Tonbridge... A Tale of Two Castles

All lockdown and no adventure makes Archaeofam awfully sad

All Lockdown and no Adventure makes Archaeofam aWfully sad

All lockdown and NO adventuremakes Archaeofam AWfullY sad

aLl LOckDown and No Adventure mAkes Archaeofam 4wfu11y SAD

AlL L^*KdowN aNd N£ A&venture M@kes #rchAeofaM ^W£ullY $ad

It seems to have been terrorising us forever, this awful, heartbreaking pandemic. It is a truly foul and frightening situation and our family are fully committed to doing our part, staying in isolation and away from others to help stem any spread of infection.

Of course, that doesn’t mean we don’t utterly miss being free to explore the sublime world around us. It seems strange to think back on adventurous days almost a year ago when we could make thrilling plans and travel to new unseen parts of this wonderful island, to witness fresh and fascinating feasts for our eyes and to revel in the awe-inspiring histories littering every inch of Albion.

Yet despite the current lamentable situation of the virus stricken planet, we are not completely caged, for as long as we are vigilant, it is safe to venture out on short isolated walks for exercise purposes. We cannot stress enough how important we believe it is to remain socially distanced from all who are not part of a bubble, but this has been a unique opportunity for us to explore some of the curious wonders closer to home.

In a recent poll, Tonbridge was named the happiest place to live in the whole of south-east England! (as long as you don’t count Richmond Upon Thames, which came out above Tonbridge and is in fact in the south-east of England, but let’s just ignore that, for now, shall we?!)

We are fortunate enough to currently call this cosy little corner of the world home. On a couple of former journal entries, we explored certain parts of the historic town, but the lockdown has been a wonderful chance to really get to know this quirky little community and its remarkable landmarks.

For us, Tonbridge is a tale of two castles.

The earliest of these is the incredible, though lesser-known, Iron Age hill fort upon Castle Hill.

There are actually two hillforts upon Castle Hill, both of which were excavated during summers between 1969 and 1971. The late S E Winbolt, who was under the impression there was only a single hillfort, had conducted earlier work in 1929. It was not until aerial photography was utilised that this mistake was understood and early plans of this ancient monument were revised. The fortifications on the arable segment of land have been largely ploughed out, but evidence remains intact in the forested areas.

This particular position in the landscape was an important aspect of high ground, 400 feet above sea level, controlling a northwest to southeast route to the river at Tonbridge, a frequent crossing point of the magnificent Medway.  British Museum radiocarbon dates of charcoal at the site indicate the forts were in use between 315 – 228BC. The earlier of the two forts appear to have suffered fiery destruction, though it is unclear whether this was an accidental or deliberate action. The volume of burnt timbers suggests a dramatic and sudden event. This first fort was subsequently abandoned and a second soon occupied.

Archaeologists argued the residents of these fortifications were probably farmers or peasants, protecting themselves from unclear outside threats, perhaps Belgic invaders, early Roman influence or rival neighbouring tribes, or something altogether more ghastly. They utilised the forested landscape and built oak palisades and revetting fences along the ramparts. The main outer rampart of the first fort was 30 feet wide and 12 feet deep, the inner rampart 15-18 feet wide.  Inside the rampart from an entrance to the east, the surface was cobbled with ironstone.

Our meanderings have often concluded in strolling by this magnificent hidden gem. The surrounding countryside is so peaceful and stunning. It is one of the things that drew us to Tonbridge, to begin with. A town with all the amenities we could possibly require, yet a short walk in any direction and we could be wandering through green pastures and witnessing stunning hilltop landscapes and a scattering of historic villages and buildings.

The other, more famous of Tonbridge’s Castles is... Tonbridge Castle!

The castle sits at the heart of the town, majestically crowing a small rise by the river. It bravely commands the main river crossing, now part of the high street and is an easy point of reference for residents and visitors alike.

The castle came to be shortly after the Norman Conquest of England in 1066. It was a simple fort of earth and timber, a Motte-and-Bailey castle which guarded the crossing of the River Medway. The castle was built by Richard Fitz Gilbert who was granted the land by William the Conqueror. It is thought that between 30,000 and 50,000 tonnes of earth were shifted to create the moat and erect the Motte.

The Castle continued in the family and was handed down to the De Clare family, descendants of Fitz Gilbert. This family continued the development of the castle, replacing the wooden structures with stronger stone-built fortifications. They were to make a big mistake however as they rebelled against King William II, whose army besieged the castle and burnt Tonbridge to the ground.

