Category Archives: Travel

Dallying in Derbyshire 1

by thehistoryinterpreter

Preparing to leave our caravan site in the Lakes, the robin called to bid us farewell, bringing some of his friends, including a nuthatch. We had an uneventful drive south-eastward to Buxton. The landscape is notably different on the Peak District, with hills, open fields and mellow stone.

The Derbyshire site was adjacent to a country park so, once settled, we walked up to Solomon’s Temple, so named for local landowner Solomon Mycock and built in 1894 to replace a former building that was thought to have been commissioned by the Duke of Devonshire, to provide employment for unemployed lime workers in the 1820s. Archaeological finds suggest that this was the site of a Bronze Age burial mound, as artefacts dating from c. 3500 BCE have been found.

We had an early evening meal and left for Cromford where we had booked to see an open-air play. In fact we’d altered our holiday to arrive earlier in Buxton so we could do this. On arrival everything seemed shut and we could see no sign of an imminent performance. Having wandered around for half an hour and asked several people, I manage to find some mobile signal, rare since leaving home and checked the website to discover that the performance had been cancelled. As the play was about the gunpowder plot, I could understand that, in the aftermath of the Queen’s death, it might not be the most tactful time for a performance about trying to blow up a monarch but apparently the decision to cancel was only taken six days later. I was decidedly annoyed that no one seemed to think that it was a good idea to email those who had booked, to save them a round trip of forty miles, or indeed to put a notice of the cancellation on the firmly locked doors but hey ho. After five emails our not inconsequential entrance money was refunded.

The next day we drove to Hope Valley and along Winnats Pass, with its impressive views across to Mam Tor, the site of a Hill Fort. The Hope Valley is the boundary between the millstone grit of the  ‘Dark Peak’ and the differing geology of the ‘White Peak’, an area of carboniferous limestone, with its elaborate cave system. Our destination was Castleton and Peveril Castle, one of many castles established after the conquest in the Forest of the Peak to establish Norman control. Originally called the Castle of the High Peak, the castle was later named for William Peveril, an early keeper of the royal forest. The castle’s purpose was more administrative than defensive, being a base for the Keepers of the Forest of the Peak from the eleventh to sixteenth centuries. Their role was to ensure that the punitive Forest Laws were adhered to; fines were paid and rents were collected. The value of the area to the crown lay in its use as a royal hunting ground and also the local lead and silver mines. Castleton grew up in the late twelfth century, its houses and mills providing an income for the castle’s estate. It was a stop on the packhorse route.

Although the castle was owned by the monarch or a member of the royal family, they rarely visited. Henry III, who was almost certainly responsible for constructing the New Hall at Peveril, only stayed once. Even after the building fell into disrepair, the castle continued to be used as a courthouse, prison and the local pound until the sixteenth century, after which much of the castle was demolished and the dressed building stone was plundered.

We looked at various gift shops selling the local Blue John or Fluorspar and read about John Tym’s Blue John workshop. We had excellent cakes and drinks in Dolly’s tea room, really good value too and highly recommended. Allegedly this premises, in a former incarnation, was billed the worst café in the country; definitely not the case now. A Buxton shopping trip yielded not only food but the adaptor required to download my photographs.

On Martha’s recommendation, we headed off to Crich Tramway Village without too much trouble despite a road closure. This haven for preserved trams was opened in 1959 after the former limestone quarry closed. This attraction is well presented and a credit to the largely volunteer workforce. The enthusiastic Ken showed us round. A random collection of items of architectural heritage have found their way on site but blend together. These include what remained of the Derby Assembly Rooms, which was built in 1765 and caught fire in 1963. Its brick by brick demolition and re-erection took three years. There are two 1897 gas lamps, from Ashton-under-Lyne, originally cast to commemorate Queen Victoria’s diamond jubilee. The gates came from Marylebone station, there’s a tramway shelter from Matlock and a Hendon police phone box. The Red Lion pub from Stoke on Trent was particularly notable, as was one of the last twenty ‘Penfold’ hexagonal Victorian post boxes in the country. One of the more bizarre artefacts was the ventilation pipe from an underground Birmingham toilet.

We road on two trams, one a 1928 from Porto, Portugal. There were many more trams to view and a huge exhibition area. We took our second tram on a one way journey so we could walk back through the woods and view the wooden sculpture trail. We could see the Sherwood Foresters’ War Memorial, which marks the highest point in Derbyshire. There is a view of eight counties from here but access is restricted at the moment so we couldn’t walk up to it. The road closure was a little more impactful on our return journey but we made it back without too much of a detour.

