Kendeline Fields Farms, Claybrooke Parva, near Lutterworth, Leicestershire

It was Election Day today, the polls still not closed here as I start this. Unlike New Zealand and other countries about the world where the polls close at 7pm, here they are open until 10pm. This is not at all convenient for political tragics like us who like to be part of every blow; the results will not be even at guess-stage by the time I need to be abed. Interestingly we saw no evidence of one polling booth today during our travels and yet we learned this evening on the news, that forty seven million eligible voters had the opportunity to vote in any one of the forty thousand booths; did I hear right!?

The weather forecast was not great for today; a good deterrent for the lazy or apathetic voters, and better suited to city touring. We headed off to Leicester, just less than half an hour to the north accessed via the A5 just down the lane, then north up the M69 to the Park and Ride.

Leicester is the county town of Leicestershire, lying on the River Soar, with a population of about 342,500, about half of those white British, over 37% south Asian, over 6% of Caribbean type heritage and rest of very mixed ethnicity.

Its claim to fame is that of being home to Leicester City Football Club which miraculously clinched their first national league title in May 2016. Even I, not known for my interest in sport, could not have missed the frenetic joy that was expressed by the locals when this happened. It almost eclipsed the confirmation that the body raised from the rubble in a car park was the lost corpse of King Richard III in 2015, he who was killed at the Battle of Bosworth in August 1485.

We arrived in the city centre this morning, alighting from the bus about 9.30am when the streets were still relatively quiet. We were disappointed to discover that the Information Centre was not to open until 11am, but managed to fill the time by having printing and mailing projects dealt with, wandering through the marketplace and indulging in morning coffee at Maccas, a treat that is becoming all too frequent.

Once armed with a map, we were able to find our way to many of the attractions flagged a few days ago when I had been doing the tour planning. The rain managed to restrict itself to times we were indoors, and the wind blew enough to dry the park benches in time for a very late lunch.

We visited St Martin’s Cathedral, a much modified eleventh century structure, cluttered with fittings and decorations both old and new. It was hard to see past all the distraction to admire the fine ceilings, stained glass windows and carved porches. However we were greeted by several elderly welcomers who managed to appear beside us whenever we showed the least curiosity. It is here that Richard III’s skeletal remains were finally laid to rest, and there is much about this, facts and discussion subjects raised, interweaved with the business of the cathedral, the outreach of Christian faith. 

We were most impressed with the King Richard III Visitor Centre, located on the site of the car park where his remains were dug up. Here the story of Richard’s life, death and resurrection are told in depth in a very modern way, using 21^st century technology. I had balked a little at the admission price, £8 each for AOPs, given that we had already had several history lessons about this king and his kingship, particularly last year at York, but truly, this was well worth every GB pound.

The Guildhall also proved to be a delight; apparently one of the best preserved timber framed halls in the country, dating back 600 years. Over the years it served variously as the town hall, prison and police station.

We wandered through the Lanes and took in the medieval atmosphere, contrasting with the market and the pedestrianized retail precinct once the shoppers had arrived. We noted a heavy police presence all about and were glad of that, because this city is significant enough to be a target for the loonies currently on the rampage.

Jewry Wall was another tourist target for the day, but we did not arrive until mid-afternoon.  This is all that remains above ground level of the Roman town, the western wall of a public building alongside public baths, the foundations of which were excavated in the 1930s. It stands eighteen feet high and seventy three feet long, and interestingly the baths were an engineering disaster. The professionals miscalculated the line of the aqueduct that was to pipe the water in, and so bathers had to rely on a hand-filled cistern replenished from the nearby river, not part of the plan at all.

The museum bearing the same name sits on part of the ruin’s footprint and is a wonderful collection and commentary on the archaeological discoveries here and all around Leicestershire. It seems that the area has thrown up all sorts of treasures and if this is of interest, is certainly a must-see. Sadly, after having first visited the super-modern KRII Centre, the exhibits and interpretation all seemed rather dated.

It was already later than our normal exit time when we boarded the bus, soon arriving back at the Park and Ride car park, then made our way to a superstore for more groceries, one area of spending of which we are unstinting. Arriving back at the farm we found two other parties in, one a small motorhome carrying two humans and one outsize dog and the other a caravan, the occupants whom we have yet to see.

It could be a big night, the Dauphine cycling tour is on, the Paris Open is becoming very exciting and the election results should start rolling in about 11pm. I might have to leave the entertainment to Chris, and wait for the morning to learn the damage.

Needless to say, we did not see everything we had wanted to in Leicester, but we have decided we need to review our plans for the area, staying closer to our camp and leaving the more distant must-sees for our next camping location. We need to apply ourselves to this matter soon, but somehow I don’t think that will be tonight.