The De Clares were allowed to retain the castle and continued to improve its defences. In the thirteenth century, a stone curtain wall connecting great towers at each corner was built around the whole town for protection and a twin-towered gatehouse was erected.

During the reign of Henry III, the castle was said to be one of the strongest fortresses in England. His niece, as well as Edward I daughter, was a mistress of the castle.

The castle ceased to be a residence after the 16th century, apart from a brief period when it was occupied during the Civil War, though it saw little action, with the warring parties clashing elsewhere nearby.

On days when a lengthy adventure seems too much of a trial, a wander to the Castle is a perfect tonic. We often stroll across the green, Audrey loving the opportunity to hunt for treasure or run through the grassy fields. If the weather isn’t the greatest, this whole area can become inundated with water. It was perhaps added security in days gone by, now, however, it is a convenient messy playground for our little explorer.

Whilst the original structure that adorned the Motte-and-Bailey is long gone, it is still possible to climb the imposing mound and view the ruins at its peak. This is a great opportunity to witness the spectacular strategic landscape which made the area perfect for such a defensive powerbase.

One of the most wonderful things about our little town is the abundance of worthy public house options! There are watering holes for all tastes. Rustic old pubs like the Vauxhall Tavern or the Tudor built Rose and Crown, both old coaching inns, or the Chequers Inn, itself dating back to the 15th century but on a site where an Inn has likely stood since 1264.

Nearby the Chequers was the traditional spot for punishments in the town, which included stocks and a whipping post. In July 1555 Margery Polley was burnt here for her religious beliefs and in July 1575 Katherine, the wife of Edmund Brystowe, was burnt for poisoning her husband.

You can also find great Sports Bars like the George and Dragon or the Gatehouse, or homely, artsy wonders like two of our very favourite places, The Foresters Arms and the Beer Seller, both with delightful decor, the best range of beers and even fantastic deals on pizza!

A short drive opens a whole new range of wonderful options including our old local, the first place we ever enjoyed a drink in this part of the world, The Poacher and Partridge, a stunning country pub with an amazing beer garden. There are of course countless more options and we will undoubtedly try to get around them all.

In any of our usual adventures we would sign off by finding one of these local pubs for a refreshing final beverage, but with the current difficult health and safety issues and the unfortunate closing of such establishments, we must refrain. Luckily, as we are in our home town, we can safely enjoy our favourite tipples from the comfort of our own living room.

Home sweet home!

Arthur... World Away

On a beautiful bright summer’s day, whilst Emily Archaeomum was hard at work, Audrey and I kidnapped the grandparents and made off on a brief but mystical adventure to the very heartlands of British folklore and mythology.

We were hot on the trail of that most iconic hero, the unrelenting pillar of importance in these ancient and magical lands, none other than the legendary King Arthur.

Arthur is the mythical British king of relentless legend. He is said to have pulled the sword from the stone, befriended ladies in lakes and ruled over all England with his round table of fearless and slightly adulterous Knights. Arthur was advised by a powerful wizard buddy and embarked upon all manner of quests and trials in the name of God, country, chivalry and honour!

There has been much speculation on the origins of the legend of King Arthur, and fierce historical debate as to whether any such King existed at all. The most popular opinion appears to be that Arthur is an idealistic amalgamation of a number of poignant protagonists of the islands rich history. Popularised by Geoffrey of Monmouth in his History of the Kings of Great Britain, Arthur took a central role in the vision of what a great King of England should be.

Tintagel famously appears in Geoffrey’s incredible tales of Arthur. Legend has it that whilst Gorlois, Duke of Cornwall, was at war, he left his wife, Igraine, in the oppidum of Tintagel. The wizard Merlin disguised Uther Pendragon as Gorlois who entered Tintagel and impregnated Igraine. The child she was then said to have conceived was Arthur.

It was here at Tintagel, that we would make our brief pilgrimage, fearlessly following the trail of our infamous hero king.

The scenic drive to Tintagel is incredibly enjoyable, especially during the summer months, though some of the roads in this corner of the island are more than a little hair-raising, narrow winding snake-like stems of concrete flanked by high blinding hedgerows and occasional forested tunnels which twist this way and that through the continuing countryside. Towns and villages appear from nowhere and are gone again just as quickly as they arrived, rustic spectres in a mystic landscape.