Lake District Lingerings Part 2

by thehistoryinterpreter

We made a return visit to Stott Park Bobbin Mill, a fascinating insight into the industrial heritage of the area. The factory was built in 1835 to provide bobbins for the Lancashire cotton industry and was ideally situated for water power and the necessary supply of birch, sycamore and ash. We arrived just in time for a guided tour by Ann. The mill produced bobbins in 260 different styles. Many of the workforce were young boys for the Ulverston workhouse. There was little regard for health and safety. Apart from the dust from the sawdust and shavings, the unguarded machinery would have been a hazard for any workers whose concentration lapsed; circular saws were driven at 3000 rpm. The workshops were well ventilated to reduce fire risks but this made them very cold. Shavings might be waist high to help keep the workers warm but this was of course a fire hazard. Nineteenth century workers were on piecework and were paid by the gross. The tally man would mark their sticks when each gross was completed.

Many workers were laid off when the supply of cotton was disrupted during the American Civil War in the 1860s and the ensuing ‘Lancashire Cotton Famine’ led to a drop in the demand for bobbins. About 1870, W A Fell introduced a semi-automatic boring machine, which simplified the task of boring holes in the bobbins, reducing it to loading new blocks and removing bored bobbins. In 1880, a steam engine replaced the water mill as a source of power. Once plastic began to replace wood the mill went into decline and it finally closed in 1971.

Rain stopped play as regards walking but we did stop off at the Esthwaite Water Café for some very acceptable cake and decent sized mugs of tea and coffee, which we consumed overlooking the lake.

We came home to the news of the Queen’s death.

The weather forecast was uncertain, so we decided on an early walk, whilst it was dry and headed anti-clockwise around the lake for a mile or so and then returned in order to head off to Acorn Bank, an interesting National Trust property. Acorn Bank is situated at Temple Sowerby, which takes its name from its association with the Knights Templar, who were gifted the manor by Henry II in 1185. The next owners, in the mid-fourteenth century, were the Knights of the Hospital of St. John. After the dissolution of the monasteries, Acorn Bank was in the hands Thomas Dalston and his descendants for almost four hundred years. The writer Dorothy Una Ratcliffe purchased Acorn Bank in 1934 and was it given to the National Trust in 1950. The house was tenanted until the 1990s and spent time as a nursing home.

Parts of the current house are sixteenth century but there were later alterations and the façade is eighteenth century.  It is the gardens and orchards that are notable at Acorn Bank. The orchards are home to over a hundred varieties of apple, some of which were grown in cordons, in other words, trained diagonally to save space. This year’s crop looked to be prolific. Here also is the largest herb garden in National Trust ownership. There were bee hives to aid pollination and we spotted a large number of red admiral butterflies feasting on fallen plums. Although the surrounding woodland, with its streams and ponds, are a haven for wildlife, the fauna was, as so often on our holidays, conspicuous by its absence. Within the woods are the remains of gypsum mines. This was produced on the estate from 1880-1938 and sold as fertiliser or for plaster. We also walked down to the watermill.

To make up for the lack of wildlife at Acorn Bank, the red squirrels came out to play once back on the site but hasty scampering made them difficult to photograph. They seem to make a habit of opening the top of one of the bird boxes to investigate the contents. The late afternoon was spent watching the accession speech of Charles III.

We set off early to go to Hill Top, a seventeenth century cottage owned by Beatrix Potter from 1905 but used as a writing retreat, rather than her home. She was responsible for extending the property but no mains water or sanitation system was installed until 1928, when her nephew came to live at Hill Top. It was fascinating to see some of Beatrix Potter’s books lying open to show illustrations that mirrored the part of the house or garden that we were in. A bed was covered by a reproduction of the wedding quilt made for her parents in 1863; the original quilt is in the V & A. The main living room had a rather strange wallpapered ceiling . Some knowledgeable guides told us the story of the house and Beatrix’s life. She was constrained by the mores of her time and regretted being known for ‘bunny books’ rather than her other accomplishments, such as botanical drawings. The first book she wrote after her marriage is now seen as a treatise in support of women’s suffrage and was turned down by Warne’s, her publishers. Her published works after this date tended to be re-presentations of earlier works. The cottage garden was beautiful and you expected to spot Peter Rabbit and friends hiding in the foliage.

On the way home, we stopped off to view the standing stones at Castlerigg, visited by William and Dorothy Wordsworth in 1799. We also called in at Keswick for some food. Finally, a short walk to the lake in the afternoon.

We drove out to St. Bees, which was an opportunity to see the sea but on the whole not very inspiring. We climbed the cliffs and rewarded ourselves with an ice cream. We returned via Threlkeld Mining Museum. The quarry opened in the 1870s to provide ballast for the newly opened Penrith-Keswick line and closed in 1982. There were plenty of construction vehicles in varying states of decay, some of which are being restored. We had mistimed our arrival to miss the 1pm train ride, so waited for the 3pm trip before heading home as the rain began. This is an interesting museum, which is clearly a hobby for construction vehicle enthusiasts. Don’t expect professional presentation of exhibits but worth a visit.

It was rainy on our last day in the Lakes, so we went for a drive towards Bassenthwaite. We had planned to go to the post office in Keswick but missed the turning and couldn’t find the free parking. When we finally found it there was no space, so we returned to the van and tried again later with more success. It finally stopped raining in the late afternoon so we could walk by the lake without getting soaked.

