Once a Catholic?

Saturday's plan was to walk to Mrs Leftfoot’s house then down through Jesmond Dene to Pet's Corner and the icecream van, across the Ouseburn and up to the Armstrong Bridge to have a look at the monthly artisan Food Market.  I've little interest in the Food Market but it's good to have a target.  .

Years of getting up to Dance at Dawn on Town Moor mean both of us are up and about quite early on May Day, and I arrived at Leftfoot Lodge to find her waiting and chatting in a socially distanced manner with her neighbour across the road.  We set off down Jesmond Park West which took us to the East End of Armstrong Bridge.  Like the Quayside Market, Armstong Bridge is operating sanitation stations and a one way system; clockwise, towards town along the stalls from East to West and towards the coast the other way.  So we were on the correct side to walk over and view the stalls.   

I was persuaded to buy a pack of “Bohemian Raspberry” tea simply because of the name.

Once across the Bridge we descended into the Dene and crossed the burn to Pets Corner.  The ice-cream van was there but unmanned, so we turned upstream towards the waterfalls.  Mrs Leftfoot spotted a Grey Wagtail in the Ouseburn then said 

“Do you fancy going up to St Mary’s Chapel?”

Once upon a time Jesmond (or Jesus’ mound) was a place of pilgrimage and 

St Mary’s Chapel is the remains of the 12^th century church which supposedly held a relic of Our Lady.  We were near the bridge to the path up to the Chapel so over and up we went, climbing through and admiring the ancient trees.  For such a historically significant site what’s left appears quite small to modern eyes; a roofless L shape of dressed sandstone.  Some stained glass has been put in one of the windows and a white cross painted over another.  Poignant votive offerings of flowers, notes and trinkets, are tucked away in little niches.

After we’d stood and thought awhile Mrs Leftfoot asked

“Have you ever been to the Well?”

Well?   

I didn’t even know there was a well?   

And I’ve been up here since 1975 (bar one year).

She was delighted to discover something I didn’t know about, and led me up the little lane between posh Victorian villa back gardens to an iron gate.  A set of steep stone steps twist down into a dell where a spring rises in a grotto, spills over into a stone lined pond and drains away through a culvert down to the Ouseburn. 

It is surrounded by tall trees so is dark and silent, except for birdsong. 

Once again votive offerings, statuettes of the Blessed Virgin Mary and rosary beads, have been left.   

Sitting on the wall looking into the well I resisted the urge to find something in my bag to leave.

We came back out into the sunlight, had a little walk around Jesmond, back to the Dene, down to the Ouseburn and back up by steep paths and steps to the top of the Eastern edge.  We found a bench and sat, looking over through the tops of the trees, chatting for quite some time; Mrs Leftfoot about the nuns who educated and inspire her, both of us about family.

Then up to Paddy Freemans boating pond where we were caught in a sudden fierce hailstorm (good thing I had my umbrella).  The ducklings, which were tiny cotton wool balls when we saw them last month, are now the size of satsuma oranges.  This is where our paths parted and I walked home via the Waggonway.

Lying in bed that night, thinking about the day, I remembered that May is the month the Roman Catholic Church makes special devotions to Our Lady The BlessedVirgin Mary.  It occurred to me that Mrs Leftfoot and I, both lapsed, had accidentally made a May Day pilgrimage.

It also occurred to me that many holy wells were originally sites of pagan religion that the Christian church took over, putting the Virgin Mary in the place of far more ancient goddesses.  So perhaps it wasn’t such a big step from Dancing at Dawn to visiting a holy well.