The Autumn trip home

Over the last few years, it has become my habit to go home in the autumn.

St John the Evangelist Dormansland, Autumn 2005

It is a quick trip. In the spring and summer, if I am in London and have time to spare, I often head out into the Surrey Hills or the High Weald, Areas of Outstanding Natural Beauty, both excellent walking country. I pass on that in the autumn, as it is not the weather for it, and it is usually a Saturday in the football season, so I want to get back to London for the match.

When I was growing up, Dormansland, and east Surrey generally, was a fairly quiet backwater. Although it was in easy reach of London, and many people commuted, it was not stockbroker belt like the rest of the county, a spot for those in the know. Whilst I do not live or have family there any more, I get the impression that a lot of that has gone. There is one reason - frequent electric trains, making for a more attractive commute. They had been talking about electrifying the line from Croydon to East Grinstead since 1938, and it finally happened in 1987.

Not that it has made much change to the journey, past the Downs with the trees still changing colour, a few weeks later than back in the north, the long downhill run to the Eden, not quite such a bouncy ride as the old trains, then climbing again towards East Grinstead, more quietly than the Diesels.

It was a dull grey day this year, so when I got my camera out (my little Wildfire phone on this occasion), I knew I would not be getting anything like the picture above. The trees still gave a splash of colour in our wood that used to be a field.

When my mother died 13 years ago, I buried her with her mother, who died at the tail end of the first post War polio epidemic in 1947. With my grandfather not being around - my best guess is he headed back home with the Canadian Army, well there was a war on - my mother was brought up by her grandparents, who had been born in the 1880s, which may explain why I can be a bit Victorian.

The main purpose of the trip is to perform some routine maintenance on my mother's memorial. When I arrived, the firm who maintain the churchyard were finishing their work, and everything looked neat and tidy. When I was growing up, Ernie Walls, a lifelong resident of the village, worked on the churchyard into his seventies and eighties. When you look closely, you can see the difference between work done by a committed volunteer and a professional team. The people who maintain the grounds do their job well, the paths and grass are always immaculate. I am not sure if Mr Walls was paid for his work, but he went well beyond any hours for which he may have been remunerated, and the difference shows in the individual plots.

My mother, grandmother and great great uncle

My great great uncle Alfred is keeping his memorial above the rising ground, my mother is easily made visible again by clearing the leaves and a good stout pull at the encroaching grass, but my grandmother is lost to record - there is a now buried kerb on the left to match that you can still see on the right. Even the Gravestone Photographic Resource, a voluntary effort to record information in churchyards and cemeteries before they disappear to overgrowth, erosion and, sadly, in some cases vandalism, came too late to record her details.

Mr Walls was looking after his friends, relatives and people he had known in his long life in the village. When I was growing up, there were a dozen people I could think of who shared his knowledge, all now gone or frail, and with modern mobility, no lifelong residents to replace them. With them goes the motivation to sweep the leaves, trim the grass and edge the kerbs of the individual plots, a task that takes more time than could realistically be paid for.

After my maintenance, there is time to walk around to pay my respects to those I knew myself, those I knew by name, those who played their part over the years in the life of the village, and some who played their part in our national life - a Member of Parliament, an England rugby union player, a Dean of Arches, and two who signed up to serve their country in the First World War, but died in accidents before they left these shores.

On these trips I often have time to round off with a quick trip to the Plough - a constant beer range, with the Harveys Sussex Best always well kept - before heading back to London.

There was no time for that this time, as the football was out of London, in Burgess Hill, so I had to leave only just after they opened, one less roadside hostelry to be visited from here to there.

Once in a Blue Moon every Preston Guild

Most people are familiar with the expression "once in a blue moon" to describe something that does not happen very often. Less familiar to those outside northern England is "once every Preston Guild".

There are 2 popular definitions of a blue moon: the older being the third full moon in a quarter (between solstice and equinox) with four full moons; the newer being the second full moon in a calendar month. By the second definition, the full moon at the end of August was blue. It also coincided with the funeral of Neil Armstrong. As an aside, my mother told me I fell asleep during the television coverage of the Moon landings, but to be fair, I was only 1 at the time.

