags and we tried to diagnose what was on offer for breakfast.

Maxine started to spoon out what she thought was porridge into her bowl before someone pointed out it was sausage gravy. We looked on open-mouthed as large men lashed their biscuits with great dollops of the beige sludge. 

The lights were still flashing when we came downstairs for our tour bus an hour later. This time a fire alarm expert was coming in to fix it, claimed he smelt smoke, as we did. We were glad to be getting out of there.

According to Steve our Grayline bus driver, Nashville is a ‘4-Hooter town.’ In the same breath he told us Nashville was the ‘Buckle of the Bible Belt.’ The mind boggles.

Steve settled into a running commentary about the history of Nashville, a river town with a population of half a million. The main industry is HEALTH. Judging by the large medical establishments in the place we believed him. The whole population must be as sick as dogs to support those conglomerates, or made to feel that way at least.

What a disillusionment, here we were thinking that music was the driving force behind the city but it comes second, followed by tourism. We saw the Parthenon, modelled on the original to such a fine degree that when the original Parthenon in Greece was being spruced up they came to Nashville and copied the plans!

We saw Loretta Lynn’s 2 homes and where Sarah Conner aka Minnie Pearl used to live. The music industry is a $6 billion industry, I dread to think what the health industry generates. Haven’t they heard of health promotion? Maybe if more people washed their tea bags and stopped eating sausage gravy they might get better.

painting of Ryman Auditorium

We passed Elvis’s favourite RCA recording studio and various independent recording studios, only from the outside unfortunately. We did go inside the Ryman Auditorium however.
It was once a church filled with pews of people listening to the gospel. The space has great acoustics; those preachers must have frightened the devil right out of there. Then after various ups and down it became a mecca for performers of all kinds from Ballet companies to Johnny Cash and the Carter family. The old bill posters made fascinating reading.

The most intriguing place however was the Country Music Hall of Fame and Museum.

From old film footage of the pioneers of country music (English and Irish fiddlers) to the gospel and blues influences of black slaves I could understand the roots of Dolly Parton’s urge to write about the hardships and longings of life (her scribbled jottings of Jolene are on display) and Elvis’s unique blending of country, blues and gospel into rock ‘n’ roll.

Histories of the likes of Tammy Wynette and Loretta Lynn are depicted in detail, but I didn’t see much about current country singers. We were especially taken with the Silver Dollar Car (not Elvis’s) with it’s fake bull horns on the front and pistols for door handles etc.

Johnny Cash & June Carter's clothes

You’d have thought I’d have left there with some country ditty running around in my head but no; for some reason I have bars of “Killing me Softly” as a constant companion throughout the whole time in the USA, could not get rid of it.

We left there with the 'hooter-lovin’ Steve pointing out Roy Orbison’s building from where the family continues to run their business. We didn’t get to see the current Grand Ole Opry because it is still recovering from the floods of a few months ago, and backstage tours did not seem to be available. Performances have resumed but we didn’t attend any, we were too knackered in the evenings.

We returned to the hotel about one thirty to find it still in one piece and no fire bells ringing. At a place near Calhoun’s (of the great steak from the night before) we availed ourselves of their chicken wrap special, a bargain at 4.95. Then onto something completely different.

The Pacific Northwest glass artist Dale Chihuly was exhibiting his pieces in the gardens of Cheekwood Manor, only 3 miles from out hotel. I’ll let the photos do the talking.

 Needless to say it was a high reading on the pedometer by the end of the day, 9116 steps. Must be good for our health!

On the road to Nashville, Tennessee

October 15 2010


None of us was prepared for the beauty of Tennessee, not because of negative expectations, we had none...of any kind. It’s just that no one in our lives has raved about it. I’m going to rave about it, especially Chattanooga.

To get in the mood I’m playing Music by The Highwaymen, namely, Johnny Cash, Waylon Jennings, Willie Nelson, and Kris Kristofferson singing on their album ‘The road goes on forever.’ Sometimes it felt like that on our road trip but not on the I-24 to Tennessee because of the beauty of the rolling green hills and the abundance of trees, most of which were still green when we passed through.

We wanted to stop in Chattanooga because of the song, ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo,’ a song written and recorded in December 1941 a year and a half after I was born. We grew up listening to it. Dad must have had it among his 78s. 

The Chattanooga Choo Choo train is parked at the Station which also is a hotel with the inevitable gift shop and nice looking restaurant that we did not stop at. We’d heard there was a free shuttle to the city and were surprised to find it was an electric powered bus, and that Chattanooga is a centre for research into electric powered transportation. Interesting given it’s train history.

