My Sister's Village
My sister moved from Manchester in 1990 to Keinton as her husband was working in Shepton Mallet. We have been visiting the village at least 3 times a year, Easter, Summer and usually Christmas. Our children say they can smell Somerset - they mean fresh air, fires burning etc. Keinton has shown us a different way of life, we love to go to the local church on Christmas Eve and a walk on Christmas Day. We love the quiet and the peaceful streets and the smell of people's fires burning. We would love to move to Keinton and hope one day we will. We are really thankful that it has become such a big part of our lives. I love Keinton.
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RE: RE: My Sister's Village
Jennifer Palmer's children have it right. I left Somerset in early '49, but I can still smell the new mown hay, the cattle in the fields, and the pecurliarly special scent of horse chestnut trees in Glastonbury. There's also the hot and almost charred smell of the spuds we boys roasted in a forbidden fire behind Edgarley Hall. Edgarley is also the place where I saw my first barn owl, floating like a ghost along a summer woodline while I laboured with Caesar's Gallic vagaries in a smallish and somewhat darkened classroom. Lovely. All of it.
Comment from John Sansom on Tuesday, 10th March 2009.
RE: RE: My Sister's Village
Jennifer Palmer's children have it right. I left Somerset in early '49, but I can still smell the new mown hay, the cattle in the fields, and the pecurliarly special scent of horse chestnut trees in Glastonbury. There's also the hot and almost charred smell of the spuds we boys roasted in a forbidden fire behind Edgarley Hall. Edgarley is also the place where I saw my first barn owl, floating like a ghost along a summer woodline while I laboured with Caesar's Gallic vagaries in a smallish and somewhat darkened classroom. Lovely. All of it.
Comment from John Sansom on Tuesday, 10th March 2009.
RE: RE: My Sister's Village
Jennifer Palmer's children have it right. I left Somerset in early '49, but I can still smell the new mown hay, the cattle in the fields, and the pecurliarly special scent of horse chestnut trees in Glastonbury. There's also the hot and almost charred smell of the spuds we boys roasted in a forbidden fire behind Edgarley Hall. Edgarley is also the place where I saw my first barn owl, floating like a ghost along a summer woodline while I laboured with Caesar's Gallic vagaries in a smallish and somewhat darkened classroom. Lovely. All of it.
Comment from John Sansom on Tuesday, 10th March 2009.
RE: RE: My Sister's Village
My late grandmother lived at Keinton Mandeville in the late 1800s, her parents and siblings are buried in the graveyard there, her family name was Ridewood. I would like to know if I have any distant relatives living there now. I left Somerset many years ago, but it's always nice to remember one's roots.
Comment from Audrey O'Halloran on Sunday, 15th May 2011.