Tatershall Castle... - Regency Romance Novels

It didn’t seem likely that we’d see much sun, but the Goblin had the day off, so Tuesday we took our cameras off to Tatershall Castle (about fifteen miles east of Lincoln). It’s more of a moated tower. It was built at the end of the 15th century and was apparently one of the early large residents built in brick. When visiting most National Trust properties you get a sticker to prove to the volunteers stationed around the property that you’ve paid. I, being paranoid, kept asking the lady at the desk… “Are you sure we don’t need stickers?”…three seconds later…”Are you sure we don’t need stickers?”…ten seconds later etc… How was I to know there would be NO volunteers? No one to stop me from taking five hundred photos! The lady looked at me like she hoped I’d fall down the stairs which wouldn’t be hard. Tatershall has one serious winding staircase (the wedge type that rap around the central pole thingy) from the second floor all the way to the roof.

close up — I was probably mentally focusing on this...The colours of the leaves and stem thingies echo the 15th century bricks and green grass...lovely!

Cherry blossoms...without any obstructed buildings in the background. I loved the delicate light on a few of the petals and the jagged edges of the leaves against the sky.

From the moat — I think this is one of my favorite shots of the day...I'm down near the moat water near where the kitchens were built on a separate foundation from the house. This view is opposite the Castle's doors. This just looks so fairy tale...that little witch house any minute might stand up on chicken legs and run away!

The servant's quarters... — This is where the servant slept/lived; no privacy except if you were a higher servant (and then you got to share a cold room full of provisions with a few other higher servants)...no toilets...no fires...fun! fun! fun! In the winter it must have felt like sleeping in an icebox. Each floor above has a guardrobe built in (ie a tiny medieval toilet room with a seat/hole that went down to the moat. I hope they didn't eat fish out of the moat!!!

The Goblin... — As I was trying to take a photo of the church the Goblin stepped into the shot and took a photo of me (I'm standing on the stairs to the servants' hole. To be faire most average people's homes at that time were dirt floors covered with dry rushes. So the servants probably felt privileged to sleep on a brick floor (obviously they slept on bags of straw not on the brick...they'd have froze to death mid-summer!

beautiful...an iron flower... (I'm not sure what these are called; brace, bracket, stanchion? They wrap around the chest making it capable of holding heavy items). This is off a 15th century chest sitting in the grand hall on one of the upper floors. The castle had no original furniture, but there were a few pieces brought in to give an idea of how it might have looked.

graffiti... — This is one of the oddest pieces of graffiti I've ever found. I made it black and white so you could see it better. Someone named F. DRAKE visited Tatershall in 1795 and carved into the side of a wall an address... 95 Watling St ...Why? Was this where he lived? (Yes, I assume it's a man). If so why carve it onto a Castle wall? Had he bought the property and was proud of it or did he want someone local to know where he was living? A lover he couldn't risk visiting in person...a married lover? What do you think? Feel free to postulate!

The view from the top looking to (I think) the south east...you can barely see them, but in the trees down near the bottom of the photo there's a rookery in the trees. On the ground the racket they were making was nearly deafening. High up on the top of the Castle I could barely hear them. There was a slight wind (and the visiting school children were chattering away) but it was otherwise quite serene.

Another view...this time facing away from the front of the castle...showing the church and the cute little old house that sit outside the moat. We did go into the church. I was mostly disapointed until we were leaving and I looked down at the stone benches that line the sides of the porch (as in most ancient English churches) and there carved into the stone was the shape of a 17th century sole of a shoe. Someone either took off their shoe and traced around it or stood there and had a bored friend trace around their feet (there were two matching) and then a few others by someone else. That was odd. I've never seen that before. I took photos, but they didn't come out well.

Some Regency graffiti...E. Rowlands visted in 1800...whoever he (or she) was. I'm assuming most deep graffiti was done by men who always carried knives on their persons. I suppose a lady could try to carve her name with her embroidery scissors (and there must have been women who carried knives for work), but still if a woman was to spend the time to carve her name onto someone else's castle (I do know of one instance where Queen Elizabeth I as a child carved her name on glass, but that was glass) wouldn't most women want to say more than a meaningless date? I think I'd want to write something cryptic...something magical...but being me, I wouldn't be able to make up my mind until it was too late and I had to leave. But I didn't have to add anything magical to the day...it was quite perfect on its own...even if my legs felt like rubber after I descended to earth. Now I need to refocus on getting my book done. I finally erased the trouble chapter that was blocking me so I'm sort of waiting for the characters to show me what happens. I'll get there...if other stories stop interrupting me and trying to drag me away into their stories...that would be helpful, but characters don't care what I think as long as their stories get told.