I’ve been too busy to write, not because of research (though I am better organized, ready to hit the countryside exploring churches) but because I’ve been traveling and playing tourist. I’ve joined so many organizations that my wallet overflows with cards that get me into this or that for free. I’ve already gotten my money’s worth or far more out of every one of them, even those I’ve only had a month.
We’ve had a number of guests, and I take hosting seriously. I happily accompany people to my favorite London museums and historic sites, pointing out what I think they’ll find most interesting and helping them beat the crowds. I’ve driven three different sets of guests outside London, and taken my family out twice. I also try to select interesting outings for my children, who vary widely in their degree of interest. The oldest can be persuaded and usually has fun. The youngest wants to go wherever, whenever, no matter how age appropriate it might or might not be. The middle one doesn’t want to go, no matter how tempting I try to make it sound, unless he has solid previous experience telling him it will be worth his while.
In February I had guests that are part of the same Society for Creative Anachronism kingdom that we’re from back in the US, but we lived far enough apart that I hardly knew them. We hit it off and had a fantastic time exploring together, sampling pubs wherever we went. They joined me on a drive through the countryside of Kent where I saw two churches with brightly painted effigies. I helped them make brass rubbings, and we ducked into the gate of Battle Abbey (founded by William the Conqueror on the spot where he defeated King Harold and won the Battle of Hastings in 1066) even though we couldn’t tour it. We drove toward Dover hoping to see the cliffs, but the short daylight hours hampered our exploring. We did stop at the Battle of Britain Memorial (because it was easy to pull over there) and walk – CAREFULLY – out to the edge of the cliff where even in the dark we could see the shining white stone.
On our second trip to Kent we went to the northeast, collecting fossils during low tide at Herne Bay (at 8:00 in the morning, in the cold cold wind, after a two hour drive from London…brrr) before driving to Canterbury Cathedral, then Leeds Castle. At Canterbury I “collected” more effigies, although I had to ask permission to get into a chapel that was, for no reason I could ever fully understand, locked behind an iron grill. The person who accompanied me as I quickly took some photos said the most ridiculous thing about how they had to be careful after 9/11. I fail to understand how letting me see and photograph all the other tombs and chapels is fine, but opening this chapel (that any visitor can see into) causes you to scold and ask why I didn’t call in advance to arrange special permission to take photos, as if I even should have known that the gate would be locked? It was a treat to recognize some of the effigies from books that I’ve been reading about the subject, especially the one of the priest with the fleshed and clothed form on top of his tomb, and the terribly realistic cadaver only partially draped in a shroud on display below.
After gaining a little confidence driving British roads, I was ready to take my family out for an excursion during half term break. We stopped first at a church I wanted to visit, where the boys made brass rubbings while I photographed. I thoroughly delighted the church warden, who was astounded to think that someone came all the way from America to see effigies, and that I knew the effigies in his church were there and made a special effort to see them. He suggested a family-friendly place for lunch and we ended up strolling around the town just enjoying the sunny day. We walked past a shoe store and I seized the opportunity to outfit my growing ones in new shoes which they promptly covered in mud at the playground. We then ventured on toward Stratford-upon-Avon, arriving at dusk (since daylight disappears so early in the winter). We took a family-friendly ghost tour of the Falstaff Experience, ate in an ancient pub, walked to Shakespeare’s birthplace for a quick photograph, and ventured over the river Avon before calling it a day and returning to London.
Our next guests were also SCA friends, a family we know who have two young children. They wanted to visit Stonehenge, which was as underwhelming as I’d expected. Luckily the cheerful fellow selling me a membership suggested we visit Old Sarum, just 15 minutes away. Although it is just the ruined remains of a castle (where William the Conqueror had his barons swear fealty), it was fantastic. It is on a hill with great views all around and a moat that must have been some feat to dig. The children delighted in running and climbing everywhere while the adults enjoyed the puzzle of identifying what the stone foundations had been before they were stripped. At the base of the hill was an extra treat: experimental archaeologists recreating homes of the prehistoric people who built Stonehenge. During their lunch break we got a short tour of the different construction methods they are testing. They even cut the trees with hand made axes, and one of the interns is going to live in the houses once they’re finished to verify their habitability. I love it! After Old Sarum we checked out the nearby town of Salisbury, and especially Salisbury Cathedral. There aren’t any effigies there of early Tudor women, but there were plenty of effigies for me to photograph, plus a beautiful original copy of the Magna Carta and of course stunning architecture.
On our next outing they detoured with me to Ewelme to see the justifiably famous effigy of Alice de la Pole. I wasn’t expecting to learn anything relevant about costume from her — she’s late 15th century, but not late enough — but her ornate tomb is in pristine shape and also features a cadaver below her recumbent effigy. This cadaver stares up at a fresco of saints and my friend got a rather hilarious photo of my on my back, head tilted back of the edge of a step, trying to see the painting. The church had other treasures like grotesques, carved angels, and some early Tudor brasses, and was far enough out into the countryside that we enjoyed seeing some uniquely old world things along the roadside like thatched roofs and unexpected castles. We continued our trek northwest to Warwick Castle, which I absolutely must bring my boys back to see. Not because the interpretation of the site is good — it is fair at best — but because it is such fun to climb the castle walls and see the ancient buildings. The weather was fabulously awful — late in the day when we climbed the walls it snowed great wet clumps of snow in wind so strong that it blew sideways instead of falling down. And this was supposed to be the second day of spring! The greatest disappointment was that the wet weather prevented them from firing the trebuchet because it was too slick for even the mechanical tractor to grip and pull it down for a launch.
While at Warwick the Horrible Histories were setting up little mini camps about different time periods, getting ready for spring break. I paused to look at the Vikings and Henry VIII, but they had others. Before seeing this display I had an amused and tolerant view of Horrible Histories, which the kids discovered on CBBC just after we moved here. They’ve written some entertaining songs that my kids enjoyed (our favorite is Charles II, the King of Bling) and we bought Garrett the recorded books set for his birthday, which he and his brother have quite loved. I thought they were fine for introducing some time periods of English history I might not have brought to their attention before, and amusing them with some vaguely historical tidbits. But the camps really turned my stomach. Just how many cliches can you fit into one tiny little space, with just two or three costumed interpreters staffing it?
More touristing tales to follow soon!