We arrived into Tintagel, a kind of bizarre circus-like dream town bustling with tourists and traders. Every shop, bar and cafe is geared towards the legend of Arthur. Imagine if Disneyland bought a quaint English fishing village and shipped in its plastic brand en-masse. Parking wasn’t easy to secure and even trickier to navigate once through the gate, a veritable Battle Royale of vying visitors.

Once parked up, we were able to make our way towards the gem of this incredible outcrop, the cliff edge fortifications that convinced generations of scholars and fantasists that this might be the conception place of the legendary King Arthur. Tintagel is run and maintained by English Heritage. There is a charge to enter for non-members. The fee’s go towards the undoubtedly astonishing costs related to keeping such an important historical landmark safe and sustainable. A worthy cause indeed to keep this spectacular site soaring.

A shuttle bus service was available to ship visitors up and down the long road to the ruins. We decided, however, that as the weather was wonderful and the queues were dreadful, we would walk. This was a good decision, it wasn’t too far and even with Audrey taking full advantage of the daddy packhorse commute, it wasn’t too much of a strain.

Tintagel has a deep and rich history of human activity. An assemblage of Romano British artefacts has been unearthed in the area of the Castle, hinting at the occupation of the peninsula during this period. There could have been a settlement of the British tribe, the Dumnonii, possibly mining and trading tin, which made the area such an important source of wealth and resources.

A later high-status settlement was uncovered on the site, dating to between the 5th and 8th centuries, smack bang in the postulated era of Arthur! Originally hypothesised as the site of a monastery, more recent interpretations have suggested that this was a royal residence. The site was defended by a ditch and the natural barriers of the sea and cliff sides. Evidence from this period included a substantial quantity of imported pottery, suggesting a significant amount of trading activity.

The most fascinating and intriguing archaeological discoveries also came from this period. In 1998, a slate stone, known as the Artognou Stone, was discovered during excavations. The 5th–6thc stone was inscribed in Latin, illustrating the regional use of this language even after the collapse of the Roman Empire. It gained notoriety due to the inscribed name Artognou, argued as a variant of Arthur. Just as incredibly, during 2017 investigations, archaeologists discovered a 7th-century slate window ledge inscribed with a mixture of Latin, Greek and Celtic language and names, indicating a highly connected and literate society on this incredible promontory. A copy of the Artognou Stone, along with a wealth of artefacts uncovered at Tintagel, is on display in the castle museum.

It was later, in the 13th century that the main fortifications and battlements were built by Richard, 3rd Earl of Cornwall. This castle was built after Geoffrey of Monmouth’s fantastic works, which claimed Tintagel to be the conception place of Arthur. Richard, it seems, was keen to keep the connections alive and illuminate his residence as the famous seat of Cornish Kings. It was built in an ancient style and the Arthurian legends were suitably reflected.

Our adventure to Tintagel occurred prior to the creation of an impressive new bridge leading to the castle ruins. Our own experience involved the narrow, slightly death-defying trek up a tiny stairway hugging the cliff edge, terrifying... especially with a toddler on your back! A good exercise to get your heart pumping though and a real sense of grandeur as you look upwards towards the imposing ruins above.

Whilst the experience was one shared in close proximity to a horde of tourists and travellers, Tintagel Castle is definitely worth the visit. I can’t imagine there is ever a quiet moment in this historical corner of the globe so steeped in legend and fantasy. Gallos, the now-famous statue of Arthur, was constantly surrounded by amateur photographers jostling to get the money shot holiday snap. Whichever way you attempt it, you are probably destined to have a strangers family immortalised in your perfect picture! Yet despite the anthill experience of it all, to see the castle ruins, the earlier archaeological traces and most impressively, the spectacular coastal splendour and stunning sea views, was well worth the effort.

We had considered finding a little pub in Tintagel town for a beer and some food, but similar to the castle, the town was swamped in Arthurian revellers. We made our way back to the car and drove through the stunning Cornish countryside again until we found a quieter spot to sit, reflect on our quest, and enjoy some cool refreshing summer lager, wine and juice.

We may not have uncovered the Holy Grail, but we had scaled a fortress and witnessed the wonders of Albion from perhaps its most iconic and ancient point. I’m sure, as Audrey’s first Cornish Castle assault... Arthur would have been most impressed.

The Pen...shurst is mightier than the sword!

Just along the river, over the hill and through the picturesque flowing meadows, a rather special estate is nestled in a valley not far from the River Medway. Since it was not a great distance to reach this amazing historical fancy, we decided to take a sneaky little adventure in search of rainbow stones, haunting horrors and potential historical intrigues.

