When I was younger my parents used to love taking my brothers and I out for the day to an English Heritage or National Trust property where we could spend quality time together as a family, learning about history, conservation, plants, or wildlife. My parents could also have some peace and quiet whilst my brothers and I ran around playing games in a safe yet adventurous environment.
One of their favourite places was Bayham Abbey, situated in the middle of nowhere on the Kent/Sussex border. The abbey was constructed in the 13th century, and is in ruins like the majority of abbeys and priories in England, thanks to Henry VIII. Despite being just a shell of its former self it was a brilliant place to explore. My brothers and I would make up all kinds of games, running between pillars, through doorways, and searching every nook and cranny for the best hiding places. The abbey is surrounded by beautiful countryside, so my parents would just sit back and relax, watching us play, absorbing the tranquillity.
It was this tranquillity that I was hankering after last weekend, when finally, amidst this wet spring, a sunny Saturday was upon us and it would have been criminal to stay indoors. My husband and I joined one of our friends with our picnic and we headed up to the abbey for some rest and relaxation.
It was just like I remembered, beautifully peaceful, and the perfect setting for forgetting life's stresses for a few hours.
We relaxed, chatted, soaked in the surroundings, and then ran around the ruins being very silly with our cameras. It was the best of both worlds.
I have very fond memories of many English Heritage and National Trust properties, but I love making new ones in them with my husband and friends.
PS. It was chillier than expected, so I tried out a new fashion - wrapping oneself in a picnic blanket - what do you think?
On Thursday my husband and I headed off an adventure, back to our beloved Dover Castle. This place is particularly special to us as it was where we went for our first big day out together as a couple, after we'd told everyone that we were an item. It was a day where we were liberated to enjoy our relationship without feeling like we were hiding a big secret anymore.*
Anyway, I'd first been there with my family when I was 15, and fell in love with it. It has a history that spans back as far as the Iron Age all the way through to the Cold War, and it is a truly fascinating place. What makes it more unique than any other castle in the country is its the network of underground tunnels. The first of these is Medieval. Then more were built during the Napoleonic era, and really came into significant use during the Second World War. Operation Dynamo, to evacuate troops from Dunkirk in 1940, was conducted from Dover's secret tunnels. I learnt all about this on my first ever trip to Dover. I was intrigued when our guide mysteriously informed us of another set of tunnels, further below, that was used for the Cold War, named DUMPY (Deep Underground Military Position Yellow), but that it was closed to the public for reasons that were not really given...
Fast forward to that special day out when my husband and I were first an item. The tour of the Second World War tunnels was the first thing we did when we arrived that day, and my husband became instantly fascinated with this subterranean world of intrigue, but particularly in relation to the Cold War and nuclear bunkers. Ever since then we have both been really keen to see Dumpy. So, when we spotted that English Heritage were hosting an Exclusive Members tour, opening Dumpy to the public for the first time, of course we had to go!
We travelled up to Dover by train, and then huffed and puffed our way up the very steep hill to get there, only to find that the rest of the castle was closed and that we couldn't get into the grounds until just before the tour was due to start. It was a lovely warm spring day, but we couldn't bear the thought of going back into the town and then walking up that hill again so we stayed just outside the main gate and ate our picnic. With a couple of hours to go, our caffeine levels were beginning to ebb, so my wonderful husband did venture back down the hill to buy us some tea from Costa. It wasn't much longer after that, when more and more history fanatics, urban explorers, and fellow geeks had joined us just outside the gate, when we were allowed into the grounds.
We all convened in one of the site restaurants, where we received an introduction from a group of experts who would be leading our tour, and then we were finally on our way down to Dumpy itself. We were led to a concrete block where we were given yellow lanyards to keep track of us, and then through a door and down some steps to the lift that would take us down to the tunnels.
Our guides wanted us to imagine that we were important members of the civil service who had been called down into Dumpy in the middle of the night. Dumpy was to be a seat of regional government in the event of nuclear attack on Britain, and so personnel were required to kept somewhere 'safe' where they could plan for the aftermath, and communicate with similar bases across the country. Just standing there in front of the lift gave a real sense of the dread that nuclear war could bring. These personnel would have no contact with their families or friends for about a month in the event of a nuclear attack, and they would have no idea how their loved ones would be faring above ground. In fact, due to morale, the information regarding what would have been happening in the country was limited only to those who needed to know for the sake of their role. If you put yourselves in that position, isn't it a sinister feeling? I think I would want to run back and be with my family, and yet the sheer horror of the unknown when it comes to a nuclear bomb, a potential Armageddon, could be enough to freeze you to the spot. Certainly the last thing I would want to do is go and work, even if it was for the good of the country! I couldn't bear not knowing what kind of world I would emerge into at the end of the month. The amount of professionalism and resolve these people would have needed if this situation had ever occurred is really quite remarkable.
