Anglesey Abbey

Anglesey Abbey

18th March 2013

Warning: contains history stuff.

Whilst Mark was off visiting Marshall Aerospace (who are contracted to do the wing fatigue test for both the RAF and RAAF), Cal was off exploring the University city of Cambridge. Be-ing Cal, there are no photos of this. However, in the afternoon we went to Anglesey Abbey for lunch, and a wander around the gardens. The snow drops were still out, and a number of daffodils were struggling to be seen. There were also quite a number of Hellebores (Christmas Rose) out . . . some time after Christmas. Cal made these in sugar art in one of her classes with Alan Dunn.

If we came looking for the ruins of an Abbey we were going to be disappointed. A community of Augustinian Canons erected the original buildings as a priory sometime between 1100 and 1135. The canons were expelled in 1535 by Cal's favourite fat man during the Dissolution of the Monasteries.

The former priory was acquired around 1600 by Thomas Hobson, who converted it to a Jaco-bean country house. Hobson retained a few arches from the original priory, which are now part of the dining room (just love what was done with the arches in the early part of the 20th Century - great lighting).

Apparently "Anglesey Priory" did not have the right ring to it, and the name was changed to "Anglesey Abbey". Eventually the buildings fell into a state that required significant TLC.

Anglesey Abbey was purchased in 1926 by two brothers – Huttleston and Henry Broughton, and I’ll digress momentarily to give some of the background to the purchase. The brothers were born to an Englishman, Urban Broughton, and his American wife, Cara Leland Rogers. Urban was a surveyor who had already amassed some wealth, but then married into more. His wife was heiress to multimillionaire American oil magnate Henry Huttleston Rogers. The family moved back to England in 1912.

Cutting a very long story short, the brothers determined that they needed a property with a number of specific characteristics: It had to be close to Newmarket race course (they had acquired a taste for horse racing – closely associated with Royalty); it had to be a house that was in need of renovation (so they could put their stamp on it); and it had to have extensive grounds that could turn into a landscaped garden. They found the property at Anglesey in 1926 for the princely sum of (from memory) £10,000 (or was that £26,000) - even so, a veritable bargain.

Huttleston’s father was given a peerage for his services to Anglo-American relations, but before it could be conferred Urban died – leaving a rather remarkable Lord and Lady – Huttleston and his mother. He took the title "Fairhaven" as a tribute to his birth town in Massachusetts.

Huttleston was without a doubt suffering from CDO, and if there was a way of rearranging the alphabet to account for the gap between the D and the O he would have probably done it. He had an obsession with time and everything had to be done precisely. For example, cocktails were precisely 7:50 pm in the library – and you were only offered one drink – from memory it was Gin and Pineapple juice. At precisely 8:00 pm he and his guests (which would number 3) would leave for the dining room, and dinner was served at precisely 8:03. To keep up with this tradition, tours of the house always start 3 minutes after the hour.

He often entertained royalty, with the Queen Mother visiting on a number of occasions for the races. Rather than signing a guest book, Huttleston gave his (Royal) guests a diamond tipped pen, and asked them to sign his window. The bookshelves in the library are also quite amazing, and look like they were made yesterday. The timbers came from the old Waterloo bridge that was demolished in 1934.

[From the National Trust Website] Huttleston used his wealth to indulge his interests in history, art, and garden design, and to lead an eighteenth-century lifestyle at the house. On his death, Huttleston left the abbey to the National Trust so that the house and gardens could "represent an age and way of life that was quickly passing".

A Gainsborough

Miniature Mosaic set into a desk

Absolutely stunning embroidery that was HUGE

England also has much to thank Lord Fairhaven. In trying to save as much of the national heritage as much as possible the good Lord purchased the entire Runnymede property, saving it from destruction and giving it back to the nation.

Lord Fairhaven's obsession with the Royal family - he has an entire gallery devoted to painting s of Windsor Castle

Delightful silver ship in the dining room

A Jacobean ceiling in the drawing room - replicated from a local pub - the pub ceiling was moulded and this one cast from that - a good thing too as the pub subsequently burned down

Jurassic Coast Continued

Tyneham

24th March 2013

Tyneham is a village on the Jurassic Coast, and one that I’d hoped to visit on the 9th March, but because the village is on MoD property it is often closed to visitors. It’s actually part of a military firing range used by the Armoured Fighting Vehicles Gunnery School, and the reason why Tyneham is on an MoD firing range is in essence because the Army acquired it during World War II and never gave it back.

Cal and I visited it this time round when the range was open.

The history of the village is fascinating, and certainly worth re-counting. The Parish Church, St. Mary’s, has a time line as part of the museum that is housed there, and starts around 5000 years ago with Bronze Age burial mounds on Povington Heath, and then 400BC with an Iron Age fort and a fishing community on the cliff above Worbarrow Bay (half of which has succumbed to the sea). There is also evidence of Roman occupations in the valley, and the area was a favourite hunting ground for Saxon kings.