Whichever definition you prefer, a blue moon occurs 7 times every 19 years.

A Preston Guild is an event with formal ceremonies, accompanied by processions, exhibitions and performances, the only survivor in England of the mediaeval Guilds Merchant. It takes place, as the event's publicity tells us, every 20 years. Strictly speaking, that should be every 20 years except when there is a war on - a sequence of Guilds every 20 years since 1542 was interrupted by the Second World War, with the next Guild taking place in 1952. This year saw Preston's first Guild as a City, the status having been awarded to commemorate The Queen's Golden Jubilee in 2002.

The Guild Court, the main formal event of the Guild, is on the Monday after the Feast of the Beheading of St John the Baptist, on 29th August, so our blue moon neatly coincided with the start of the Guild.

As well as the formal ceremonies, some of the most visible parts of the Guild are the processions - Trade, Community, Torchlight and Churches. The last is the newest - until 1992 each of the three main churches in Preston each had their own procession. In 1992 they combined, and this year, it was expanded to include all the churches in the City and outlying areas. I was aware that the city has a strong church tradition - one possible derivation of the name is from "Priests' Town"; it is reputed to have been founded by St Wilfrid, and the emblem of the city of the Lamb of God, with the letters PP standing for "Princeps Pacem", or Prince of Peace.

However, even I was surprised by the scale of the event, with nearly 200 floats and groups of walking participants. Each of the churches or groups of churches had their own design, using the theme of The Living Christ, and incorporating the six Guild themes of Creative, People's, Merchant, Green, International and Welcome.

The participants ranged from the traditional ...

... through depictions of characters from the Bible and Christian history ...

... to a few that were a bit more colourful...

... and some bands that did not necessarily have much to do with church, but kept the parade flowing along.

Even The Queen came along, in the company of the Scouts.

The church at which I worship is not in the Preston area, but if it had been, I suspect our contribution would have been one of the more traditional processions. I might even have taken the thurible along: I am surprised none of the churches did, although as the procession took over an hour and a half, the biggest logistical problem would have been disposal of the ash.

I am not sure when the next blue moon falls so as to coincide with a Preston Guild. As the moon is on a 19 year cycle, and the Guild is every 20 years, the next time the cycles exactly coincide is in 380 years, but there are 7 blue moons in the cycle, so there may be other coincidences. These can, however, only use the definition of the second full moon in a month - the third full moon in a quarter cannot be late enough in August to fall after the Beheading of St John the Baptist and still have time for another full moon before the autumn equinox.

Some more pictures from the day, and some from around Preston can be seen here.

A strange place to put a castle

Mention a castle, and most people have a mental picture - an imposing stone building of varying states of preservation, on a prominent site, with views of the surrounding land. It would probably not be tucked away in the middle of a wood. However, on my way to a football game in Buckley, I went to see one in just such a location, at Ewloe in Flintshire.

The castle was built by Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, the last of the Welsh Princes of Wales, after he had reconquered this part of Wales from the Anglo-Norman Lords in 1257. It sits, conventionally in this respect, on a sandstone outcrop between two streams, which defend it from the north, east and west, even if the woods make it difficult to see anyone approaching.

The woods have not grown up round the castle - they were there when it was built, the Chester Plea Rolls of 1311 refer to a report sent to Edward II, advising that Llywelyn had captured Ewloe in 1257 and "built a castle in the wood". They now form part of Wepre Park, managed by Flintshire County Council, and are a Site of Special Scientific Interest, as semi ancient broadleaf woodland.

The Castle's main weakness lies to the south, as it is overlooked by higher ground - the land continues to rise behind the camera position.

Given this, it is not surprising that, unlike nearby Hawarden, it did not see action in 1276 when Edward I's armies drove Llywelyn back to Gwynedd Uwch Conwy (west of the River Conwy). Edward's forces had no need for it, and it was allowed to fall into ruin.