The lift down underground...
The personnel who would have been required to work in Dumpy did undertake exercises down there during the 1960s, which apparently felt very real. I found a video by English Heritage on YouTube about this. If this is the sort of thing that you're interested in as well, it's only 10 minutes, so worth a look.
Down in Dumpy itself we were treated to explanations of how communications would have taken place between the other nuclear bunkers and ROC posts in the region and the wider country, how the air conditioning and ventilation worked in such a way as to minimise any potential radiation absorption, the limitations of the water supply and how 28 days was about the maximum time that could 'comfortably' be spent down there, and how the Chief Commander would have managed the staff and dealt with the information that came through to him.
We were taken through a series of corridors, and shown the air conditioning units, the Commander's office, the cabinet meeting room, the science room, the communications area, the small radio broadcasting room, and finally the toilets! Our guides were very informative about what life would be like down there, but they also gave us an insight into what it could be like up above. For example, the BBC would only broadcast a radio announcement at particular times, as people had to conserve batteries, advising people to ration their food and water sensibly, and to stay calm. And that was pretty much it. I can't even begin to imagine how difficult that advice would be when the fear of fallout must be truly terrifying, and that's if you were far enough away from the initial blast!
One of the comms rooms that once was full of teleprinters etc
Unlike the other main visitor tunnels at Dover - Annexe (used as a hospital during the Second World War), and Casemate (used for Operation Dynamo and other important communications) - Dumpy has not been dressed up or designed to create a visitor experience. Whilst I love that about the other tunnels, I also appreciated seeing Dumpy in such a raw format, and understanding just a little more about the Cold War and what the threat of nuclear attack really meant, thanks to our brilliant tour guides, I think it came to life just as much as if the rooms had been recreated as the other tunnels had been. Some visual aids were used, which were greatl, and we got to see plenty of real artefacts which was a treat.
After the tour we were taken up to the old mess hall, which is now used as a wartime themed tea room, where we were treated to tea and coffee, along with some delicious sandwiches and cakes.
I think the tour vividly created a sense of what a terrifying prospect nuclear attack once was, although it also raises many questions about just how capable the government would really have been if it had ever happened. With the kind of disaster they perceived, would any of their planned methods of governance have made any difference? And would they really have operated that efficiently? How could a few people underground cope with the masses above ground who were fighting to survive with limited resources and fear of radiation? I guess that's why the nuclear holocaust is such a popular topic for books and films, there are lots of 'what ifs?' I know so little about the Cold War generally, and indeed our parents have never mentioned what they thought of it back in their youth, or if the idea of a nuclear attack ever really bothered them. But I have decided to investigate the topic further and learn at least a little more about it.
And we had a great day out, courtesy of another brilliant English Heritage Members Event, huzzah!
Photos my own.
*I appreciate that this may sound quite cryptic. I do intend to explain it on my blog one day, I promise!
I've realised that it's been a jolly long time since I last blogged about a historical site, so here you go...
Yesterday we went to an exclusive English Heritage members' event at the Western Heights in Dover to see, amongst other things, the Drop Redoubt Fort and the Grand Shaft. The Western Heights is on the opposing hill to that of Dover Castle, one of our favourite places. Dover Castle is special to us, not only because we love its history spanning from the Romans to the Cold War, but because it was where we spent our first proper date day out after we'd told everyone who needed to know that we were a couple (this was a big deal and another story for another time). The secret war tunnels beneath the castle gave birth to my husband's fascination with hidden locations especially those that are underground. As this was essentially my fault - it had been my suggestion to go to Dover - I now have to be party to various adventures that take us to exciting and often scary places.