Spring had supposedly sprung, but somebody should tell the daffodils that it’s still too cold to be out!!!

The first historic records of the village were in the Doomesday book, which documents that Tingeham was held by William the Conqueror’s half brother Robert, Count of Mortain. The original church dates back to 1297 – around the time that Salisbury Cathedral was being built. The medieval Piscina on the right dates back to the original church and was used to hold water in which the priests washed their hands as well as the rinsings of the sacred vessels such as the chalice and paten – which were taken to Salisbury Cathedral when the village was evacuated, and are now in the Chapter House.

The Bond family has a strong link to Tyneham, and purchased the village in 1683 – before this, the Bond’s had supported Cromwell in the English Civil war. Here’s a gory tangent: In Googling the timeline for the English Civil war I noted that in 1661 Cromwell was exhumed (three years after his death, so he could be posthumously executed) and his severed decomposing head was displayed outside Westminster Hall for another 24 years - yum!

Back to Tyneham and the Bond family – what a crowd . . . In 1685 a member of the Bond family, the 70 year old Lady Alice Lisle was sentenced to be burned alive for harbouring a refugee from the Battle of Sedgemoor (an attempt to overthrow James II by his bastard half brother), but after an outcry at the sentence she was beheaded instead (just up the road is a pub called the silent woman with the pub sign bearing a picture of a headless woman cradling her head in her arms . . . a connection maybe?). But the saga continues – in 1732 Denis Bond was expelled from the House of Commons for fraud – not much changes over a couple of centu-ries. There must have been some good blood, because in the late 1700s the Bond heirs became Reverends, with Rev John followed by Rev Henry, followed by Rev Nathaniel (who established the school in the village).

Cal outside the school house - huddled against the cold

During World War I the land at Lulworth, just up the road was chosen by the War Office to test its latest invention – the tank – a factor that led to the events of World War II. During the first world war 17 men from the Tyneham Parish died in fighting – a significant number when you consider the number of people in the village.

Just before Christmas 1943, the village and 7,500 acres (30 square km) of surrounding heathland and chalk downland around the Purbeck Hills, were commandeered by the War Office (now MoD) for use as firing ranges for training troops and D-Day preparations. 252 people were displaced, but because they were tenants of Ralph Bond, the squire (who was compensated) they only received compensation for the loss of the produce in their gardens. Perhaps the saddest part about the relocation is the notice left on the church door by the last person to leave:

Please treat the church and houses with care; we have given up our homes where many of us lived for generations to help win the war to keep men free. We shall return one day and thank you for treating the village kindly.

The evacuation was supposed to be temporary for the duration of World War II, but in 1948 the Army placed a compulsory purchase order on the land and it has remained in use for military training ever since. In 1952 Ralph Bond, the last squire of Tyneham Village died, “still bitterly unreconciled to the loss of Tyneham and deeply wounded by the Government’s shab-by behaviour and broken promise to return Tyneham to him and its former inhabitants”.

The pictures below show the village as it was in the early 1900s (but at least after 1927 as there is a public phone box) and how we saw it today.

Many of the village buildings have since fallen into disrepair or have been damaged by shelling and in 1967 the then Ministry of Works pulled down the Elizabethan manor house, though the church remains intact. The church and school house have since been preserved as museums. Cal liked the fireplace in the upper story of the Shepherds cottage, but I just had to get some foliage in the picture as well ☺.

After wandering around the village, we headed down to Worbarrow Bay for a look at the coast. The 400m walk quickly turned into a mile walk to the beach. Along the way we saw a sign instructing us to keep to the path. Evidently this doesn’t apply to the sheep.

The views of the coastline were very nice, and it was good to get close to the sea (even got my boots covered when a wave came in unexpectedly. Apparently you can swim there all year round – right . . .NOT. It was a balmy 1˚C with a wind chill factor of about -5˚C. We did see some sadistic dog owners chucking sticks into the water for their dogs – only the lab was stupid enough to go get them.

Worbarrow Bay looking towards Lulworth Cove (you can see the dogs and their owners)

Pondfield Cove (on the other side of the head land to Worbarrow Bay) - complete with Jurassic geologic formations.

 

Jurassic Coast (the first part)

Charmouth

2nd March 2013

After a brief stop at a shop near the Piddle Valley (I kid you not), it was off to the coast to see if we could find some fossils. We’d heard a bit about the Jurassic Coast – and the nice lady at the Chesil Beach visitors centre recommended that we visit Charmouth (point “C” on the map).

The view of the coastline from Charmouth was very nice, but we were warned to take care near the base of the cliff, as there had been severe mudslides with the large amount of rain over the summer and autumn.

After visiting the visitor’s centre, and having a chat with the local geologist, we headed off for the most likely part of the beach to find fossils (thanks for the helpful tip). There were plenty of people with their heads down looking amongst the stones on the beach, and we soon joined them. Of course, to get at the ammonites you really need a geologists hammer, as the little suckers are buried inside largish (15 cm) elliptical pebbles. All Cal and I could do was to fossick around in the detritus of the beach.