Amidst all this touristy activity working/volunteering life went on. Conducting a Zoom meeting was not without difficulty. Great signal in the hotspot but I couldn’t face standing up and waving my arms about for two hours to keep the light on in the hut. Plan B was driving the car to beside the hut and sitting in the car. Thankfully it was a new laptop so had plenty of battery. Of course nights are drawing in so by the middle of the meeting, not wanting to drain the car battery by using the courtesy light, I was in the dark in any case!

Lake District Lingerings Part 1

by thehistoryinterpreter

We’ve been back from our latest excursion for several days but the ‘interesting’ connectivity issues whilst away meant that I am posting news of these adventures retrospectively. So cast your mind back a few weeks, we are now in early September )although in my head we have surely only just got to June). Day one, other commitments meant that we left home at lunchtime and had an uneventful run to our ‘breaking the journey’ stop in Tewkesbury. Van pitched, we took a short walk into town to acquire some very tasty fish and chips. Tewkesbury makes the most of its heritage. There are several historic buildings and plaques explaining their significance.  Heraldic banners along the main street also give a unique flavour.

As it was raining the next day, we forewent another walk round Tewkesbury and drove straight to Keswick amidst delays on the M6, due to an overturned lorry. The satnav was counter-intuitive but we didn’t get lost. The campsite at Borrowdale is in a beautiful wooded setting near Cat Bells and a short walk from Lake Derwentwater, where Swallows and Amazons and Star Wars were filmed. Access to the site is a little challenging but nothing that fifty years’ experience of towing caravans couldn’t handle. A friendly robin greeted us and even popped in the van to say hello. As a bonus, the sun came out, allowing us to walk round the lake. We passed a shed that is home to ‘Teddy in the Window’, who collects money for charity. The outside of the shed is decorated with letters and postcards to Teddy from all over the world. The downside of the site is that wifi access is limited. To be fair, the hot spot includes the information shed, which is one up on huddling under a tree. It does however necessitate standing up and moving continually, as the light in the hut works on a sensor. With two evening meetings due this week, at least for as long as my battery lasts, I anticipated an interesting time.

On our first full day in the Lakes, we set off for Allen Bank in Grasmere. I had neglected to note the postcode and had no phone signal but the helpful site warden found it for me, saving me repairing to the shed hotspot. There is blue badge parking only at Allen Bank, so we parked in Grasmere Village and walked up to the house. It was built in 1805, an era when many industrialists from Manchester and Liverpool were settling in the Lake District. This house was rented to Wordsworth for three years. There is a definite twist to this National Trust property, which suffered from fire damage. It is set up for interaction, with opportunities to sit and read, borrow an art pack and draw, play board games, or just admire the impressive views. An added touch is the provision of explorer rucksacks that children can borrow as they explore the grounds. Some of the fire damaged walls have been painted with interesting murals by a local artist. A nearby, detached billiard room, which resembles a chapel, complete with stained glass, is being renovated and is due to open on Friday. It doesn’t take long to view the house but it is definitely worth investigating the surrounding gardens and woodland. The gardens have been designed with biodiversity in mind and Herdwick Fleeces are used as mulch. There is an uphill walk through the woods to a viewpoint. This did involve climbing wet granite steps, made additionally slippery by fallen leaves but we survived. This despite my not having my non-varifocal glasses with me, making clambering more difficult, as I am unable to see my feet clearly.

Next, a look round Grasmere and a stop to consume cake and a drink. I was tempted by the many sales in the outdoor clothing outlets and acquired what is allegedly a waterproof jacket with a 70% discount. Just as well as I would never spend £90 on a jacket. It will be interesting to see if the claims of breathability and waterproofing are valid.

We stopped off in Keswick on the way home. This was partly to try to purchase an SD card to USB convertor to download my photographs as the new laptop is lacking an SD card slot. In both Grasmere and Keswick there are plenty of cafes, upmarket tourist shops and outdoor clothing outlets but a distinct lack of a camera or computer shop. We managed to secure roadside parking in Keswick and having drawn a blank amongst the shops, went down to the lake. There were people feeding the geese and ducks, providing photographing opportunities. Apparently the views of the lake were revealed in 1747 when the Crow Bank oak plantation was felled. From then on Keswick became a magnet for artists, writers and travellers.

And the Holiday Ends

by thehistoryinterpreter

A chance remark from fellow tourists who we encountered at the Vale of Avalon induced us to visit a tourist attraction that we have to pay for. We duly set of for the Hidden Valley, near Launceston. Despite many trips to Cornwall, this was a new one on us. It is a glorified, mostly outdoor, escape room and there were plenty of earnest adults taking it extremely seriously. I am not sure we are the target demographic but it was great fun, even though the puzzles were a bit beyond us. We started indoors in the Forbidden Mansion where the puzzle involved quick reactions and flashing lights. The tricky part was working out exactly what you were supposed to do. We didn’t realise that we were only going to get one attempt at this. In fact, we were entitled to a card each but had gone for sharing. I think I accomplished three of the tasks. There were also twenty things to spot as you went round. These were well hidden and it took us two circuits to get nineteen of them.