The trip to the city revealed a visitor centre that directed us to a pedestrian bridge across the Tennessee River, one of the many large rivers of America, (1049 kms long). We walked the boardwalk of the bridge (about a mile long) over the river to the North shore. Stunning scenery on a beautiful day, with the foothills of mountains in the background and rocky ridges on the shore line. After a subway sandwich eaten in the sunshine we walked back.

Two of four bridges over Tennessee River

The free shuttle provided entertainment with local school children leaning to name foods and places with a designated letter of the alphabet, a nice finishing off to a lovely 2 hours visit. Since looking up what Chattanooga has to offer the visitor I would say it would be worthy of a few days stay. We however had other fish to fry so we moved on.

Our next stop was a diversion. A friend of Maxine’s lives in Tullahoma, and since she is an ex pat of English origin we looked forward to a robust cup of tea in real cups. Thus far we had been subjected to piss poor offerings in polystyrene cups with wimpy American tea bags that needed a minimum of ten minutes steeping.

While looking at the map Maxine pointed out Soddy Daisy, a town off the beaten track, all on its own. “is it any wonder!’ she said. We laughed as we speculated how it could have got its name. I’ve looked it up, it isn’t half as interesting as the ones we came up with, just a joining up of the two communities Soddy with Daisy. Didn't bother looking up those origins.

We traversed country roads, passing many churches, some of which I’ve never heard, although Baptist features the most followed by Methodist. Ann lives in a rural area, a great house on a few acres. The tea was beyond our expectations, in fact it was too strong, were we becoming acclimatized?

Kathie & Maxine in Ann's Garden Tullahoma

She kindly drove in front to guide us out onto a shorter access onto highway I-24. We made Nashville about an hour later. We were destined to taste our best steak of the trip, at Calhoun’s down the road from the Belle Meade Best Western, our hotel for the next two nights, chosen because it had refrigeration!



Attacking key lime pie, Nashville

 Bonnie our recommended waitress, with the hard face and pleasant manner, served us proficiently. It is so nice coming across people who are good at their jobs! The creamed spinach was to die for, and Maxine got her key lime pie at last. In fact we shared it, being too full of steak, baked potato, bourbon carrots and the aforementioned spinach to attempt a slice each.

We fell into bed having completed 7,308 steps according to Kathie’s pedometer, 700 up on the previous day’s steps in Atlanta. That translates to about 3 and a half miles. What awaits us tomorrow?

Off to Atlanta

Have decided to postpone blog about NY and get on the road.  (I will be returning there in a few days, and will expound then.)

At JFK got a rookie luggage searcher who spotted something in my bag.

Let me backtrack: I planned to check in my bag and packed accordingly eg. shower gel, aerosol mousse, scissors. The guy at check-in had other ideas; 'you'll miss your flight if you do that.'  Hence the dilemma and the delay at security. Managed to keep the scissors, (short, blunt ended) but had to dump the other stuff.

How I've hated all this security checking; shoes off, netbook in tray etc. When you do a multi flight holiday it gets old very quickly (actually from the first flight!) Naturally I boarded with a migraine.

Fortunately the flight to Atlanta was uneventful, and picking up the car from Enterprise went smoothly (a white Ford, 4 door automatic). The Comfort Inn Downtown is definitely low market but the reception was friendly. Lucky for us no ball game was playing at nearby Turner Field so we had the area pretty much to ourselves.

The room had no fridge, occasioning frequent visits to the ice machine so that I could keep my thyroid pills cool.

The 49 bus which stops outside the hotel took us the 4 miles into town. We'd heard much about the Underground Market in Atlanta and were eager to see the sights.

Believe me it aint that great. Many of the stores were closed and it was not bustling with people. In fact the whole area looks as though it's struggling to keep up, if not downright seedy. This was brought home to us when a store owner advised us about which direction to walk when we left his shop. We didn't probe further and took the right turn as he advised.

At Score's sports bar (in the Underground Market) had my first rack of ribs, albeit shared with Kathie. It was enormous, tasty and tender, covered lightly in smoky sauce. 

Rediscovered the fact that the price quoted on the menu is not the price you pay; there is state tax and the tip, in total whacking an extra 21% plus on the bill. Ah well, this is America!

Things picked up on day 2:

"You gotta scrape it ma'am." Words of advice from Atlanta's finest helping me make my breakfast waffle, in true do it yourself style. Police seem to visit this hotel regularly, we're not sure why although on that morning one client woke up to find his car stolen from the parking lot.  The police helping themselves to coffee in the breakfast area advised hotel staff to call 911, (they were already on it) so even more police showed up. The waffle was so so, too much liquid in the mix.

