no, this is not a post about an M Night Shayamalan film, but about the small housing clusters often found in non-US countries. about one in particular, actually, the one in which i spent the first 14 years of my life, which is about six miles East of the great city of Chester, England. the name of this magical little place, Tarvin, which is home to between three and four thousand people, is thought to be derived from the Welsh word terfyn, which is itself derived from the Latin terminus, and means boundary. indeed, ruins of Roman structures have been found in Tarvin, including a rather intact set of bridges, making this a very old village, and showing that it was indeed at the edge, or boundary, of the major Roman settlement at Deva (Chester).
Jill and me at the entrance to Park Close, the street where Kim and i grew up, or at least aged somewhat from newborns. below, some of the wide open spaces surrounding Tarvin. the cows were very friendly and constitute a large part of Cheshire County's economically important agricultural sector.
most of the historical significance on our trips there, however, came from memorial rather than archaeological artifacts, and we found plenty to stimulate our reminiscences. this was the part of our trip that i had most looked forward to, and it didn't disappoint. as we trekked around our old haunts, however, Kim and i became convinced that somebody had managed to pull a real-life "Honey I shrunk the Village" on us. everything--everything--was so much smaller than we had remembered it: our old house, our street, the distances between places all seemed to have shrunk with the many years that had passed since we were last there in 1993. we made good use of that oddity though, exploring much of the village on foot in a very short time. we got to see my old primary school and junior school, the old Scout hut that is sadly no longer in use, and the glitzy destinations along the High Street, which includes all of perhaps eight shops, a Methodist church and a pub.
schools 'n things in and near Tarvin, clockwise from top left: my primary school, which would be like kindergarten and first grade in America; the apparently disused old Scout hut, which sits at the North end of Tarvins large playing fields; the junior school Kim and i went to, which serves what would be second through fifth grades in the States; and Jill saving me from the horrors of my old high school in the nearby village of Tarporley, which takes in the equivalent of grades six and up. this place looked a lot rougher than i remember it. below, views on and near Tarvin's High Street, clockwise from top left: St Andrew's Anglican Church, standing since at least the early 14th century; King Louis' fish and chip shop, a Tarvin staple of fine English cuisine. the chips were just the same as we remembered them; the Tarvin News store, or Post Office, better known to us by its former name, Anley's, or as the place to spend your pocket money on sweets (candy); and the rather forlorn-looking George and Dragon pub, closed due to a fire that local talk says may have been attempted insurance fraud...
so Tarvin is old, going back about two millenia, and small, which it looks set to stay, thanks to a clever set of greenbelt laws that should really be deployed in the US. as such the village is able to maintain a great deal of its charm and character, but it loses none of its importance in the surrounding area. St Andrew's Anglican church, which dates from at least the early 1300s, is thought to be disproportionately large for Tarvin's size, reflecting perhaps the village's Roman-born status among surrounding communities. this church is well maintained and worth a visit, with headstones in the graveyard from the 1700s and musket ball-derived pockmarks in the outer walls still visible from the mid-17th century Civil War. inside are many stained-glass windows and old relics, including a carved figure known as the Tarvin Imp, who is said to ward off evil spirits. i best remember the interior of the church from the proud time i played the lead in the school Christmas play there as a second-grader. the Anglican church is more properly known as the Church of England, so for all the Americans horrified that school events would take place in a church, the hallowed separation of church and state works a little differently over here.
the best parts of this trip to Tarvin, at least for Kim and i, were also indoors, but somewhere a bit more modern: our former next-door neighbors' house. Brian and Lorna Stott moved into number 3 when i was about four, bringing with them their son Chris who was a few months older than me and who turned out to be a fast and close friend. i vividly remember our shy and awkward first meeting by the lamppost between our houses, with our mothers urging us to share some Chewits candies. Jill and Kim's husband Todd indulged many hours of chatting and reminiscing as Brian and Lorna and their younger son, Robin, for whom Kim used to babysit, played wonderful hosts to the four of us.
thevillage people, of Tarvin, that is. some of our neighbors in Park Close, from left to right: Pam Kelly from number 5, Pat Parkin at number 2, Robin, Brian and Lorna Stott from number 3, and thejayfather and Kim, formerly of number 4. below, Chris and i pose by his front yard early one Halloween. he is dressed as a Red Devil, the mascot of the great Manchester United Football (soccer) Club, and i as some kind of punk it seems. no lame jokes in the comments box about that please.
unfortunately we were unable to see Chris on either of our visits to the Stotts, but i imagine his ears were burning pretty well both times. Brian and Lorna pulled out old photos and videos and we relived many good times. Brian had been the coach of many of the football (soccer) teams that Chris and i had played on, and Lorna had served with my mum as a founder and early leader of the Beaver Lodge (a pre-Cub Scouts boys group) when we were young lads. it struck me how closely our lives had been intertwined, and i'm glad that we are still able to maintain a friendship. certainly on our next trip to Britain, Jill and i will be making our way up to thevillage of Tarvin to see our old neighbors again. until then, my profoundest thanks to them, and a promise that it won't take another 14 years for that visit.
me on the legendary Battle Wagon bicycle that my dad restored for me, circum-pedalling the old house at 4 Park Close.
