Day 2: Of Nature and Nurture

Parked across the road from Epping Forest, the very first sight that caught my eye was The View, a modern building snugly planted in between two quaint cottages. The building, however, did not look out of place. Parading glass walls and automated doors - It certainly answered my question on the interactions between History and the Present. In this case, they melded together to form one.

Ten metres away, Queen Elizabeth’s Hunting Lodge was, unfortunately, a letdown. While its design was aesthetically pleasant, I was disappointed to find that the wooden supports, marks of Tudor architecture, were painted over. I could still see the imprints of the wood beneath the coat of white paint. Why hide away a feature of such great beauty? It was definitely a pity, a sentiment I feel was shared amongst most, if not all of my friends in this tour.

Mother Nature, through her enigmatic ways, reached into us and snatched the air right out of our lungs the moment we walked round to the back of the Hunting Lodge, as we gazed upon the fields and hills that seemed to stretch endlessly towards the horizon. The breathtaking (at the risk of sounding cliché) sight was definitely not something I had seen in Singapore, where the largest patch of grass to me was the school field.  

Then we started to journey to the Epping Forest, which was across the Hunting Lodge. Starting a trek on the well-trod path, I had incredibly low expectations of the place. Growing up in the twenty-first century Singapore made me associate fun with technology. The outdoor was humid and stiflingly warm – at least that was the impression of a Singapore-grown child. What I had wanted to do then was to merely walk in, look around, make a few jokes with my friends and walk out. However, like magic, the Epping Forest gripped me and drew me closer and closer towards its heart. The entire tour group found themselves stepping off the marked paths to explore the land covered with fallen maple leaves that stamped into ground by thousands of leather soles.

Deeper and deeper into the Forest, we saw fallen trunks that were now snugly resting in the embracing arms of Nature that manifested in the form of toadstools and moss and little critters that took up residence in the bark. We clambered onto many of these fallen sentinels to pose for pictures, with the occasional yelp of surprise breaking through the excited buzz of the tour group when someone almost lost their balance.

The First Great Acorn War took place fifty metres down the trail, by one of Epping Forest’s many small likes (or big ponds) with combatants constantly added in as they were struck by stray acorns. No one won because no one really managed to hit the people they were trying to hit. 

Ripe acorns and crab apples were everywhere, as well, and we found ourselves curiously peeling open a crab apple to smell it. Though none dared to taste, we came to the consensus that it would be a very juicy mini apple, judging from its scent and the wetness on our fingers. Nevertheless, we had to move on and it was back onto the coach, on a journey towards Thaxted village, with our mind now understanding the miracles woven out of the hands of our Mother Nature.

My first thought on Thaxted was: there were no thatched roofs on sight! But when we went deeper, the design the village was known for was few and far between. Later on, we were told  by our knowledgeable tour guide, Tony, that thatched roofs were popular only in past centuries, as it kept houses cool in the summer and warm in the winter, and was cheap. The downside was that it required regular maintenance, to replace the decayed straw. However, now people with such technical skill are hard to find. As a result, it would cost forty-thousand pounds to replace a thatched roof. As such, it has become a symbol of status instead and those unable to afford the high-cost had switched to tiled roofs. The thatched roof would have been a perfect sight if not for the solar panels that robbed it from its archaic charms.

Usually, as one gets further away from the town center, the number of houses slowly fades away, but Thaxted seems to be an exception. All of a sudden we were no longer surrounded by tightly packed Victorian buildings. Instead, we were roaming on grasslands and around a single hulking windmill. Although closed off during winter, the tour group still found themselves flitting about the windmill like butterflies, taking photos of each other. We even met a new friend, a black dog named Maggie that quickly found herself surrounded by petting hands and adoring squeals.

We made a final stop at the Thaxted Parish Church, which was another charming attraction. Little did we know that t we would meet a retired vicar who greeted us as we were studying the Remembrance Day memorials. He offered us a tour. Some of us joked that it was a divine appointment! Within the church we were taught many customs there, including carrying a standard bearing a quote by Bach: “All music, has no other end and aim than the glory of God and the recreation of the soul.” and parading around the church. A more unique custom to the church would be the Morris dancing, introduced by the well-loved socialist vicar, Conrad Noel. To end the tour,  the vicar, David, asked his friend Christopher to play Holst’s most famous work, a personal favourite of Princess Diana, “Vow To Thee My Country”. This was indeed very refreshing. Life is full of surprises. 

Leaving Thaxted, the group embarked on a journey towards the last major stop of our itinerary for the day, the city of Cambridge. Immediately, my preconceived notion that Cambridge was only a single university was debunked, and we were led through winding cobbled streets towards the colleges that had been singled out for us to visit. Tony, made it a point to only bring up a college when we have passed it, highlighting to us how exclusive some of the colleges can be. 

It was unfortunate that we had come to visit on a Sunday, where facilities such as the library were closed off to public. However, although we were unable to enter the chapel of Trinity College, we were lucky enough to be able to listen to the incredibly talented choir sing, while we stood beneath the gaze of alumni such as Isaac Newton, Tennyson and Francis Bacon immortalized in the form of chiseled marble.

                                            
                                              

At Clare’s College, it was pointed out to us particularly that Henry the Eighth’s statue above the gateway had been defaced – the scepter that was supposed to be in his right hand, had been broken off and replaced by a chair leg during an extreme college prank. The manner of their learning was also made known to us, widening our eyes when we learnt that the tutors would coach their students one-to-one. With sore feet (we walked on the side paths largely similar to the foot reflexology ones in Singapore) we exchanged words lined by jealousy of their seemingly better academic situation. Whether it is another incident of the grass being greener on the other side, we would never know until we experience it.

Written by: Chong Xu Cheng, 13A02.