The castle is managed by CADW, who I have found to look after their sites well, but sometimes fall down on their signage. This was a case in point. The road was signposted in Ewloe village, and there was a helpful sign on the road to tell you that you were nearly there, but when it came to the footpath across a field that gives access to the site, the only sign was for the park, and as we have established, the castle is not visible for miles around.

Talking of signs, I spotted this one on a bench.

I think the left part is encouraging priority in using the bench to be given to people with restricted mobility, but the right defeats me.

The name of this blog

I have been asked by people who read my sports blog how these blogs came by their name. It is a Finnish name - Finland is somewhere I have got some excellent pictures, and intend to do so again in the future.

As readers of my sports blog will know, the biggest use of my camera is to take match day photos for Prescot Cables FC. A few years ago, once I had reached a standard I felt was suitable for display, I needed a logon to post a link on the Cables forum. I had just returned from holiday in Finland, so the name suggested itself - "kaapeli", Finnish for "cable", and as I started to show more photos, I continued to use the name. Visitors may be familiar with the word, as you will see it on signs if you go near a lake or the sea - not difficult in Finland.

These yellow signs are to indicate where a cable comes ashore, so you do not run your boat into it, at risk to yourself, and at risk of cutting off the electricity supply. In some areas the signs say "Kabel" in Swedish (the second language of Finland, spoken by about 5% of the population nationally, and by a higher proportion around the south and west coasts), and I have even seen one in English in Helsinki harbour.

This example is on an island in Näsijärvi, a lake to the north of the city of Tampere.

In the winter, the island is popular with walkers, being suitable for an out and back walk across the frozen lake. As well as being a mile or so from the shore, its attraction may also lie in being one of the few islands in an otherwise open lake, which can appear somewhat bleak in some weather. This can feel more so by the best views being obtained from the Näsinpuisto park near this memorial to the SS Kuru shipping disaster of 1929, when a steamer, that had been modified without sufficient thought to its stability, capsized on the lake with the loss of 138 lives.

Tampere's southern lake, Pyhäjärvi, seems much more peaceful, with calmer water, and the wooded islands one almost expects to find in a Finnish lake. A good way to enjoy the lake is by taking a boat to the island of Viikinsaari, a popular leisure destination, but peaceful away from the landing stage.

Pyhäjärvi from Viikinsaari

The lakes have a 59' difference in water level, with water flowing from Näsijärvi to Pyhäjärvi through the Tammerkoski rapids, which provided the power that made the city one of the most important industrial centres in the Nordic countries (in Swedish, the name Tammerfors is used for both the rapids and the city). The rapids still provide power, being channelled though three power stations owned by the municipal and regional electricity companies.

Tammerkoski rapids and Satakunnansilta bridge

I stayed in the city at the Hotel Tammer, just off this picture to the right. The hotel is run by a chain now, but retains some of the elegance from its opening in the 1920s. Not that I had a view of the rapids, I suspect there is a premium for that, so I had one of the rooms on the other side overlooking the fire station. Not that I was complaining, it is probably the grandest fire station I have seen.

Tampere Fire Station

Because of the city's industrial heritage it has been called the Manchester of Finland, and there are many similarities, with the former Finlayson mills and Tampella factories being converted to leisure and residential use like the mills and warehouses of Manchester, and the main activity of the city moving from industry to commerce. The Tammerkoski is undoubtedly more spectacular than the Ship Canal, even when there has been heavy rain where the River Irwell rises in the hills above Bury, sending down a torrent of twigs and branches to be trapped by the old docks at Salford.

Oh, and Tampere is a lot handier for the lakes!

Depicting John the Baptist

We have just come to the end of the Octave of the Nativity of St John the Baptist. The feast is on June 24th, and an octave is 8 days, including the feast, to extend the celebration.