Outside next and the beech maze was a fail; we ended up coming out the way we went in. We decided we’d set the bar low and followed the rope trail to find ten labels, each with a number to add and a letter to create an anagram to unscramble; an activity that was aimed at the pre-school children. Even this took two attempts and I failed to identify some of the more modern cartoon characters. We kept encountering the same families looking equally confused. The twenty-something childfree couples rushed round, heads-down doing hugely complicated things, aided by phone apps, which I think were ‘cheats’, on the ‘Big Blimp’ challenge. We did have a go at ‘Little Blimp’, where the puzzles were at least intelligible and achieved 13/15 of these.

This was all set in very attractive and well maintained grounds and we were surprised to find that the attraction had been open since the 1990s, as it didn’t look in the least bit tired. There was the opportunity to ride on a mini-train but this was very popular so we allowed smaller persons to take up the few available seats. There was also a model train running round part of the gardens. The site is still being developed and an impressive looking adventure playground-type feature was being constructed, with plans for this to be open by the summer. Despite the feeling of total inadequacy that the visit engendered, we had an enjoyable day.

We drove to Padstow, now commercialised by the Rick Stein effect. It is still a working harbour, so boats for the fisherman of my acquaintance to look at. We walked up the hill towards the lower beach. Deciding not to pay inflated Padstow refreshment prices, we repaired to a garden centre that we’d spotted on the way, intending to have a drink. They were still serving carvery lunches and although they were quite willing for us just to have a drink, we could hardly pass up the opportunity. So a lovely, expansive carvery lunch for only twice what it would have cost to have a coffee and cake in Padstow. Sizeable desserts were on offer too. Consuming massive portions of Eton Mess, on top of a carvery where you could have as much veg as you liked is always one of those seems like a good idea at the time things and it was lovely but it did mean that we didn’t want to do much afterwards.

So the end of the holiday and we managed to only get wet once – result! Slightly fuzzy photo as the light was poor.

Cornish Castles

by thehistoryinterpreter

If you ever decide to visit Launceston Castle, there are a few things to be aware of. The English Heritage website says you don’t need to book, we didn’t, that wasn’t a problem. The site also says that booking ‘does not guarantee a car parking space’. This is on a webpage headed ‘Launceston Castle’. If you saw this, dear reader, would you or would you not assume that there was a car park for the castle? Hindsight, which as we all know is a wonderful thing, reveals that this is generic wording and that, contrary to popular belief, there is no castle car park but before we arrived at this momentous revelation, we fruitlessly tried to follow the sat-nav to what we fondly believed would be the car park. With shades of Fowey, this involved some narrowish twisting and turning and one-way systems and not a little going round in circles as we missed what appeared to be the vital turning. ‘It is no through road’, observes the trusty chauffeur’. ‘Well’, says I, ‘if it leads to a car park, it will be.’ Except it didn’t lead to a car park. Cue the need for a great deal of skilful reversing then more circuitous routes round Launceston to find an actual carpark. Then of course it was find the castle time. If you’ve ever been to Launceston, the castle is on a massive hill, looming over the town. You’d think it would be visible from anywhere. Another rash assumption. We parked the car began to walk towards the castle and then totally lost sight of it.

After all this, the castle needed to be good to make it worthwhile. To be honest, as castles go, it was a little underwhelming. It consists of a round stone tower on top of a very steep mound. The stone tower inside a shell keep was built by Richard, Earl of Cornwall, or rather by hapless local peasants, for Richard Earl of Cornwall, in the thirteenth century. I am also not sure what a great idea it was to climb up an extremely steep hill to look at the, albeit impressive, views from a great height, when I am not even keen on standing on a chair. I made it up and I made it down nonetheless.

A quick sit in the sun and then we strolled along the coastal path towards Boscastle, which was less steep and less wet than our foray in the opposite direction. There were also a pair of stonechats posing almost long enough for the camera.

The next day we drove to nearby Tintagel and walked up to the castle. They have built a notorious bridge since our last visit but I decide that could be a bridge (ha) too far so we ask to approach the castle by an alternative route. This alternative appeared to involve going in the official exit and at each stage of the contra-flow we had to explain to staff why I am too much of a woose to cross the bridge. Actually having seen it in the flesh, I think it would have been wide enough for me to walk across without being able to see the dizzying depths below, so perhaps another time I might brave it. The alternative is no walk in the park either, with precarious steps up the side of the wind-blown cliffs.

The castle was another possession of Richard, the thirteenth century Earl of Cornwall but is also the site of remains of much older dwellings. It is likely that there was a settlement here more than 1500 years ago. Until the twentieth century, Tintagel referred to the castle only and the hamlet was called Trevena, meaning ‘farmstead on the hillside’. It was Tennyson who drew attention to the castle, with its Arthurian associations and it became a focus for visitors. Having sampled yet more ice cream, honeycomb this time, we struggled through the wind, down the hill and then back up to the village.