Jill and me at the entrance to Park Close, the street where Kim and i grew up, or at least aged somewhat from newborns. below, some of the wide open spaces surrounding Tarvin. the cows were very friendly and constitute a large part of Cheshire County's economically important agricultural sector.
most of the historical significance on our trips there, however, came from memorial rather than archaeological artifacts, and we found plenty to stimulate our reminiscences. this was the part of our trip that i had most looked forward to, and it didn't disappoint. as we trekked around our old haunts, however, Kim and i became convinced that somebody had managed to pull a real-life "Honey I shrunk the Village" on us. everything--everything--was so much smaller than we had remembered it: our old house, our street, the distances between places all seemed to have shrunk with the many years that had passed since we were last there in 1993. we made good use of that oddity though, exploring much of the village on foot in a very short time. we got to see my old primary school and junior school, the old Scout hut that is sadly no longer in use, and the glitzy destinations along the High Street, which includes all of perhaps eight shops, a Methodist church and a pub.
schools 'n things in and near Tarvin, clockwise from top left: my primary school, which would be like kindergarten and first grade in America; the apparently disused old Scout hut, which sits at the North end of Tarvins large playing fields; the junior school Kim and i went to, which serves what would be second through fifth grades in the States; and Jill saving me from the horrors of my old high school in the nearby village of Tarporley, which takes in the equivalent of grades six and up. this place looked a lot rougher than i remember it. below, views on and near Tarvin's High Street, clockwise from top left: St Andrew's Anglican Church, standing since at least the early 14th century; King Louis' fish and chip shop, a Tarvin staple of fine English cuisine. the chips were just the same as we remembered them; the Tarvin News store, or Post Office, better known to us by its former name, Anley's, or as the place to spend your pocket money on sweets (candy); and the rather forlorn-looking George and Dragon pub, closed due to a fire that local talk says may have been attempted insurance fraud...
so Tarvin is old, going back about two millenia, and small, which it looks set to stay, thanks to a clever set of greenbelt laws that should really be deployed in the US. as such the village is able to maintain a great deal of its charm and character, but it loses none of its importance in the surrounding area. St Andrew's Anglican church, which dates from at least the early 1300s, is thought to be disproportionately large for Tarvin's size, reflecting perhaps the village's Roman-born status among surrounding communities. this church is well maintained and worth a visit, with headstones in the graveyard from the 1700s and musket ball-derived pockmarks in the outer walls still visible from the mid-17th century Civil War. inside are many stained-glass windows and old relics, including a carved figure known as the Tarvin Imp, who is said to ward off evil spirits. i best remember the interior of the church from the proud time i played the lead in the school Christmas play there as a second-grader. the Anglican church is more properly known as the Church of England, so for all the Americans horrified that school events would take place in a church, the hallowed separation of church and state works a little differently over here.
the best parts of this trip to Tarvin, at least for Kim and i, were also indoors, but somewhere a bit more modern: our former next-door neighbors' house. Brian and Lorna Stott moved into number 3 when i was about four, bringing with them their son Chris who was a few months older than me and who turned out to be a fast and close friend. i vividly remember our shy and awkward first meeting by the lamppost between our houses, with our mothers urging us to share some Chewits candies. Jill and Kim's husband Todd indulged many hours of chatting and reminiscing as Brian and Lorna and their younger son, Robin, for whom Kim used to babysit, played wonderful hosts to the four of us.
thevillage people, of Tarvin, that is. some of our neighbors in Park Close, from left to right: Pam Kelly from number 5, Pat Parkin at number 2, Robin, Brian and Lorna Stott from number 3, and thejayfather and Kim, formerly of number 4. below, Chris and i pose by his front yard early one Halloween. he is dressed as a Red Devil, the mascot of the great Manchester United Football (soccer) Club, and i as some kind of punk it seems. no lame jokes in the comments box about that please.
unfortunately we were unable to see Chris on either of our visits to the Stotts, but i imagine his ears were burning pretty well both times. Brian and Lorna pulled out old photos and videos and we relived many good times. Brian had been the coach of many of the football (soccer) teams that Chris and i had played on, and Lorna had served with my mum as a founder and early leader of the Beaver Lodge (a pre-Cub Scouts boys group) when we were young lads. it struck me how closely our lives had been intertwined, and i'm glad that we are still able to maintain a friendship. certainly on our next trip to Britain, Jill and i will be making our way up to thevillage of Tarvin to see our old neighbors again. until then, my profoundest thanks to them, and a promise that it won't take another 14 years for that visit.
me on the legendary Battle Wagon bicycle that my dad restored for me, circum-pedalling the old house at 4 Park Close.
2 comments:
Jay, this is such a fantastic account!! I love it! What an amazing experience.
That picture of you on your training-wheeled bike with your wellies on is the cutest thing ever...
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