Saturday, 18 May 2013

Garston Wood

18th May 2013

With a reasonable day ahead of me, it was off to find some bluebells to round out spring. Eventually  settled on Gartson Wood, with a walk to the Royal Cranbourne Wood (well it was once a Royal Forest in Norman times - today it would be called Drow Coppice). Garston Wood is within about 20 km of Salisbury, so a veritably short drive of half an hour - of course, Mr Fry (AKA TomTom) took me the most direct route via Broad Chalke (anti-clockwise from Salisbury in the map below). I saved 2 miles driving, it cost me 5minutes extra, and gave me more experience at driving on narrow two way single track country lanes with the locals doing 50-60 mph. 


I'll pretty well let the photos do the talking:

This was the initial path - covered on both sides with bluebells and wild garlic (the white ones). There was a definite garlic odour in the air
Yay - I found some bluebells - in fact, just outside Garston Wood is Mistleberry Wood, which is awash in a sea of bluebells - absolutely fantastic - the photos can't do it justice.
A sea of bluebells and wild garlic. This is near the Iron age fort, and it's fascinating that the ditch around the fort only has wild garlic, but just before that the area is only bluebells.
This plant is called "butcher's broom". The "leaves" are so tough it was apparently used to sweep out the sawdust used by the butcher. The leaves aren't actually leaves, but more like squashed stems (and very sharp). How do I know all this? I met a lovely couple on my walk - Jo and Graham, who were very knowledgable and friendly. In the background (and out of focus) is the ditch wall of the iron age fort. You can make out the blue to the green of the ditch which is where the bluebells just stop.
As you come up over the fort wall, dike, whatever, you are met with another sea of bluebells
Jo was kind enough to take a photo of me inside the fort.
Along the way were also some wild orchids (hmm - for a sugar flower artist maybe?)
There were also some "white"bells . . . well, what else would you call them?
Spring is still here!! There were even some non-wilted daffodils on the roadside near Broad Chalke
Along the way I spotted a deer, and had to do some stalking. It paid off as I managed to get some reasonably good shots - although I had to make do with sticks in the way! 

I'll let the sign speak for itself - another kind of shooting - just as well I had on a red-ish coloured shirt
These stiles have a special name in England, but I can't remember what it is - they're great for accessing paths through the farm fences.
Yay - I also managed a photo of a local flutterby
This one's for Cal - I know how much she likes lambies. I like them too, but in a different way . . .  yum yum.
Finally, to finish off, behind me, as I took this photo, was one of the woods. In front of me was a farm scene.  It's fascinating to see the boundaries between village, pasture and woodland - so well defined!


Friday, 29 March 2013

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.