I’ve always found learning to be a chain reaction. I’ll come across something that sounds interesting, look it up…learn something new…look it up…read something that sounds interesting…look it up…the chain continues. Knaresborough, Yorkshire has become a link in the chain. A few months ago one of my members (Hello Fiona!) e-mailed me after reading my post about visiting with King John and wanted to know what kind of lipstick I was wearing and mentioned she lived in Knaresborough, North Yorkshire. After writing back and telling her that I was wearing Mary Kay, Copper Mine number 2347 (for anyone else interested) I looked up Knaresborough and was amazed that I’d never heard of it before. [Read more…] about Knaresborough; King John, Blind Jack and Regency linen
History Notes
Calke Abbey…the spell is unbroken…
Whenever I visit a stately home I inevitably end up with an emotional summary of my adventure. Sometimes, like at Byron’s Newstead Abbey, I feel strangely elated and happy. Sometimes I feel sad or creeped out. Sometimes, like on Saturday when I visted Calke Abbey, I feel depressed. “Calke Abbey,” as the National Trust brochure reads, “is a Baroque house built on the site of a former priory and completed in 1704 for Sir John Harpur. The family name changed to Crewe and then to Harpur Crewe and the family wealth was accumulated through clever marriage and the proceeds of land ownership. Throughout the generations the family displayed a range of eccentric characteristics from being strangely reclusive to fanatical collectors. The National Trust has decided to show Calke, as far as possible, as we found it in 1984 as a graphic example of the decline of the great country house that occured during the early to mid 20th century.” What the brochure doesn’t mention is that this decline has been heavily influenced by the sucession of crippling inheritance taxes that has brought most of these families financially to their knees and their houses and lands into the Trust’s posession in lieu of taxes they can’t afford to pay. (The trust is a seperate body of government design – call me a cynic but I’m sure that’s no coincidence). [Read more…] about Calke Abbey…the spell is unbroken…
Where would I want to be buried? Bitchfield!
Today was a Bank Holliday so the Goblin was off work. It was supposed to rain all day and Goblins hate rain so we weren’t going to go out, but around four the sun came out and he suggested we drive back to Boothby Pagnell to take pictures of the church. On our way there I was disconcerted to realise that the village I was really enchanted by was Bitchfield, the next village on. I somehow blurred them in my brain. Bitchfield is beyond charming, it’s Miss Marple, it’s magical! But we first went to Boothby Pagnell to photograph the church. Of course half way there we drove out of the sunshine and ended up under thick cloud, but at least it didn’t rain. [Read more…] about Where would I want to be buried? Bitchfield!
Clipsham yew tree lane…
A couple weeks ago we went out for an evening drive (it’s light until about 9:30) and on our way home we drove through Clipsham village for the first time. When I saw a sign that said ‘Yew Tree Lane’ I assumed it was another example of the English giving a small road an evocative name to taunt people like me. As we came trundling around the corner I saw a tiny Georgian house almost hidden by this strange clump of clipped yew trees. The sculptor in me loves shaped trees and hedges; the crazy woman in me loves yew trees…they’re poisonous and there are yew trees alive today that are well over a thousand years old. Magic! I craned my neck farther as the Goblin obliviously drove past a grass lane lined with clipped yew trees. I turned and said, ‘Did you see those yew trees? They’re clipped! I must go back!’ Of course I’d hoped he’d immediately turn back, but he merely said something like, “We’ll come back…it’s going to rain.’ and drove on. English goblins hate rain.
The following evening I reminded him I wanted to go back and see the clipped yew trees and he’d already forgotten them. How can anyone forget a lane of clipped yew trees? I made sure he wasn’t able to forget again so he drove me back this past Saturday afternoon. [Read more…] about Clipsham yew tree lane…
Fotheringhay is too beautiful for the dead…
While I was in Aldeburgh last Saturday I found a book called The Haunted South, by Joan Forman. In it the author drives around the South of England through all sorts of little villages and notes any documented cases of ghostly encounters. In the book the author mentioned in passing the church at Fotheringhay, Northhamptonshire and that it “…carries echoes of the fourteenth century in the sound of drums and trumpets from within the building.” Fotheringhay isn’t very far from where I live. I visited the village last year with my sister, though we didn’t go into the church. It started to snow as we crawled into the car to thaw out and neither of us felt like getting out again to see a freezing church. My desire to visit was renewed!
I mentioned to the Goblin that the church was supposedly haunted with ghostly music and hinted we could go take pictures and see the church. [Read more…] about Fotheringhay is too beautiful for the dead…
King John slept through the visit…
The Goblin had the day off. When I asked him yesterday what he planned to do today he said he wanted to drive over to Coventry and Birmingham to look at several cars he’d found on the internet. Our present car is rusting badly so it’s time to replace it. I had to go with him to test drive the passenger seat and on hearing he wanted to go as far as Birmingham my eyes lit up as I asked, “Isn’t Worcester near Birmingham?” Sort of, he said. “Well, if we have to spend the money on petrol (gas) to drive all that way can’t we stop off at Worcester on the way back so I can see the Cathedral…where King John is buried?” I’ve been reminding him regularly that I wanted to visit King John so he knew what I wanted to see in Worcester, but I mentioned it just incase he’d forgotten on purpose. [Read more…] about King John slept through the visit…