We had limited time in the car park but managed to fit in a quick trip to Tintagel Old Post Office as well. Although this was a little rushed, it turns out that this was just the amount of time allowed to us before it began to rain. The Post Office was the previous commercial use for this six hundred year old former farmhouse. Originally a through-passage, single-story dwelling, there were modifications in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and there is a lovely collection of samplers on the wall, as well as an attractive cottage garden.

More Belated Cornish News

by thehistoryinterpreter

Sorry to leave you in Cornish limbo but the wifi went from bad to ridiculous and the chances of posting were less than. So, from the comfort of my home wifi, here is what happened next.

We waited for the rain to pass over and then drove in to Portreath. The town looked a bit dilapidated and seemed to have escaped the overwhelming second-home incursion of other coastal communities. There is an interesting industrial heritage. Copper was exported from the harbour and Welsh coal was brought in. It was also centre for shipbuilding. A tramway was constructed in 1809. After a ‘bracing’ walk across the headland, we drove back to Chapel Porth. More obligatory ice cream sampling, chocolate fudge for me and a Chapel Porth speciality ‘Hedgehog’ for my companion. No small mammals are harmed in the construction of this ice cream. It includes vanilla ice cream, clotted cream and plenty of nuts and proves quite difficult to consume. Hedgehogs dispatched, we stroll along the beach past numerous caves, interesting rock formations and thousands of mussels clinging to the rocks.

The next day was the day for moving sites and heading back towards home. It was only about an hour’s drive to the site near Tintagel. In theory, there should have been more lovely views through the driving rain. Having set up the van we took advantage of the sun coming out to admire said views and set off to walk a short way along the coastal path which runs by the site. The wind was on the invigorating side and the path typically ‘undulating’ aka lots of steep clambering up and down. Not shingle this time just slate. ‘Good job it isn’t raining or this would be very slippery’, I occasioned to remark. One thing with invigorating wind is that it blows the clouds away swiftly. Sadly, it also works in reverse and twenty minutes into the walk we were caught by lashing rain. I wasn’t wrong about the slippery slate. We were now clinging to ice-like narrow ledges on the side of towering cliffs, with a sheer drop to one side, in a howling gale. I normally have issues with walking in varifocals on rough ground. I need not have bothered about the usual difficultly, judging how steep steps are, as the rain meant I couldn’t see the steps anyway. Add to that a no-longer waterproof poncho flapping all over the place and we decided we needed to squelch back to the van. Fun it was not. We could not have been wetter if we’d jumped in a swimming pool.

Still feeling the after-effects of the previous day’s expedition, we opted for a gentler day. Annoyingly, two of the places we wanted to go were temporarily closed so we chose the nearby Vale of Avalon at the gruesomely named Slaughter Bridge, held out to be the site of King Arthur’s last battle against Mordred; well, spearheads have been found locally. Allegedly, Arthur was the first leader in Western Britain to use cavalry, which gave him an advantage over the Saxons. It is also one of the longest-standing tourist attractions in the country, as John Leland visited in 1534. Another battle is record in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle as having taken place here in 823, when the Saxons, led by Egbert, beat the Celts, many of whom fled to Brittany.

We weren’t sure what to expect but for the princely sum of £3 for ancient types, it seemed a bargain. This was a lovely wooded site that exploits the local Arthurian connections. It is also a site of both archaeological and special scientific interest. It did look a little tired in places but definitely worth a visit and the refreshments were highly recommended with coffee in sensible shaped cups; why is coffee always served in ridiculous wide cups so that it loses its heat quickly? ‘A coffee’ was a cafetiere that filled the cup three times and ‘a tea’ was a large pot containing four cups; the cake was good too.

We tied a thread to the cloughtie (rag) tree and made a wish. We were able to see the remains of the thirteenth century longhouse, part of the abandoned Melorn Village, which has been excavated, along with a cider press that may be a similar age. There were some trees growing though the decking, reminiscent of New Zealand. Lady Charlotte Falmouth, whose dower house was neighbouring Worthyvale Manor, laid out a garden here in the 1740s and this has been reconstructed, although I think Lady F is sorely in need of a gardener, as it was very overgrown. The nine foot long, moss-covered, ‘Arthur’s stone’ can be viewed from above; it has been dated to 540. It is just possible to see signs of the inscription, which is in Latin. There are several interpretations of what the inscription, written in an Irish runic script known as Ogham, says. One interpretation is, ‘Latinus lies here, the son of Magarius’. Others interpret the end to read Mag Uri or Great Arthur.

Arthur’s Stone

We followed this trip up with a walk round Boscastle. The evening was spent trying to get the allegedly half-decent wifi, which so wasn’t, to allow me to start a meeting and then remain in it! Probably not helped by the site being full and everyone trying to stream the evening’s soap operas. Mission was just about accomplished.

