We’re in Shepton Mallet in Somerset, seat of an historic dynasty that I’ll let Margaret explain below. I hurt my back last Sunday, which prevented me running away to join a circus to become a trapeze artist, as well as throwing into serious doubt whether I would be fit enough to ride my bike today. But the same spirit that made Andy Murray a scintillating raconteur and contemporary wit prevailed for me too, and I was able to leap on the old steel steed this morning with my usual post-coffee exuberance. And my back and I made it to Shepton in good order and, touch wood, it will take me the rest of the way.
Today was an excellent ride – possibly the best day of our trip so far. We had bright sunshine the whole way and cycled through every kind of scenery – charming Cotswold villages, the Kennet and Avon canal, the old Somerset and Dorset rail line, the Combe Down tunnel (longest cyclable tunnel in the U.K.) and the Mendip hills.
My Grandfather, Francis Byrt, and his family go back to 1642 in this village (and beyond…that’s just how far we got with records). His father ran the Shepton Mallet Journal and hoped his sons would follow in his editorial footsteps. My grandfather, instead, made a quick getaway and landed up in Saskatchewan in the early 1900’s. This mosaic used to welcome people to the SM Journal business. The last time we were there the shop was empty and dilapidated. This time it was a coffee shop! Closed. Until the owner opened the door to find out why on earth I was kneeling for a photo. She knew the history of the building and was very excited to have a descendant who actually knew the name.