We did manage to find some fossils – YAY!! There were quite a number of belemnite fragments (long skinny squid like things), and we did manage to find some ammonite fossils. The one on the right is obvious - just imbedded in the pebble. The ones on the left look gold in colour because they've been turned into Iron Pyrites (fools gold). The one on the left is a fragment of a large ammonite (about 20cm in diameter), and the one in the middle has at least three smaller ones (OK, so that one was given to me by a nice lady from the Heritage Centre).

From Charmouth we headed into Lyme Regis (the tourist capital of the Jurassic Coast) simply because we could, and it was nice and close. After parking for free (yes, repeat that: parking for free in England, and in a tourist town at that) we found a place that satisfied Cal’s appetite for an English happy meal, followed by a walk along the foreshore.

They certainly make the most of the heritage, with the lampposts very stylishly made out with ammonites.

   







Dinner that night was at the Bear Cross (Badger pub, and a very very nice one at that).

Jurassic Coast

Jurassic Coast Path Walk, Dorsett

9th March 2013

Cal was hoping to finish some of her sugar flowers for a competition that is less than a week away, so it was a day out alone for me. Darn, I just broke my reading glasses, so must look a right idiot typing this up in the pub with one lens going this way, and the other going that. Back to the story . . . 

So, where to go, and what to do. I chose to go for a walk, for two reasons: First, I'm puting on too much weight and can do with the exercise, and second, it's something that I can't do when Cal is with me. So, where to go. I thought that maybe some coastline would look good, so Google to the rescue, and out pops Lulworth Cove as a starting point.

The detours are courtesy of Mr Tom Tom, when I discovered that there was a level crossing closed for maintenance.

There is no way that Cal could have made this walk. For a start it was about 13 km long, and secondly, it was up an down coastal path, and the hills were NOT for the faint hearted. They would have been easily 30º, and in some places felt like 45º. Google Earth gave gradients of about 35%. With the sun poking through, and the hills, it was down to a T-shirt and I was still sweating. 

So, what was there to see? I started the walk in West Lulworth, well, Lulworth Cove to be precise. There was a good Heritage Centre (this part of the coast is a world heritage area - opened by the Prince of Wales in 2002). From there I received some last minute directions from the very helpful lady at the desk. The area is well renowned for its geological formations and there was more than one school class out on the weekend . . . such devotion. 

Lulworth Cove

From the cove, it was UP the path on the first of the up-down-up-down-up-etc hills.

Looking back to Lulworth Cove from the walk

The nice wide (but still steep) climb from the cove

The first stop was Durdle Door, which is a natural rock arch formation - very spectacular (and I now have a fridge magnet of it). At this stage the sun started to poke through, and the white cliffs started to shine.

There was a lot of evidence that the cliff tops are not stable, and so I was very cautious at the top. Every now and then I found myself following a path that came a little close, so it was a quick photo and then back a few metres in land.

Along the path, I spied my first spring daffodils along the path, but I couldn't do anything artistic with them, but there were tufted grasses and other flowers that I could do something with :-). The tufted grasses have been the natural vegetation since the end of the last Ice Age, but 80% of the habitat has been replaced by more productive high yield grasses for grazing animals. 

The coastline looked a treat with the sun out.

The sun and exercise resulted in sweaty hair, but that was soon to be replaced with wet hair from the big fog that rolled in from the sea. This cooled things down, but meant that visibility was reduced down to 50-100m over the course of about 15 minutes.

The fog looked pretty spectacular coming in (I do like my camera :-))

I'd planned to walk to the White Nothe (pronounced as "nose" with a "th"). From there you can see Weymouth, Portland Island and Poole . . . well you could if there wasn't a big fog. I still made it to White Nothe as there was machine gun pill boxes from WWII on the bluff. There was also a steep and hazardous smugglers path to the beach, but the feet were getting sore, and knew the climb back up would be fun (NOT) - 115 m up.

The way back was a lot easier (although there was plenty of farmland mud to be had). At this stage the feet were asking the brain why the heck it thought this was a good idea. The brain responded with "suck it up, there's no other way to get back", and then there was the the Stair and the Cove still to be visited. 

OK, so not the farm, but at least it was a flat part of the Coastal Path.

There was this gate in the middle of nowhere - no fences attached to it, so I had to use it!!

The stair was another popular spot for the students, with vertical sedimentary rocks (pushed up when Africa collided with Europe).

I actually wrote this in a Badger pub on the way home "the Black Bear" - 4 runs - in a town called Wool. A great pub, that also serves English happy meals and ice cream. One might understand the latter in summer, and OK it was a warm 10º today, but the snow is on it's way back tonight - it's currently snowing in Norwich and it's on it's way here - snow tomorrow and Monday!!!

With my feet rested, I'll finish my pint and head on home to the good woman, have dinner, and get cracking with post processing photos and getting this on the blog, and leave you with a map of the walk, and the elevation profile.