|The Market Place|
I got out of the shower feeling refreshed. Its Bank Holiday Monday and I have another two days off after this. Carole is pottering about the garden and I know she likes a little trip out to one of the various hamlets or towns. We often drive to Norfolk along the coastal roads. However Lincolnshire and Huntingdon are also right on the door step.
I asked her where she would like to go, and she replied her usual. "I don't know."
That means she wants me to make a choice, but she definitely wants to have a drive out somewhere. No problem. I know she has been singing the praises of Saint Ives. Its a market town with a river running through it and is only about thirty minuets drive along country roads.
Off we set, with some aplomb, towards the shire of Huntingdon within Cambridgeshire as is our Fenlands. Along the way we chatted about this and that and in no time at all we were entering the old town of Saint Ives.
I was surprised to see the market stools out in great force, though most of the shops were closed for the Bank Holiday. Still it was bustling and we had a look around and bought a few bits and bobs.
As we came out of the market place and went along the side streets we came to the picturesque river and its old stone bridge. What a pleasant little hamlet Saint Ives is. We had an enjoyable few hours wandering about the place before driving back to our own little Fenland hamlet of March. Here we went out and had a few beers in a pub.
|The bridge today|
|How it was in the late 17th and early 18th Centuary|
|Gardens with a view|
|The old stone bridge arches look great|
|Much of the hamlet has the old world feel|
|Saint Ivers strolling home from market|
|An old office upon the bridge|
|House by the bridge|
|The tea rooms by the river|
|The river was once bustling but is more modest today|
|The place is full of old nooks and crannies|
|Built in 1502 this pub has seen a few customers over its 514 years of trade.|
|Away from the stool market|
|Towards the stools|
|Some of the back streets|
|The river moving out of the town|
|Swans and Gulls scrounging for scraps|