We prepared as always by packing our provisions and readying the crew. Charged with employing an experienced navigator, Audrey carefully selected Squishy Bear for the job, a masterful commander of the map. The route to this stunning seat accommodates all manner of ramblers and cyclists alike. Well trodden country footpaths lead almost unbroken, from Tonbridge, through Haysden Country Park, along the vast serene river and all the way up to Penshurst Place. It is a scenic saunter through the Kentish countryside, and a popular one.

Not much is known of the Penshurst Estate before the 13th century, when building work began on a manor house. An easy half days ride from London, Penshurst was ideal for hunting grounds and leisurely accommodation away from the city.

We began our adventure in Penshurst by wandering the church grounds, situated just beside the grand house. The village is brimming with period character, a quaint scatter of old homely architecture with a pub and a collection of shops and homes. According to local legend, a ghostly figure haunts the village, traipsing through the streets on his final journey to see his secret love, the Vicars Daughter! There has been a church on this same spot since at least 1115 AD, but recent Saxon discoveries in the vicinity suggest there may have been some form of religious structure on the site since the 9th century.

The first recorded priest of the church, Wilhhelmus, was appointed by Archbishop Thomas Becket. It would be his final public order before assassination just two days later at Canterbury Cathedral. The church of St John the Baptist at Penshurst has seen continued development through almost every age since the 12th century.

Amongst the throngs buried in its hallowed grounds are Earls, Viscounts, Knights, Leaders of the British Army and a Viceroy of India. Ghosts of the good and great reside here, alongside some of the more sinister deceased residents. The churchyard also houses one of the last remaining Dole Tables to be found in the country, a stone table once used to distribute money and food to those in need.

The church is set amidst the ancient manor house, guild house and rectory, all surviving wonders which have seen a turbulent tour of tragedy and triumph on their doorstep. Our wander took us through the churchyard and out to the spectacular estate beyond, boundless grounds with startling views of the magnificent Penshurst Place.

Construction of Penshurst Place began in the 14th century. Sir John De Pulteney desired a country estate to add to his London properties and so had a Manor House built in 1341, much of the house remains today in its original state. Through the centuries, the house was developed with protective towers, curtain walls and ever larger and more luxurious chambers. King Henry IV’s third son, John Duke of Bedford owned the house for a time and in the mid 15th century he added the hall now known as the Buckingham Building.

Humphrey Stafford, the 1st Duke of Buckingham inherited the estate. He was the first of three successive Buckingham’s to own the property. The 3rd Duke enjoyed displaying his wealth and power. In 1519 he invited Henry VIII to Penshurst. With no male heir, Henry feared Buckingham as a threat to his throne and found an excuse to have him tried and executed, seizing the property for himself.

Henry VIII used Penshurst as a hunting lodge, and an excuse to visit his soon-to-be second wife, Anne Boleyn, since her home of Hever Castle was nearby. Sticking with the wives of Henry association, the house would later be gifted to Anne of Cleves, Henry’s fourth wife, in their divorce settlement before falling back into the hands of the monopolistic monarchs.

King Edward VI, Henry’s sickly son, gifted the house to his tutor and steward, Sir William Sidney. It would remain in this famous family until the present day. One of the most renowned members of this incredible family was the Tudor poet, Sir Philip Sidney. He was known for his works such as The Defence of Poesy, Astrophel and Stella, and The Arcadia. Philip Sidney was also a soldier and died at just 31, from a bullet wound inflicted during fighting for the Protestant cause against the Spanish at the battle of Zutphen. It is said that the apparition of Sir Philip still stalks the halls of Penshurst, perhaps musing a final powerful poem or lamenting his early jaunt to the grave?

The house continued to grow, seeing visitors such as Elizabeth I and the children of Charles I. It would remain a beacon of literary musings throughout the centuries. Penshurst opened to the public in 1947 and now boasts a visitor centre and cafe, as well as some stunning gardens.

We circled the great house, its astonishing architecture dominating the landscape. From various explorations of the estate during my various exercise adventures, I have noticed a great deal of intriguing monuments littering the land. A strange mound caps the hill, labelled on our trusty OS map, but with little further information as to what it may have been? A landscape folly? A natural phenomenon? A tomb? Nearby is a perfect circle of trees, and throughout the grounds are some incredible flora and staggering stumps. The entire area seems steeped in mythical properties, a fairytale panorama with ghostly greatness in every inch.

