This is Southwell workhouse. It is the first and last of its kind, as the rest have been torn down or turned into apartments. It is divided into six sections: Able bodied men and women, old and infirm men and women, children, and the master/martron areas. The only time they mixed was Sunday worship and families could meet Sunday evening if everyone was good during the week.
This is the room where Sunday service was held, along with where the Committee met to make sure the workhouse was serving its purpose.
This is the girls' bedroom, where they were locked in at night. Everyone was locked in at night to prevent people from wandering around and getting into mischief.
These are not the actual beds, but they would have been this size and everyone slept double to allow for more room.
The cellar where the women worked preparing and storing all the food. It was cold, and aparently during the rainy winters they were stuck standing in ice cold water up to their ankles.
After we returned from the workhouse for lunch it was time to analyze the place we all currently call home: Harlaxton.
Alright, so there was no fog or snow that day, but I didn't want to reuse any pictures.
The governess had a fairly nice room. Shame there was never a governess.
This is the old library, where the professors can go have a stiff drink and talk about the students. At one point this room was used for séances by Mrs. Van der Elst because she wanted to contact her dead husband,
This is one of the state bedrooms, taken as the housekeepers were cleaning. This is why you should always carry a camera at Harlaxton.
A better picture of the Ante room.
I wonder what it says about us that our library is where the kitchens used to be.
The weekend rolled around and it was time for me to visit Stratford, the place of Shakespeare's birth. It was nice, but it lacked the magic I was expecting. Certainly the seven hours we had to do what we pleased was a little much. But we made due.
The coolest part about his birthplace was the inside, which I could not take pictures of.
My inner geek liked this little shop because it connected Shakespeare with Harry Potter.
Look, a pretty garden. Actually has very little to do with Shakespeare.
Shakespeare's grave with a sign so that people can see what he had inscribed on his tomb. "Good friend, for Jesus sake forbare, / to dig the dust enclosed here. / Blest be the man that spares these stones, / and curst be that moves my bones."
Of course no trip to Stratford is complete without watching a play. From the back row of the third level I watched a rather interesting take on Measure for Measure.
Although I still have one weekend to review before I am caught up, I shall leave this post as it is. After all, with every picture worth a thousand words this post is just slightly over 16000 words long.
JClark.
