Winchester, on Market Day.

First train to Winchester. 

Walked, along a misty River Itchen, to Kings Worthy, (on the Pilgrim's Way - the ancient route between Winchester and Canterbury) under the three ribbons of urban concrete, the A33, A34 and M4, was SO cold drinking coffee from my flask outside the delightful St Mary's Church, that I cheated and caught the bus back into Winchester.

Seeing that the mist might be clearing at some point, I scrambled up St Giles' Hill for some of these - it took nearly an hour before any colour and brightness came through. Sad to see the Cathedral so much under scaffolding and its new temporary "roof", but it did glow ethereally in the weak sunshine though...

My main task of the day was to go on a conducted tour of Winchester College. No booking required. Cost £7. Cash only. 

No photos allowed, but it is a working living school environment with boy's parents paying at least £35,000 a year to send their super-clever pipsqueaks there and so it was truly a privilege to see this huge part of Winchester that otherwise remains a total secret. Architecture is akin to the best that Hogwarts ever provided, the Chapel breathtaking, its vaulted wooden ceiling from 1390,  especially as the sunlight was flooding the colours from all of the stained glass all over everything.

Such traditions, so much history, that has shaped so much of England as we have come to know it. Real actual scholars occasionally floated past us, their flowing black gowns half a second behind them..., trying to catch up. The huge dining room, with massive planks of thick ancient wood for the long lines of tables, was preparing Friday's fish and chips and apple crumble for an imminent onslaught of hungry nippers...Surly looking painted portraits of old masters peered down from above, somewhat disapprovingly.

And in a group of just three, for over an hour, we saw and heard of secrets galore - given by the wife of a most senior master of the college, her affection for, her knowledge of the language used and how boys 'tick', wonderful! Recommended.

The best of these clever pipsqueaks become our MPs, leaders in industry etc, Winchester is akin to such as Eton and Harrow. They'd all be expected to at least to go onto Oxford. 

And, oh, I almost forgot, chanced upon a red (well, one day it might have been red) holy well, on St Giles' Hill - for Freespiral's collection! I'll email it to her personally.