Audrey collected an engrossing array of magical twigs and enchanting leaves to add to her ever-growing collection of supernatural specimens. Still no sign of the elusive rainbow stone... perhaps they were hidden within the well-fortified walls of Penshurst Place?

We completed our investigations with a visit to the local pub, a perfect way to end the adventure sat beside an open fire, enjoying an ale or two and resting our weary feet. It had been a fascinating forage through the home of many ancient elites... their treasures are undoubtedly scattered in this lush landscape, and possibly their sinister spooky secrets too...

The Battle of... Battle? Nearish Hastings!

This ancient island of ours has seen many an invasion. From the Beaker people to the Belgae, Romans to the Angles, Saxons to the Vikings, this little rock on the edge of the earth known affectionately as Albion, was already a melting pot of cultures before the pesky Normans arrived on that famous year in British history, 1066.

The Norman invasion is one of the best recognised and most significant periods in our long and turbulent past. William the Bastard, Duke of Normandy, later more pleasantly titled William the Conqueror, ventured across the Channel to claim his right to the throne of England following the death of Edward the Confessor. Upon his arrival on the shores of Albion, William was soon to be met by the English Army under the leadership of King Harold. The resulting war for the Kingdom would go down in history as...

The Battle of Hastings

Hastings has long been a favoured escape for our little family, especially since our move to the south east of England. It is our most frequented sea-side spot, offering all the unique perks of a British coastal town. Ice Cream, chips on the pebble strewn beach, astonishing ocean views, delightful little historic pubs, boats aplenty and a variety of play parks for Audrey to conquer!

We have made the journey on several occasions and revelled in exploration of the town and its surrounds. The old town of Hastings is a perfect reminder of an ancient coastal settlement. Narrow winding streets with close buildings, antique stores, pubs and restaurants, a real rustic feel to it all. It is not difficult to imagine these very same streets brimming with sailors and fishermen, pirates and explorers, sharing their bewildering tales of ocean voyage and adventure.

A perfect turquoise sheet stretched infinitely to the southern horizon, billowing and breaking in the blustery wind. We climbed the hills to the charming houses above, old, entrancing buildings with the most spectacular views over the inviting ocean. One of these buildings had even been our lodging on a rather special occasion when Emily Archaeomum and I were still exploring the early stages of our romance. The house was called the Beacon, an old lodging full of delightful art and period character. We found the welcoming accommodation through Air B&B, whether it continues to be used as such, I do not know, but if so, I highly recommend it!

Also on the cliff top are the ruins of Hastings castle. We ventured into the crumbling stone remains of what had once been a formidable fortress. When William arrived in Hastings, he constructed a wooden castle in the motte and bailey style. After William’s victory, he ordered the castle be rebuilt in stone. Today, only a fraction remains, but it commands the cliff edge and would have been a stern reminder of the new power of the island rulers.

One of the things that I was not aware of until spending time in this delightful coastal spot was that the Battle of Hastings was not actually fought in Hastings. The Battle was fought further inland, about 7 miles northwest near the town of Battle. So it would be more apt to be named The Battle of Battle... but the name Battle only emerged after the Battle, named in commemoration of the famous fight.

So to the battle itself, there are many conflicting accounts of the Battle of Hastings, but the general, though very simplified thread seems to be something like this:

As mentioned, the death of the childless Edward the Confessor led to a power struggle between several factions. Harold Godwinson initially took control, having claimed the Confessor named him successor on his death bed. Harold’s brother, Tostig, also had eyes on the throne. He caused a number of uprisings, during the most significant of which he joined forces with the Norwegian King, Hardrada. Hardrada believed he had a claim to the throne thanks to a deal with Harthacnut, one time King of England and the half brother of Edward the Confessor.

Harold defeated the joint forces of Tostig and Hardrada at the Battle of Stamford Bridge, but he wasn’t given much time to enjoy his victory as news soon arrived that William and his forces had landed in Pevensey, just to the west of Hastings.

Harold was forced to march his battle weary army over the island to face this new foe. William of Normandy believed he had been promised the throne by Edward the Confessor. Edward spent time in exile in Normandy and many in his court were from that Kingdom, so it is possible he could have offered the crown to his closest kin. William was furious when he learnt Harold had taken the throne from his grasp and immediately set to work on taking back what he believed was rightfully his.