Continuing the Cornish Adventures

by thehistoryinterpreter

We needed to return home for the day and thought it was about time we refuelled the car. The chauffeur of my acquaintance had neglected to bring his wallet. I believe that a newly installed app on my phone might have been a satisfactory substitute but needless to say, despite my increasing proficiency with the phone over the past weeks (to the extent that I have exceeded my, albeit meagre, data allowance), this was a step too far. Fear not, my bank card is in the rucksack. Ah that would not be the rucksack we have with us but the one that is ……. in the caravan. Fortunately, we made it home and were able to retrieve alternative means of paying. Then it was back to the van. The A30 on a Friday rush hour is never a great idea, so the return journey was a little on the slow side but we were back in time for the mobile fish and chip van’s visit to the site and even managed a walk out to Wheal Coates to try to counteract the ill effects of said fish and chips, or in my case, fishcake and chips, in the evening.

Wheal Coates

Further westward the following day and a trip to Newlyn. We overshot the entrance to the car park and before we had a chance to turn round saw several parked cars with a space for us. We looked carefully for notices that said that parking was restricted, or for permits in the windows of the other cars. A nearby gardener assured us that parking there was fine. I was a little less confident as this lay-by appeared to be a bus stop. Could the other half a dozen cars and the gardener be wrong? I left the decision to the car’s owner and we stayed put. A quick trip to a nearby boatyard so the fisherman of my acquaintance could chat boats, then we walked on to Mousehole where I had the drippiest ice cream cone I have ever encountered. Interesting to see that black-backed gulls seem to be outnumbering herring gulls. No sign of any clamp or parking ticket on the car so we returned to the van via a mercy dash to a supermarket near us to get yoghurt, which we should have brought back from my home fridge yesterday but we failed to do. A late afternoon relax in the sun followed.

Another day and back to the south coast for a visit to St. Michael’s Mount. We’d timed the trip so we could walk out across the causeway. I even managed to show evidence of my booking on my phone, which was an achievement in itself. It is quite a climb up to the castle, so not ideal for anyone with mobility problems but the views over Mounts Bay are impressive.

The Cornish name for the island is Karrek Loos yn Koos, or the grey rock in the woods, which may date from the time 4000 years ago when the mount was not cut off by the tide but was surrounded by woods. The remains of tree trunks are still occasionally seen at very low tides. In 2009, a bronze age hoard was discovered by one of the gardeners, suggesting that, 3000 years ago, the mount was a trading centre. It is thought that Edward the Confessor granted the island to Benedictine monks from Mont St Michel in Normandy and established a chapel there. The mount became a place of pilgrimage but also a focus for conflict. In 1193 it was seized by Henry de la Pomeray, who had disguised his men as pilgrims in order to gain control on behalf of Prince John. John was attempting to stage a coup and take advantage of his brother Richard I’s absence on Crusade. Much of the current building dates from the fourteenth century, with substantial later additions. The dissolution of the monasteries was late to reach the far south west, so the religious community survived until 1548. The following year the mount was seized by those involved in the Prayer Book Rebellion. It became a Royalist stronghold during the Civil War but surrendered to Parliament, with Colonel John St Aubyn as the captain. St Aubyn purchased the castle in 1660 and it has been the home of the St Aubyn family since then.

Several myths and legends are attached to the island. The discovery of a seven foot skeleton on the island, buried vertically, fuelled the legend of ‘Jack the giant killer’; allegedly Jack from Marazion killed Cormoran the giant who built the mount and terrorised locals. Visitors can view the giant’s well and a tiny heart-shaped stone in the cobbles is labelled as the giant’s heart. Some features that caught my eye included the stained glass in the chapel, seventeenth century tiles and the ceremonial barge, that took part in the Queen’s diamond jubilee pageant. This is one of the oldest working boats in the country, having been constructed using wood felled on the St Aubyn estates in 1750. A collection of postcards of the Mount over the decades were cleverly displayed so that you could see both sides. There was also a model of the castle made from champagne corks by the butler. Two observations here, they must have drunk an awful lot of champagne and the butler really needed to get a life.

We wandered back into Marazion, where I felt obliged to sample yet another ice cream flavour, gingerbread this time. Then we beat the rain back to the van.

More Westward Wanderings

by thehistoryinterpreter

With the forecast heavy rain very much in evidence it seemed sensible to head for somewhere with a modicum of ‘indoors’, so it was off to Trerice, a manor house built by John Arundell in 1570. Inside there is a striking 576 pane window, predominantly made up of C16th and C17th glass. There are also numerous portraits, include some by Kneller. A 1950s wing replaces the former north wing. In the grounds there is an Elizabethan knot garden, given over largely to lavender and also an impressive potager full of vegetable and salad produce. If there were 100 hours in every day I’d want my garden to look like this. There are several mown mazes in the grounds, one being based on the maze at Troy Town on Scilly, which is known as the three circuit maze and was used by Scandinavian fishermen to trap bad spirits. I managed to escape.