Readers in most of England may need some introduction to John the Baptist, as his feast has been little celebrated since the Reformation. A remnant survives in commerce, as it is a quarter day - a day, along with St Michael & All Angels (September), Christmas and the Annunciation (March) on which many quarterly payments of rent etc. fall due.

Readers in Finland will need no introduction - Juhannus, called Midsummer when speaking in English, is one of the principal holidays of the year, celebrated with bonfires and traditional events, and marks the time when many city residents head to the countryside for a few weeks in the open air.

As the church in which I worship is dedicated to St John the Baptist, we have a number of depictions of the saint.

This statue was designed by Sir Ninian Comper, and was installed as a memorial to those men from the parish who died in the Second World War. It is said to have been modelled on Nijinsky, which unfortunately leads someone of my age to think of a horse.

A prominent statue like this will often strike a balance between depicting  what we know of the saint (a prickly character, denouncing his hearers as a brood of vipers) and producing an attractive work of art - the congregation will after all have to look at it for many years to come. This one may have erred on the side of art, we know from the Biblical accounts that John lived in the wilderness, and ate locusts and wild honey, so our statue is a little well groomed, and his garment, of camel hair, well washed and brushed.

We also have a statue above the north porch, outside the building, which is a more traditional depiction, presumably designed by George Frederick Bodley, as it is a fixture of his building.

The flowing beard, hidden in this picture by the Lamb, suggests a venerable old age, which John did not reach. We know he was about 6 months older than Jesus, and was beheaded before Jesus' Crucifixion, which suggests an age no more than about 30. Again, the hair is in suspiciously good order, and we only catch a glimpse of the camel hair garment under an outer robe.

Of course, it is easier to depict John's likely appearance in paint.

When the south porch was enclosed as part of a corridor to the hall a few years ago, a fresco was commissioned from a Romanian Orthodox artist, Laurentiu Nechita. It depicts Christ in Majesty, flanked by the Virgin Mary and John the Baptist, so we can see John as he is depicted in the Orthodox tradition. The hair and beard are more dishevelled, although the camel hair garment is, strangely, blue. Instead of the Lamb in the statues, John bears the Biblical text, "Behold the Lamb of God" the words that he uttered when Jesus came to him for baptism.

These very different works endeavour to depict John as he is described in his adult ministry. He also appears in Scripture at the beginning of his life, when his father Zechariah declares (by writing, as he has been deprived of the power of speech as a sign that the events revealed to him in a vision will take place), that the child is not to be named after his father, as would have been the custom, but to be called John, meaning "grace".

I am not sure of the wisdom of depicting the infant John in a statue, but someone had a go.

We know little of the provenance of this statue, but it looks like a classic example of mid Victorian sentimental bad taste, described by a former Vicar as a "hideous little gnome". It once occupied the pride of place now taken by the Comper statue, so I think we have a better lot than our forebears in that regard.

All trees round here

"You walk across a field... with COWS in?"

As someone born and raised in the countryside, from a farm labouring family, my mother was fond of recounting this reaction from one of her town based colleagues when she found that the path, unfenced at the time, from Dormansland village to Dormans Station crossed a field containing cows. This was in about 1978, the word "bovine" was a synonym for placid and unperturbable, and the only risk of crossing the field was stepping in a cow pat.

I am not so sure about cows these days, they seem to have beome more aggressive, and crossing a field is a bit like going in to a dodgy pub where everyone stops talking and starts looking at you, chewing menacingly.

So, let's take a look at the field we are talking about.

One could be forgiven for thinking that is not a field, but a wood - and so it is. The cows stopped grazing in the mid eighties, growth has been unchecked for nearly 20 years, so the land turned first to scrub, and eventually to trees. It is a familiar story across the area, livestock farming is not as economical as it was, and in many cases, where the field is not good enough land to grow crops, they have been abandoned to whatever will grow.

