C/O
A Parish Invitation
England

Date As Postmarked

Dear Traveller,

I am delighted to be writing you this letter of introduction. I am sure that you will find it of use if you wish to continue your journey.

Your hostess is Lady Adena; she adores company and will take great care of you. She is a font of miscellaneous information, so look out for her a-côté, (remarks or asides) and the Anneau de Intérêt - links of interest, she has discovered for you.

What can I tell you of this place you are about to enter? I have been here many times and have always felt at home. Strangers are most welcome and I am sure that you will be no exception.

The village of Kelloe is small and not picturesque at first glance, but once you step out of the shadow of the dwellings there are riches to explore.

To begin with I was unsure of my way, but I gave myself over to whimsy and followed the cry of the Gulls on the lightly salted air and found myself venturing along a walkway called 'The Hall'.

It is almost like an avenue with hedgerows and fields to frame it from view and a lovely old tree that beckons you onward. Its peaceful countenance is by now way affected by the mumble of traffic and the voices of the village just out of sight.

It is a lazy walk in good weather meant for the savouring of the sight and smell of the dawning countryside.

Soon however to my right, a forest confronted me. The trees are not thick, but they are dense and 'The Orchard' floor is covered with Ivy and moss as the trees dim the daylight to delicious shadows.

I do not mind admitting - as I know it will go no further - that while I could not resist entering the dilapidated orchard, I felt the chill of ghostly rumour at my back.

Old timers claim a restless spirit wanders here. Where she comes from I do not know, but there is talk of a Victorian servant girl and the name commonly given to this errant entity is 'The Blue Lady'. Pray do not be alarmed Dear Traveller, there are no stories of her harming the likes of you and me!

Perhaps the ghost has a more modern origin. Prisoners of the Second World War were housed nearby in the crumbling Coxhoe Hall, but I do not think that any of them died. It is just as well. A Victorian ghost is much more romantic, don't you think?

I have played with 'The Orchard' and braved one ghost, only to find myself confronted with another - the area where Coxhoe Hall once stood. It is a melancholy site with only a merge ruin to hint that once a great house thrived here.

I have seen pictures and it was a fine prospect indeed, as I am sure you will agree when you see the enclosed photographs.

The Hall was built on the site in 1725 and guess which famous personage resided here as a child - Elizabeth Barrett Browning, the Victorian poetess!

Even though her stay was brief, I am sure that she would have been as saddened as we at the demise of this noble house.

Let us leave this place. I feel that the passage of time rides heavy here and I would like to return to the village and dare another direction before darkness steals my adventurous spirit!

It is advantageous for you that I am feeling bold, for my ventures have once again uncovered a hidden gem.

I followed the road through the village further and further down, or so it seemed! I passed the usual village pubs, 'The Greyhound', 'The Working Man's Club' and down past the small school and 'The Davy Lamp' no doubt named for the coal miners.

Further I boldly trekked, never straying from the straight and narrow, enjoying the day and I must admit, exaggerating the length of my journey!

I finally found myself looking at the remains of a graveyard; it is no more than a small field now, as the main graveyard has moved further back.

Standing alone in the grass near the roadside is a memorial to an 1800's mining disaster at Trimdon Grange.

Quiet blanketed around me as I thought of the lives lost so long ago and I will admit that I jumped at the screeching of a bird nearby!

A mine should not be the last resting place of working men. Their last view of this world should not be of coal dusted darkness closing in.

And although the larger, more prominent War Memorial, near the top of the village is as brave and sad, it is given Poppies once a year to mark the peace and has more company of casual strangers, more so than my lonely miners epitaph.

I say a silent 'adieu' to remembrance and am delighted by the sight of a tower to my right. It is behind a wall, but the gates are open and I feel compelled to investigate. It is here that my hidden gem crouches in a small valley.

A church, almost in miniature, waits serenely to be noticed at the bottom of the bank. It is called St Helen's and cements the areas relationship with the Barrett family.

Elizabeth and her older brother were both christened here. I have seen the register bearing exotic proof of their existence, stating as it does Mr Barrett's former home as Jamaica!

Inside the church is the real treat. The stained glass windows are vibrant and the ancient voice of St Helens cross echoes throughout the building. The stone carvings easily discernable even today!

The small bell tower is the only original part of the 12th Century church left, but the rest of the building is by no means the unwelcome relative! The whole fits together almost seamlessly.

The very situation is charming and easily lends the imagination to a past age where perhaps the Barrett family rode to church in their carriage of a Sunday morning.

Of course, most of the windows would invariably have told a different tale then. The beautiful stained glass, that survives today, was for the most part donated by the Woods family in remembrance. They lived in Coxhoe Hall long after the Barrett family were gone and before it was left to prisoners of war and desolate ruin.

What else can I tell you that will aid you in your journey? Oh, do not forget to view the exquisite craftsmanship of the woodwork in St Helen's, especially the altar with it's little mouse, (on the left), that is the carpenter's signature. You will have to peek under the altar cloth to see it!

I feel that I have delayed you longer than I should, so I will not tell you of the nature reserve with it's rare orchids and butterflies or that the village is only a few miles away from the majestic Cathedral City of Durham and it's Castle. Or of the towering Angel of the North that guards the road to Newcastle, a silent sentinel against the sky!

You are surrounded on all sides by history both ancient and modern! Do not let it intimidate or repel you, all I ask is that you pause in your journey and take a step back in time...