Become a master player in bridge


A Da Vinci Code Moment

Torrential rain fell from a brown-grey sky.while with the ancient key.Eventually the key
Impromptu streams formed themselves intheturned and I pushed open the heavy door.
middle of the roads, making drivingImmediately inside the door it was dark, and
difficult. It was very cold.I have often hadthe darkness became intense after the door
the experience, in my researches, ofswung shut behind me. Moving forward, I
penetrating into ever more remote areas ofentered the main body of the church where a
the county, only to find even more obscurebrownish light came through the windows from
communities that lie beyond. Just as youthe wet afternoon sky. The rain thundered
think you know a region, it surprises youdown on the roof.The interior was basically
with yet another aspect that appears, as ifone large room divided into a nave and a
from nowhere.Such a district is thechancel. The furnishings were sumptuous
south-easternmost part of the escarpment (theVictorian, with brass chandeliers suspended
hills peter out, but unexpectedly appearover the chancel like golden crowns (looking
again, at a lower level, hidden by trees).up at them through the murky light I saw that
This group of wooded hills is crossed by athey held candles, so yet another building in
confusing cats cradle of lanes between twothe twenty-first century lit by candlelight).
market towns. There is an unsettling qualitySome indifferent medieval wall paintings,
to the atmosphere in this locality, almost apreserved more for their great antiquity
creepiness - not entirely unpleasant, butrather than any artistic merit.I had walked
there are places you would not want to stayabout halfway down the length of the church,
after night has fallen. An example being thewhen my intuition told me, insistently:
village I went to last Sunday.It comprised asomething is behind you . Looking round I saw
tiny estate around an Edwardian hall, thethe upper half of the west end was filled by
village all of a piece architecturally. Thea gallery, and on this gallery I could see
village was at the base of a small valley,dazzlingPre-Raphaelite figures (highly
with a sluggish and meandering river goingcoloured with golden halos). In the gloom I
through it. Steep slopes to the sides of thethought for a moment (an unpleasant moment)
valley, very green fields, hedgerowsthe figures were alive (it was a real "Da
bordering the lanes with oak trees dottedVinci Code" moment!), until rationality
along them (the trees so swathed in ivy theygained control andI could see that they were
appear to be choking). There were a few largepainted on a huge elaborate cabinet, of
farmhouses, and a short street of cottages,immense proportions, containing the church
all built in a picturesque style (knappedorgan.Returning the key to the bungalow I
flints, redbrick quoins, high gables). Theagain stood in the rain (not so heavy) while
cottages were physically small, but had athe old lady talked about the village. The
grandiose appearance, as if they wereparish had been dominated for over a century
miniature mansions - the rooms inside theseby a dynasty of Rectors who passed the Living
cottages must be miniscule(the picturesquedown, father to son, in a sort of
life was always uncomfortable). Out in theecclesiastical monarchy. The organ was one of
fields, placed strategically for theatricalthe treasures of the area, and had been
effect, were isolated cottages, now ruinedbrought to the church during the Second World
and tumbledown, sheep looking inquisitivelyWar when the village it was previously
out of the gaping holes where the front doorslocated in had been taken over by the
would have been.Crossing the river over amilitary. There had been a long feud between
small humped-back bridge, I entered a worldthe Rectors of the church and the lords of
that was cold, damp and beautiful. There wasthe manor, and one of the more irascible
an extremely sharp bend to the road, and thenoccupants of the Hall had been buried just
the little village street with the maininside the church door so that everyone
entrance to the hall at the end (the hall wasentering the building stepped on his grave. I
a jewel of Edwardian architecture - anjotted down all her stories into my notebook,
expansive, self-satisfied sort of building,the falling spots of rain making the ink run.
built for a banker in 1905 and allowed toJust as I was leaving I asked her about a
run-down in recent years following the deathreference I had read in an obscure local
of a young heir in a car crash). To one sidehistory that the parish had once had two
of the hall gates was the church, high on amedieval churches, and that the ruins of the
bank, with a round tower and heavy buttressesother church could still be seen."Ah, but
supporting thewalls.I got the key to theit's no longer in ruins" she said
church from a nearby bungalow, standing inmysteriously. "It's been restored in the last
the rain while the elderly lady searched forfew years. The restoration has been a labour
it, then continuing to stand in the rainof love by one man. It's up on the ridge by
while she chatted about the village (I wasthe old bridlepath. It's not easy to find.
right about thehouses being damp - theYou can't drive there, you'll have to park up
closeness of the river and the canopy ofat the field gate and walk."I wrote down her
trees create a densely moist environment).directions and a rough map so that I could
The grass was very spongy in the rain, andfind the way if I ever returned to the
the path up to the church porch was slippery.village.
The lock was stiff, and I struggled for a



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