A couple of miles away, Hill Place Viaduct in East Grinstead was built to take the Lewes & East Grinstead Railway across the River Medway. The river here is only a couple of feet wide, but the soft clay with hard sandstone on either side means it has carved out a steep sided valley needing a ten arch viaduct to cross. When I first saw it, it strode across the valley from the East Grinstead side, very impressive for a seven year old. There is a view over to Hill Place Farm, which, I did not know at the time, my great great grandfather had farmed a hundred years previously. Indeed, his farming may well have been disrupted by the building of the viaduct.

When I next saw it, some thirty years later, I had a surprise. It is harder to see though now, with some of the trees nearly reaching the top of the arches.

The line the viaduct was built to carry was closed in 1958, and after some use as a carriage siding, it has been unused since the mid eighties. However, it is soon to be brought back in use by the Bluebell Railway, as part of their Northern Extension to East Grinstead.

One area where the growth of trees in the absence of grazing animals is really apparent is on the North Downs, which I shall look at in a future post.

Don't you just hate it ...

... when you go to take a picture of the Liverpool historic waterfront, and find someone has parked a boat in the way?

Queen Mary 2 moored in Liverpool

Queen Mary 2 visited Liverpool in September 2011. The original Queen Mary was registered in Liverpool, but never visited, as the 39' draught was too deep, whereas the Queen Mary 2, registered at the time in Southampton (subsequently registered in Bermuda to allow for weddings to take place on board), despite being over half as large again, has a draught of only 33'.

The Red Ensign - no longer flying on the stern of the Queen Mary 2

The time window for coming in to the estuary is quite tight, but when the tide is right, it allows a liner or cruise ship enough time for passengers to spend most of the day in the city.

Coming in

The best views of the ships using the cruise terminal in front of the City's historic waterfront can be obtained from Egremont Promenade, between Seacombe Ferry Terminal and New Brighton.

Queen Mary 2 and Liverpool Waterfront

From the Woodside Ferry Terminal in Birkenhead, or even better from the tower of Birkenhead Priory, the ship sits beside the Historic Waterfront and the newer buildings to the north.

Large passenger ships should become more frequent visitors, as the City Council has agreed to repay government grants used constructing the cruise terminal, to allow cruises to start and end in Liverpool. The money needs to be repaid, as, under European Union rules, it counts as illegal state aid. The rationale is that allowing cruises to start and end in Liverpool, giving people in the North a convenient location to start their holidays instead of going to Southampton, and allowing people to stay in Lancashire and Cheshire before starting their cruises only benefits Liverpool, and is therefore not allowed. On the other hand, only allowing ships to stop for long enough for a day in Liverpool City Centre benefits the whole region, and is allowed. No, I do not understand either.

Still, there will soon be the romance of people striding across the gangplank, high above the water, on to the promenade deck, on their way to exotic destinations. Well, not quite, the way on board puts function very much ahead of form these days.

Mother church

If I get into a regular pattern with this blog, there will be quite a few pictures of churches, I usually pop in if one is open when I am out and about. There is usually something of interest, even if in some cases it is what some clergy can do to an historic building. So, to start the ball rolling, here are some pictures of the church where I worship, St John the Baptist, Tuebrook, Liverpool.

Traditionally, the term "mother church" refers to the church in which you were baptised, and as I started attending as an adult, I was baptised here.

The amount of decoration in the church is similar to that in mediæval times. Not that it is mediæval: spending most of my time in church in Victorian buildings, when I visit a church that has been standing since the middle ages, I am struck by how plain it is. In the ancient church, the decoration was been painted over at the Reformation, and there is little or no visual evidence, apart from where restoration has uncovered fragments of a wall painting. This church is instead Gothic Revival - the conception of the architect, George Frederick Bodley, of what a 14th century English Gothic church looked like.

We cannot boast any of the scenes of the Last Judgment that adorned the walls in the middle ages, but we have the rather fine stencil work above: as I had been a bit wild with the incense on Easter Sunday, it nicely set off the light coming through the clerestory windows.

We will come back here again to look in more detail at other parts of the church, but for now, this is a taste of what I am used to in a church, to shed a bit of light on my comments on others.