We left them to it, heading into Atlanta for our city tour in a little open sided (?electric) buggy.

Steve our driver/host was articulate, knowledgeable and cute. We learned the history of Atlanta from the 1861 civil war to the rebuilding of the city, much of which seemed to happen circa 1913. Discovered the more well-heeled parts of the city, and how much it all cost, a pattern of information to be repeated in all out future city tours. I ask you, who cares?



The afternoon saw us visiting CNN. What a huge enterprise it is. You enter a large atrium, mall, court type place with eateries, shops and the like. The tour begins when you ascend via the world's tallest free standing escalator: it takes 2 1/2 minutes to reach the top. Turner broadcasting employs 3,400 people. Kathie did a cold read of news from a teleprompter. As expected she didn't miss a beat, and impressed our guide.

We were told that the people who stare at computer screeens all day long scouring for news, have a lot of laser surgeries. No wonder.

There is now a Spanish lanuage CNN. We learned a lot about cameras, watched an anchorwoman doing her stuff. All the employess understand they will be stared at like monkeys in a zoo and learn to ignore it. Indeed the building was planned with tours in mind. Tours began in 1987. There is hotel on site too.

After red beans and rice (which I like very much) we walked across the park where the shooting took place during the 1996 Olympics to Coca Cola. Now I didn't particularly want to go there but it came with the tour package.

Little did I know that so much happiness came out of those bubbles. What have I been missing out on all these years?  Of course it was one big advertising campaign and people lined up and paid inflated prices buying items advertising the product. Not me, but I did avail myself of the free coke (although a week later I have still not drunk it)  and taste tested products from a vareity of countries.

The highlight was the 4D viewing experience at the end, it is truly amazing with rocking seats, mini showers of water and things that seemed to leap off the screeen.

The evening ended up with catfish in a sports bar and a date with my new best friend Rand McMally, plotting the route out of Atlanta and on to Nashville. We also booked the next hotel, making sure our room had a fridge in it.

Sculpture in Atlanta

Going down south

Oct 17 2010


Now, don’t get excited. I’m not talking about Memphis where we’re heading this morning (I’m writing this in the car) but Brighton on the south coast of England where an old school friend lives with her husband. Valerie and I re-connected via Friends Reunited 2 years ago. We hadn’t seen each other since we were 14 years old, Those who know me can work out how long ago that was!

First Class worked this time on the train from Newark to London. Enjoyed my free coffee and the decent loos. Just as well. Things were chaotic in London thanks to a strike by underground staff… so plan B; catch the 73 bus to Victoria wherefrom the train to Brighton leaves. Naturally it was crowded with people like me trying to figure out how to buy a ticket for said bus. In the end it didn’t matter, no one bothered to look.

So I saw a bit of London I did not expect to see since my London friends moved to Sheffield: Oxford Street, Piccadilly Circus, Marble Arch, even the gold helmets and bright red coats of the Horse guards trotting into Hyde Park.

Like Preston, another smart car was there to meet me, this time a snazzy red Volvo, lovely!

We went through Valerie’s old autograph books, remember them? I was surprised at my neat hand writing ta age 13 or so. One of my entries read, ‘Valerie now, Valerie for ever, Dennis now but not for ever.’ Dennis was her surname. (In the spirit of the times we gals were not expected to keep our maiden names for long.)

A series of coincidences, spooky moments, degrees of separation, call them what you will, happened on this visit. Valerie’s husband is currently concerning himself with local apples, the kind whose seeds need to be saved and cared for in order to keep propagating them. (Hope I got that right) Naturally I told him about our ancestor and her Bramley apple seeds, (See blog Sept 30 2010)

Next, a relative of Valerie’s parents recently died. Turns out she was the wife of my sister Maxine’s local doctor in Saxilby where she used to live. In fact said doctor was present when her second child was born. As to the third coincidence, read on…

Valerie and I took a trip to Lewes, a place I’ve never been. It has many steep narrow cobbled streets, a bit like Lincoln. Among many historical buildings it has a castle and the Fifteenth Century Bookstore.

 In there I found a very 20th century tale, namely ‘Last Train to Memphis,’ the story of Elvis Presley’s early life. How cool was that! Valerie very kindly made a present of it for me. It is detailed and perfect for my trip. Naturally I am reading it as we travel through America.