So this Sunday we went to the Western Heights. The Drop Redoubt fort is hidden high within the cliffs, built initially in the event of a Napoleonic invasion and then developed during the Victorian period. Now, I know (and indeed care) little for neither Georgian nor Victorian history. It makes great costume drama, and that's about it. Nevertheless there are occasions where my interest is stirred, and my find myself unwittingly drawn to a period that I generally make no secret of despising. This was one such occasion. We were given a tour by two eminent historians of the Western Heights Preservation Society (I say eminent because I think it would please them to be thought of as such). And it was fascinating. The tour was long - almost 4 hours - and involved lots of walking through woodland, up and down hills and steps, and occasionally crossing a road favoured by Dover's more manic drivers. It was also a gorgeous summer's day, and we were outside a lot more than we had anticipated so we both caught the sun a little, oops... I'll admit that I did switch off at times - my mind kept wandering to "Oh I should have packed sun cream...is my nose going red?," and "Why does Vodafone think I'm in France?" and "When do we next get to eat?" But for the majority of the time my attention was held, which is no mean feat.
The highlights of the tour were the Drop Redoubt and the Grand Shaft.
At the Redoubt we were met by two genuine historical artefacts - Napoleonic soldiers who had magically sprung back to life to welcome us, with just a little disdain, into their fort. They proceeded to tell us all about their regiment, uniforms, and weapons, and then fired their guns to scare the wits out of us all.
The Drop Redoubt
After that we were hurried up (more) steps to the very top of the fort to see the barracks, and to admire the views across Dover to the castle and across the Channel to France. And also to see a fake Roman monument (oh how I chuckled). After more fortness it was a trek down the hillside some way to the Grand Shaft...
The Grand Shaft is what my husband really wanted to see, and therefore what I wanted to see also. It is a triple staircase leading from Grand Shaft barracks, all now virtually disappeared, to the seafront below. In the event of an attack the soldiers could make their way down the different staircases rather than going up to the road and following that down instead. Much more swift I'm sure you'll agree. Our historians informed us that the staircases were designed and developed by a gentleman called Twiss , who completed them at £700 under budget. Wish we could employ his ilk at the council...
One set of stairs totalled 140, so that's 420 in absolute total - thank goodness you don't have to climb that many at once! There are a further 60-odd steps from where the barracks were down to the top entrance to the Shaft. By this time in the tour we were physically exhausted. We'd spent the day before traipsing around Brighton on a shopping trip, so by this point in the weekend we were well and truly ready to keel over. However, as we were quite bit younger than our fellow tourists we had to look sharp and descend the stairs like men! Well, going down is always easier than going up... When we got to the bottom my husband announced that he wished to have his photograph taken from the top. Because I love him I agreed. Half way up I thought I would die. But then a I was overcome by a strange dreamlike mist and found myself ascending as if by fairy wings... Actually I made that up, but I did, much to my amazement, make it the top much quicker than I expected and I was still able to breathe, huzzah!
View up the Great Shaft from the bottom
After that we broke off from the rest of the tour group as we'd been the only people foolish enough to travel by public transport so had no need to walk back to the car park. After the staircase I must have gotten a little lightheaded as I suddenly felt incredibly fit and began to lead us down a suspiciously overgrown footpath. Several scratches later we emerged at a dead-end. Only trees, nettles, and a tunnel... The tunnel was blocked off but just seeing it was enough to please my husband, and it was with a big grin on his face that he led us back through the brambles to the main bridleway and we somehow made it back to the station with a few minutes to spare for our train home.
We returned home with aching limbs and every muscle feeling extraordinarily toned (if only it worked like that), and decided to round off our day with Chinese takeaway and a double-bill of Lost. We slept well.
It was a good day out. The historians who led the tour did really well; they made Napeoleonic and Victorian military history interesting as they placed the defensive history of the Western Heights in context. The soldiers in costume were a great touch. My husband has found his passion for the secrets of underground Dover even more fuelled than before *loving sigh* For now he'll just have to enjoy our photos, and pore over the chapter 'The Secret State' in Underground England by Stephen Smith which he was given a couple of Christmases ago.
No plans for our next historical adventure yet, but there will be one before too long, I'm sure!
Just over a week ago we came back from a holiday in Shropshire to celebrate our first wedding anniversary. We ended up there sort of by mistake. We knew we wanted to go away for our first anniversary, and we both had fond memories of childhood holidays in Dorset so thought we would go there. However, by the time we came round to booking a cottage most places weren't available for the week we wanted. A friend of ours had just come back from a holiday in the Forest of Dean and highly recommended it, so we took our search to Herefordshire. Little did we realise that the website we chose was for cottages in Herefordshire and surrounding counties, and it was about a week before we went away that we realised we would actually be staying in Shropshire. It didn't matter, it was still somewhere new for us to adventure and a chance to escape from everything.
