Walking towards Shap Abbey, we’re surprised to see the grey ruins but moreso I’m surprised to see the signs, the signs of tourists. We’ve been in a reverie of our own company, a group of ten, happy with our own company and the company of nature and silence and our thoughts. Now we’re delighted that the carpark is empty and we’re the only ones exploring the medieval past of tragedy. Someone else’s past from 1199, someone else’s history disestablished in 1540, someone else’s tragedy. I imagine knights on horseback, swords and a battle, but maybe the abbots lived a quiet monastic life for centuries until the dissolution of the monasteries in 1536. Finally many of the abbey buildings by domestic animals and today its all part of a working farm.