Back to Lewes: we sweet talked our way into the back garden of Anne of Cleves House, circa 1540. She was one of Henry the eighth's wives, lucky enough to escape with her life. Her house, which she never lived in, is a building site right now and we were supposed to wear hard hats. I took a few quick photos and retreated.

Anne of Cleves House

Back in Brighton, we walked around the Pavilion, George the fourth’s weekend retreat. Wondered if he started the trend of using Brighton for dirty weekends? In the sixties, Brighton was well known for it.

Brighton Pavilion

A lovely meal at a Tandoori restaurant finished off my stay very nicely thank you Valerie and Brian.

With Brian’s book about South East England in my luggage I boarded the train at Brighton, managing to catch one that took me all the way to St. Pancras (next door to Kings Cross) so did not have to negotiate the underground at all, nice one.

With a nod to Harry Potter on Platform 9 ¾ I found my first class seat for the journey north.

Platform 9 3/4

We streaked through the fields of North Hants to the accompaniment of loud business discussions. Over numerous cups of coffee three exec types sitting across from me talked as though they were the only people on the train. They were supermarket men, two Americans, ex Walmart one of them, and one Brit. The ex Walmart guy described their employees as Walmartians. I ask you, Walmartians! They were on the way to Leeds. Fortunately I got off before that.

That was the last of my train journeys in the UK, and I’m wondering if buying first class was worth it since many trains don’t have first class carriages, with trains from Lincoln a prime example. On balance it turned out alright but I have learned not to expect too much, and that travelling on a weekday out of rush hour is the best time. There are plenty of seats available without having to book.

I’m trying to think of some nice rounded ending but I’m too tired. We’ve reached Memphis and I’m full of southern fried chicken and my eyes are getting heavy……….

Going 'oop north

Oct 15 2010


In the road in Tennessee and here I am not done with my English blog yet. Given that we’ve packed so much into the last 3 days it is hard to leave the excitement. Never mind you’ll have to wait for that.

I went ‘oop north’ to visit dear friends in Preston and Bamfurlong near Wigan. Passing through Manchester on the train the sight of the canals reminded me of the Industrial Revolution when cotton and wool from the ‘dark, satanic’ mills was shipped out through places like Manchester to all parts of the world. How said mills employed children as young as three who endured horrendous working conditions and danger such that it killed many, and stunted the growth of those more lucky. I thought of the trade unions formed in this area and the fight they had to force decent working conditions that we all take for granted today, four weeks holiday a year, sick leave, a 40 hour week to name a few (although the 40 hour week seems to be fast disappearing these days.)

I expected noting but begrimed and be-sooted buildings between Manchester and Preston but I was pleasantly surprised to encounter gentle green slopes, plenty of trees and grazing sheep. This will be an enduring memory of England, something I’ve forgotten or taken for granted in the past. Maybe my recent trip in the Top End of Australia with its red earth and sparse trees have provided such a stark contrast that it startled my consciousness into a better appreciation of England’s lush green countryside.

I bought a first class rail flexi pass because I could get a senior discount at a cost of a only few dollars more than the standard class which does not offer a senior rate. Overall it worked out fairly alright but was disappointing on the first leg of this trip; no service and grotty toilets. Gagging for a brew, I purchased coffee at Manchester Station only to find that First Class in the second leg provided free beverages. There was some consolation in the free fruit cake.

My friends met me at the station in a shiny new Audi (Is that A5 or A6?) Nothing second class about that car, it did everything except make a cup of tea…lovely!

It was pretty cool but fine..ish when we took the dog for a walk in the morning. Watched birds from a bird hide and a grey squirrel bustling about stocking up for winter. The grey squirrels are not looked upon kindly in the UK. They are bullying their way about the place pinching all the nosh from the more timid red squirrels which don’t seem to be around much any more.

At the pub I saw a sight I’d never seen before, Yorkshire puddings stacked up under glass ready to be added to the roast meat special of the day.

On a day trip to Manchester the following day we ran into the Labour party Conference…well the barriers and the police at least. Ed Milliband had just been voted the new labour leader that weekend. While the media went hysterical, most people I spoke to scratched their heads and yawned about it.

Given my musings on the train (a la industrial revolution etc.) it seemed appropriate to visit the People’s Museum which was exhibiting the history of people’s protests over the ages.

Fights for working conditions and the suffragettes were represented, even an executioner’s axe for killing said protesters.

Pictures and artefacts of anti apartheid protests of the seventies, alongside feminist marches of the same decade were also displayed.

