Addington - my first thrilling view - Saturday April 28, 2012

My plan had been to trek over to Addington tomorrow, Sunday. Addington, for anyone who doesn't know the story, is where my great-great-grandparents and two other family members are buried (actually more than that, I would discover later) and it's where my grandmother's uncle was rector for 33 years, until 1920. Jeff, from the B&B, decided to drive me over so I'd know how to get there on foot - he said he had to get some groceries anyway. Away we went in his Mazda RX8 or whatever. Good thing he showed me where it was because some of the country roads look like driveways. I saw horses being ridden at the equestrian centre in Addington - there is an event on Sunday and Monday which I'd like to see if it's not pouring rain.

The area is quite lovely - green fields, hedges, sheep and some grand old buildings.

I thought we'd just be driving by but Jeff pulled up to the church and stopped the car. It was a huge, huge thrill for me to be here.

We went into the church and he pointed out the glass that is a feature at this church.

And there on the wall was my relative's name: Mackwood Stevens. Mackwood was a 'big deal' in the family by all accounts. Below his name is Laurence Olivier's father's name.

Outside we looked at a few headstones. I knew I was looking for 4 together, but figured I could go back and look tomorrow.

My cousin's information that they were in the northwest area was quite helpful. I looked over and saw the cedar trees and, remembering the picture of granddad standing there at the markers when he visited when he went overseas during WWI... 

...it looked just like that. I beelined over there. Thank goodness the inscriptions are online because the letters are hard to see. Jeff came over and brushed off some moss until we could make out the names. From left to right facing the stones: my grandmother's brother Arthur Vivian Stevens, my great-great-grandparents Thomas Jones Stevens and Mary Maddick (spelled Maddock here) Stevens, and another of my grandmother's brothers, Norman Armidale Stevens. I would like to go and just sit here, if the sun ever comes out.

I became a bit emotional - to be standing in this place I'd heard about for most of my life. Jeff gave me a hug and kissed my cheek. Interestingly, he has family buried here too.

If you backed up from my family's stones, you would come to a marker for Laurence Olivier's dad who was rector later.

Next to the church is the rectory. Mackwood and his second wife lived there for decades and many members of the family had visited or stayed in that house. I wanted to see it.

The rectory is not really visible from the road. For a better view, Jeff strode off through a gate into a muddy wheatfield and I followed. It was a very muddy field. Am I ever glad I didn't buy those more stylish shoes with the holes in the sides. As well as thick and heavy, the mud was slippery. What a disaster it would have been if I had fallen over in my papaya coloured trench coat. I should have taken a photo of the great clods of mud that accumulated on my virtually new shoes. They were a mess.

I got a glimpse of the rectory from afar. This house was for sale not long ago. If I'd had the money, I would have bought it.

Another house in the neighbourhood.

Back at the B&B Jeff started phoning around. I talked to an author of some books on the area who gave me some good tips. I'm really hoping to track down a photo of this relative that, oddly, we have none of.

It was all very exciting.

I wandered around town (Winslow) for a bit, in the rain. The restaurant on the corner wasn't open, so I popped my head in another down the road. Some men were inside the door drinking and talking loudly. The young lady behind the counter was so friendly, so English, that I thought I'd go back when they opened at 6:00.

Went to a shop and dropped back at the B&B where Jeff advised against going to that place. 'Paprika', just a few steps away on the corner, was much better he said, then asked if I'd made a reservation. He phoned and found they didn't have room until 8:30. He asked if I minded if he came along. So he did and during dinner he told me about some of the other people in the restaurant. I felt like I was in an episode of Midsomer Murders - not for the murder part but the Englishness.