Trerice is lovely but there isn’t really the scope for an all day excursion. The weather had improved so we decided to move on to Trengwainton Gardens, getting yet more value form the National Trust life membership. Here the rhododendrons were in full bloom. There is always something soothing about being in a garden and this one has the bonus of overlooking the River Fal. We walked down to where the King Harry chain ferry takes vehicles and passengers across the river. A steam ferry first crossed the river in 1888. It is one of only five chain ferries in England.

Next day and I was awake early to watch the misty dawn break over the sea, all accomplished without getting out of bed! The first stop of a busy day was Restormel Castle, which was built for the Earl of Cornwall, in good defensive position, overlooking River Fowey. It was originally used as a hunting lodge and was set in the largest hunting park in Cornwall. The park was also home to several hermits who were expected to pray for the souls of the castle’s owners. The remains are thirteenth century and the castle was owned by the Black Prince in the fourteenth century. After a skirmish during the English Civil war the castle fell into disrepair and was not deemed to be of sufficient use to maintain. English Heritage are now putting the headings of their interpretation boards in Cornish as well as English, A great first step but it is a pity that the text isn’t in Cornish too.

It doesn’t take too long to exhaust the possibilities of Restormel, so we move on to Lanhydrock House. The volunteer asks if I have visited before. I reply that I have but it was ‘a long time ago’. Do I remember the kitchen? I am asked, perhaps I should have explained that ‘a long time ago’, was about 39 years! The house was the home of the Robartes family, which I’ve always pronounced Row-bar-tes but, according to the information video is Row-barts. In April 1881 Lanhydrock was severely damaged by fire and the then owners died shortly afterwards, leaving the next generation of Agar-Robertes to take over. Ahead of her time, in 1894, the then Lady Robartes opened Lanhydrock to the public and establish a ‘bazaar’ there to raise funds in what seems to have been a glorified jumble sale. Her terse instruction cards to visitors have been replicated.

As always, I am attracted to the huge library, whose collection includes twenty five incunables. I had no idea what that meant either but just so that every day is a school day for you too (unless you already knew of course), these are books printed before 1501. There was also a fascinating and enormous steam jack in the kitchen. The National Trust seem to have developed an unfortunate trend for printing interpretation comments on the soft furnishings, which seriously spoils the authentic look of the rooms. I guess someone decided that it appealed to the visitors – not to this one though. We heard the story of how all the house’s laundry was sent to St Faith’s, a home for fallen women in Lostwithiel; I immediately wanted to scramble for census returns. Lanydrock’s gardens are extensive, with more rhododendrons in evidence. I would think that this is the best time of year for the gardens. I suspect they will be less impressive in a few month’s’ time.

Lanhydrock

On to Fowey and first the challenge of finding a car park. We located one at the top of the town but allegedly there could be one nearer to the church, where we want to be, so we decided to keep searching. Fowey is a tortuous warren of narrow, steep, winding streets. We do narrow, steep and winding but this is something else. Some vehicles were pulling in their wing mirrors to negotiate parts of the one-way system. Just because we were enjoying it so much (not), we completed the circuit several times before ending up in the car park where we first started and getting the town bus down the street. This doesn’t run after 5pm but the driver was able to tell us the best way to get back up the hill to the car park. I thought this might have been a first outing for my newly-acquired bus pass but the service was run by a private company and I didn’t like to ask if passes applied.

Fowey has been an established harbour for over 2000 years, exporting fish, wool and tin and being a point of departure for pilgrims to Spain. The returning vessels brought back with them wine, salt and iron. Fowey is noted for being the home of Daphne Du Maurier and we are here for a concert that is part of the Arts and Literary Festival that formerly bore Du Maurier’s name. There is little left of traditional Fowey, which now clearly caters for the yachting fraternity. Most of the food options were of the two peas and a bit of drizzle for £30 variety. We finally found The Lugger, which was more suitable to the sizes of both our pockets and stomachs.

The day finished with a Fisherman’s Friends concert in the local church. I was able to admire the heraldry round the church and practice my extremely rusty blazoning skills, while I was waiting for the concert to start. The downside was the less than comfortable pews. The evening was a sell out and was excellent, as we expected it to be. Even better, there was a community bus, with just two spaces, waiting to take us a ridiculously long way round to the top of the hill car park.

Cornish Meanderings

by thehistoryinterpreter

As always, you aren’t getting these posts in real time so apologies if I am saying it is glorious sunshine and it has been pouring with rain with you. May was supposed to be a quietish month so we booked a trip to Cornwall for some R & R. So much for quietish! I have four meetings to attend this week and a heap of writing to do. Nonetheless it makes a change to be somewhere different. As Cornwall is next door and earliest entry to caravan sites is 1pm, we had a leisurely start. I did have a slight panic when, despite what the website implied, on checking the site handbook for directions, I discovered that the wifi was hot spot only. All was well however as by choosing our pitch judiciously, I could avoid standing on one leg under a tree whilst attending my meetings. At least I hope I can. Internet and emails are slow but working, so fingers crossed that Zoom works too. As a bonus, we have one of the best views on site, looking out across the spectacular north Cornish coast.