After 3 days I said farewell to dear friends and boarded the train, remarking to myself how more efficient the trains seemed to be these day. Oh dear…spoke too soon, even it was to myself. The train developed brake problems and limped into one station before I needed to get off. Of course I missed my connection and arrived back in Nettleham an hour late.

Sometimes howeer it is good to see things from a different angle to appreciate them. The missed connection was a petty annoyance but revisiting England’s past history and present beauty was worth the trip. Not to mention my wonderful friends!!!!

Hedgehog Hospital

Hedgehog Hospital, Authorpe, Lincolnshire.


First of all, where to find it.

Authorpe rates one line in Wikipedia: Authorpe is a village north west of Alford, Lincolnshire, England lying between the A16 road and the A157 road. It has a chapel, and former brickpits.

Frankly I’m surprised it rates a mention it is so tiny, the parish all of 941 acres. In 1931 the population was 112, probably not much more now judging by the number of houses. The only access I know is by car. There is a sign directing you to the hedgehog hospital but you have to look for it. Then you follow a vey narrow road which is not well signposted. Most of the time there is no on to ask either but it is well worth it when you get there. Be prepared for a higgledy piggledy state of affairs. It is not a pristine antiseptic world. The sign says it all.

This is the third time I’ve visited. The first time I was startled to see the coutnry lanes in front of the hedghog hospital filled with bikers. They raise money and were due there the following weekend. I've always been sorry I didn't photograph the sight.

This visit was the saddest. The place is running down. The little hedgehog footprints painted on the path are fading, the owner weary and limping. However her enthusiasm for hedgehogs continues to burn very brightly. She is totally dedicated to rescuing hedgehogs from the effects of indiscriminate spraying by council workers, inadvertent spearings by enthusiastic compost turning, over friendly dogs etc.

What are hedgehogs? (Taken from a website about hedgehogs)

There are some 15 species of hedgehog in Europe, Asia, and Africa. Hedgehogs have also been introduced into nontraditional ranges such as New Zealand (none in Australia). The hedgehog was named because of its peculiar foraging methods. These animals root through hedges and other undergrowth in search of the small creatures that compose the bulk of their diet—insects, worms, centipedes, snails, mice, frogs, and snakes. As a hedgehog picks its way through the hedges it emits piglike grunts—thus, the hedgehog.

Some people consider hedgehogs useful pets because they prey on many common garden pests. While on the hunt, they rely upon their senses of hearing and smell because their eyesight is weak.

We saw them in the garden regularly as kids but I fear they are not as plentiful now.

Click on Elaine Drewery’s annual newsletter online and you will see for yourself how devoted she is. But it has not been updated since 2004, possibly a sign she is not keeping up. http://www.hedgehogcare.org.uk/05_hedgehog_care_rescue_sanctuary_about_us.htm

The website below describes it as a ‘Famous little hospital, self-funded, not very posh!’

http://www.lincolnshire.gov.uk/popiOrgVenue.asp?vid=334

Elaine showed us some of the long term residents in the Oliver Brown ward who would not be able to survive on their own, one blind, one without a snout, a few with missing legs. Then she took us to the intensive care unit. I was both horrified and moved. All the chairs in her small living room are taken up with boxes of hedgehogs being nursed from the brink of death. She lovingly takes some of them out and shows them off, each one named, and describes their mishaps and treatment, comprising round the clock antibiotics and cleaning of snouts, squeezing of abscesses etc. (One abscess needed urgent attention while we were there) A coal fire burned in the grate guaranteeing warmth for her little charges but uncomfortable for visitors.

While we were there a local couple brought in a new case. Elaine immediately spotted his poor colour and shortness of breath. He was destined for intensive care. Nevertheless he headed for the nearest underbrush when she took him out of the box.

The hedgehogs she receives now will stay with her through the hibernating months of winter then she rehabilitates those more able back into the countryside. A local woman has 33 acres of land, and takes  a few each year, gradually weaning them off their canned cat food until they can forage sufficiently for themselves.

Of course some hedgehogs don’t get this far. If Elaine sees a hedgehog nearing the end she feeds him or her a last supper. Mind you, one or two have had last suppers and are still surviving, although they cannot return to the wild. There is a hedgehog cemetery in the back of the property and a memorial to them.

If anyone deserves a medal it is Elaine but, in her own words, she is looked upon as a crank and a nuisance. She believes hedgehogs have as much right to exist in this world as humans. Who can argue with that? I hope she gets enough help and money to continue her work. Maybe the single winner of this weekend's 112 million pound Euro Lottery could throw a million or two her way.



memorial to hedgehogs