We didn't know what to expect but when we arrived we were very pleased with our choice. Shropshire is an incredibly beautiful county. It is so lush and green, very hilly, and very rural. Our cottage was on the edge of a farm in a tiny hamlet. We couldn't have picked a more tranquil location.
Eager to explore (because that's how we rest) we very quickly discovered there was a lot to see in Shropshire - an abundance of National Trust and English Heritage properties around, plenty of walks, and pretty towns. We strayed into the neighbouring county of Worcestershire most days as we were close to the border, also very lovely and green. We went on many adventures, including cycling in the Wyre Forest which proved just how unfit we both are and that we need to invest in bikes to work on that! We explored some historical sites - Stokesay Castle, Ludlow Castle, Wroxeter Roman City, Witley Court, Kinver Edge Rock Houses, the Severn Valley Steam Railway, Worcester Cathedral, and the famous Iron Bridge and Tar Tunnel (there's lots to see up at Ironbridge near Telford, but we were only there for a flying visit!). We ate out at some lovely pubs or we stayed in and cooked for each other, winding down with puzzle books and games of Carcassonne. We ate cream teas or cake most days. We went exploring on random drives and walks. We did even stray into Herefordshire for one day - to see Berrington Hall, which has excellent Below Stairs tours - learning about the lives of the servants is so much more interesting than visiting just another posh stately home - highly recommend this one for something a bit different by the National Trust! All in all it was a relaxing holiday, surrounded every way we looked by beautiful countryside. A chance to be away from it all, exploring somewhere new, just the two of us.
When I wrote my post about castles back in April I said that I would report back on some of the ones I visit. Well, why stop at castles? They are my favourite type of historical building admittedly, but there are many more fascinating ones round and about.
So onto an abbey!
Yesterday morning we decided to brave the rain and go to Battle Abbey, which is next to the field where the famous Battle of 1066 took place, hence the name of the town. It took us just under an hour of driving through continuous torrential rain to get there, and when we made it, looking drop-dead gorgeous in our kaghouls (as you do), the custodian warned us that most of the site was outdoors. We were unperturbed however. We have both grown up on British summer holidays, and are therefore old hat when it comes to visiting open-air sites in rainy weather.
The abbey, owned by English Heritage, is an interesting place. It was allegedly in a privileged position due to its proximity to the famous battle, and therefore received great honour and wealth. I've often struggled with this about abbeys, monasteries, and priories, and I'm still unsure what to make of them. The museum in the Gatehouse gives a good illustration on life as a Medieval monk. There were many artefacts in the museum in glass cases that had special alarms fitted. Even items that many of us (including me with an archaeological background) would consider to be of little monetary value (always of great historical value), seem to have been targeted or actually stolen at one stage or another, so needed to be kept closely guarded. The abbey itself is mostly ruins, very little of what the Normans built remains, although there are number of rooms built later in the Medieval period, that retain their original shape and vaulted ceilings, so you can get a sense of what the space was like. After the dissolution of the monasteries Henry VIII handed Battle Abbey over to some lord, who turned it the western part into his private home. That part is now a private school.
For us the most fascinating buildings were the little dairy, and the ice store, which were built in the nineteenth century. The ice store initially looks like a Second World War Anderson shelter, although made out of brick. You enter and go down some metal stairs to stand above what looks like a well. My fiance was enamoured - as he always is by anything underground and apparently secret - whereas I freaked out a bit at how unsturdy the metal seemed, and turned to leave too quickly, smacking my head on one of the low wooden beams at the entrance, doh!
Undoubtedly, my favourite area of the site was the battlefield itself. The view from the abbey across it is stunning. As the rain cleared and rays of sunlight burst their way through the clouds, the field spoke of nothing but peace and beauty. And yet it was where, almost 1000 years ago, the course of English history changed dramatically. It is where hundreds of men died, and much blood was spilt, where history was turned on its head in a day. You would never know it to look at it now. It is like peace has descended upon a place that was the witness to so much pain, and cleared it of all agony. It is a strange phenomena. I had a similar experience, although the history is achingly recent, when I visited the Somme battlefields in France. It seems like a trite example, and it does sound like I am being sentimental, but for me, this sense of tranquillity demonstrates hope. Hope of healing. It can be hard to relate to soldiers in 1066, but they were real, living breathing men, who had families. 1066 or 1916 the principle of lost lives is the same, and there is a beautiful melancholy about those battlefields now. What will it be like for those places, destroyed by battles, not just wars, but of all kinds, now? Sometimes it feels like those places will never know healing, will never be beautiful. But I have a hope that there is.