Arriving at lunchtime provided opportunities for exploration in the afternoon so we set off for a gentle stroll along the south-west coast path, close to the caravan site, heading for Porthtowan, which, on the map, looked about that close (when ‘that’ is not very far). I really should know better. The clue is in the name. We are staying at St, Agnes Beacon. Beacon = high up. Porth = port = sea level. In between there was a lot more upping and downing. We really are too old/too out of practice for six or seven strenuous miles of sliding up and down cliff paths with plenty of loose shingle as an added hazard. The bonus was our encounter with the iconic Cornish coastal landscape, compete with granite cliffs, abundant wild flowers and abandoned tin mines. Limping and panting back to the van, we decided we should have settled for the mid-point at Chapel Porth instead. We survived but resolved not to try that again.

Looking for something somewhat gentler on day two, we drove to the south coast seeking  Pendennis Castle, which after a slight detour, we located. It is nearly forty years since my last visit. Pendennis is one of forty Henrician forts, erected in the sixteenth century, as Henry VIII fell out with many European neighbours. The impressive wooden portcullis was constructed from oaks felled in 1541 but it did seem that wood might not have been the greatest idea if the enemy arrived with fire-power. Guide David took us on a tour of the Tudor part of the fortifications. The castle was built on land owned by the Killigrew family, who provided the first three captains of the castle. The site was subject to continued development, with the large garrison block dating from the early twentieth century and this was still in military use until 1956. There were more incredible views across Falmouth Roads to the companion castle at St Mawes.

After some refreshment, we completed the ‘moat walk’ amidst more spring wild flowers and climbed down to see ‘Little Dennis’ another bastion on the shoreline. Then time to return to the van, via a short walk at Wheal Coates, close to the van. There are records of mining here that go back to the seventeenth century but the buildings that remain are nineteenth century. The tin mine finally closed in 1914.

The view from the temporary office window

More Warwickshire Wanderings

by thehistoryinterpreter

Another day out in Warwickshire. First stop was Baddesley Clinton, just a few miles from our caravan site. This is a fifteenth century, moated manor house, built on the site of a Saxon settlement. We began with a walk round the grounds and were treated with the view of a dozen newly hatched ducklings, hiding in the grass by the side of the lake. Baddesley was the home of the Catholic Ferrers family for twelve generations. In the late sixteenth century it was let to the Vaux sisters and became a centre for secret Jesuit meetings. It boasts a priests’ hole where nine Jesuits managed to escape detection. Said priests’ hole basically doubles as the toilet but anything to avoid being caught, I guess. The house is a joy for fans of heraldry with almost every room boasting coats of arms. We also saw a tapestry in the process of being cleaned and a particularly ornate, nineteenth century chapel.  As an added attraction, the house is the home to the National Trust’s largest collection of children’s books. In a rather more gruesome vein, in the 1480s, Baddesley was the scene of a murder, when Nicholas Brome came home to find the local priest ‘chocking his wife under her chin’ and consequently ran him through. After parting with a considerable amount of money and agreeing to repair two local churches, Nicholas was granted pardons from the king and the pope.

Next was the consumption of chocolate cake. I am not a fan of the regulation requiring the number of calories to be displayed. I am sure it is not a deterrent to those who need to be careful about calorie intake. It only means that we end up overweight and burdened with guilt, rather than just overweight.

In order to walk off just a few of the whopping 534 calories in what was actually quite a modest-sized slice of cake, we went on to Kenilworth Castle. We arrived just in time for ‘Knight School’, sadly we were observers only, being of rather more mature years than the target age for participants. Valuable lessons were nonetheless learned. The first rule of knight school is, ‘don’t get dead’. Kenilworth was established by royal chamberlain Geoffrey de Clinton in the 1120s. He also founded the nearby Augustinian priory of St Mary the Virgin. In 1447, the pope granted the priory abbey status. Kenilworth became a royal residence and was added to by King John, John of Gaunt and Henry V. Much of the twelfth century part is built of sandstone, which is eroding in interesting patterns. Kenilworth is famous for the siege of 1266, when Simon de Montfort held the castle against Henry III for 172 days, the longest Medieval siege. Elizabeth I granted Kenilworth to her favourite, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who entertained the queen at the castle, creating a pleasure garden in honour of her visit. Dudley was responsible for additional building on the site. He accomplished this largely by using pillaged stone from the nearby abbey, that had been surrendered to Henry VIII during the dissolution of the monasteries. The abbey’s remains were excavated in 1922 but are now protected by soil.

A royalist stronghold during the Civil War, Kenilworth was acquired by Parliamentarian Colonel Joseph Hawkesworth after the war. Retaining the gatehouse as a private residence, Hawkesworth began dismantling much of the castle and selling off the building materials. Kenilworth was saved by Sir John Siddeley, of Armstrong-Siddeley motors fame, who bought it for the nation, giving it to the forerunner of English Heritage in 1937, as well as funding repairs.