Ok, seriously off on a tangent there...
I should end that serious note, on a silly one. In the cafe at the abbey there were quotes relating to the Battle of 1066 dotted around the walls. The one next to our table read, "The Norman Conquest was a good thing, as from this time onwards England stopped being conquered and thus was able to become top nation." Sellar & Yeatman, 1066 and All That, 1930 - to which my fiance responded, "The irony is that the opposite was true for France!"
I think they are amazing. Why? I am a historian, I am a romantic, I am an escapist. Castles inspire all three of those elements of my personality. I grew up visiting castles as my family were members of both English Heritage and National Trust, and as we always holidayed at home in the UK, castles were often on our 'things to do and see' list. Growing up on the South Coast, where there are a number of castles and forts from different eras, has also helped fuel my passion, and yes, relatively geeky love of castles! Oh, and when we're talking castles, we're not talking stately homes. No, we are talking about the ones that were used as defences, many of which are utterly ruinous these days. I love castles so much that there is a strong chance, this blog continuing, that I will visit many and report back on them.
I visited one such building yesterday, which inspired me to write this post. I had a hospital appointment in the morning, and so took the day off work as holiday because it was easier than battling my way from one city to another to get into the office by lunchtime. My boyfriend accompanied me to the hospital. The day had started bleak, cloudy, and rainy, but after my appointment the skies had cleared and beautiful spring sunshine had broken through. So, having the day ahead of us to do as we pleased we took a train along the coast to the small village of Pevensey where there is a stunning ruined castle, these days owned by English Heritage.
Pevensey was one of the castles my family frequented most during my childhood. My parents loved it because it meant they could sit back and relax whilst my brothers and I ran around the ruins, playing all manner of Medieval themed make believe games, or just good old hide and seek. Yesterday it was quiet and peaceful. Despite it being the Easter holidays it wasn't a popular day for the castle, so my boyfriend and I could wander around, exploring every tower, relatively undisturbed.
I love Pevensey Castle because it is so quintessentially ancient. It started life as a Roman fort and was developed into a castle by the Normans shortly after the Battle of 1066, it survived four sieges, and was eventually abandoned in 1500 after it was no longer needed as a crucial defence point. And there it remained to eventually become ruins. The Roman wall still stands, and then the inner wall of the Norman castle remains inside it. There are a number of rooms to be explored, although with little in them. You can get some idea of its original shape - it was unusual in that it had seven towers, and you can make out the originally defensive position it once held. If you're interested you can read up on some of its basic history on the English Heritage website, which there is a link to in my list of favourite websites.
For me just being within those ruined walls offers a strange sense of tranquillity. It is perhaps bizarre when you consider what went on within the walls, and how lively they once were, particularly in times of war. Pevensey was also used as a state prison at one stage. It's not exactly a place that naturally falls into the category of peace, joy, and love! Even so, there is some romantic ideal about a building like that. It has been left open to the elements, to be weathered down, and for grass to grow and flourish within it, weeds to pop up and expand over its walls. It holds more power to me in this state than it would if it was completely intact and looking like a fully-functioning Medieval castle would. I can read up on the history if I want, and I can certainly imagine the lives of those lived there (however historically inaccurate those ideas may be!), and I prefer that to having the history all laid out before me, all the details filled in in stark technicolour. The mystery keeps history, and therefore castles, exciting.
Perhaps its just my over-imaginative historical mind seeing it that way. There are castles, like Dover, which have more too them. Dover is a lot more interactive, and as a result it does manage to bring history to life. I would have found the secret war-time tunnels there far less interesting if you weren't guided through and if some of the original equipment hadn't been kept down there.
But there is no escaping the peace and tranquillity a historian can gather from sitting amongst the castle ruins and appreciating the unknown element of history - sometimes having to sift through some great tome on this war and that battle is just plain boring. Sometimes castles that are also museums are fascinating places to be, with much to learn from, but other times those crumbling ruins that give a hint of what was past but otherwise submit to their fate of eroding back to nature are the exciting ones.
I love castles either way, and as a mere peasant I enjoy treading through their old corridors and ruined grounds piecing the history and archaeology together, or else just sitting back and letting my imagination do the work.