The English Army marched to the area now known as Battle, and set up their forces at the top of a hill. The Normans drew up in three ranks and attacked with archers. Thanks to the geographical positioning and their shield wall, the archers of the Normans were fairly ineffectual. During some skirmishes, the Normans believed that William had been killed. The English rallied and pursued the fleeing Normans but William, very much alive, rode through his forces and encouraged the soldiers. They turned on the now broken lines of Harold’s army and slaughtered the pursuers.

Seeing the success of this tactic, they feigned retreat again, drawing the English into a chase before turning and massacring the disorderly army. Eventually, whether by an arrow in the eye or being cut down by a knight, Harold was killed in battle and the leaderless army were defeated. There were further smaller battles, but William the Conqueror was crowned the King of England on Christmas Day 1066.

At Battle, in the year 1071, construction of an Abbey began, to commemorate the victory. It is believed that the Abbey was erected on the site of the battle and it has even been speculated that the high altar was placed on the very spot King Harold fell.

The town of Battle is a quaint rural pleasure. It retains an ancient character, with bowing buildings overhanging into the street and a number of delightful pubs and restaurants. Battle Abbey is run by English Heritage and contains the Abbey and ruins as well as the grounds of the battlefield. These days, it is a scenic pleasure, perfect for a sunny stroll and well signposted with regular information boards exploring the various historical intrigues and battle facts. It must be a far cry from the terrifying chaotic bloodbath which occurred in this same space a millennium ago.

We continue to visit Hastings and Battle whenever we get an opportunity. Although, if Audrey continues to collect the stones and shells from the beach at the same rate, we may be able to create a replica Hastings in our front garden in the not so distant future!

One further worthwhile mention... tucked away behind George street, next to a cable car station in a little dead end alley, are a number of unique antique stores and curiosity shops. One of these local shops is an intoxicating musical emporium, selling a fantastic array of instruments and accessories. It was in this fine store I saw the most beautiful machine I ever laid eyes on, a beat up old jazz guitar which played like a dream. I made the awful decision not to buy it... I instantly regretted it!

I went back shortly after but of course, it was gone. I shall never forget that perfect guitar... I mention it now as a word of humble advice, if you ever catch sight of your dreams, don’t let them slip away. These moments are fleeting; grasp those opportunities with every fibre of your being!

It Aint Alf 'Otford' In Ere!

There was a place, an incredulous place, where Medieval Kings fled to escape plague, where Tudor Monarchs arrived to enjoy lavish parties, a place that centuries of spiritual leaders could call home. It was a haven for the affluent and important, the perfect country escape, a renaissance palace said to be the grandest in all of Europe...

So why did it no longer exist?

Today we set off to find out!

On specific research purposes, we embarked upon an excursion to a little village near Sevenoaks in Kent. During some of our previous exploits, we had explored a number of stunning sites in the vicinity. Knole, Oldbury Hillfort and Ightham Mote are all within touching distance of the quaint and picturesque town of Sevenoaks; its historical importance was well established.

Today we were on the hunt for Otford Palace.

Emily Archaeomum had been tasked by a television production company to seek out potential sites in which community garden archaeology might unearth interesting results. Fortuitously, we had recently noticed a fascinating article detailing a spectacular monument which once resided in the now sleepy village of Otford.

The site was less than half an hour drive from our little home so we made preparations for a voyage of reconnaissance. Audrey assisted by packing essentials such as her spinny wand, little penguin and a selection of unusual stones collected on earlier voyages, presumably for comparative purposes. We loaded the trusty transport and set out on our adventure.

Located on the river Darent, the village of Otford is straight-off-a postcard pretty. The town square boasts an impressive church with origins in the 11th century, a delightful selection of rustic pubs, a hodgepodge of ancient character brimming architecture and a sweet award-winning pond/roundabout... thing!

The known history of Otford stretches back at least 20,000 years with flint implements discovered in the locale, alongside later Neolithic pottery. A middle Bronze Age cremation Urn was discovered below a round barrow on Otford Mount suggesting a more settled community at this time. The Iron Age produced evidence of farming, occupation and even a possible Hillfort on the mount.

During the Roman period, Otford enjoyed the construction of at least two luxurious villas, one of which was more than twice the size of nearby Lullingstone Roman Villa, which you may recall we had explored on an earlier adventure. This was an interesting and early indication of the fertile and lucrative position of the village.

It was from the Anglo Saxon period, however, that Otford became a seat of great power and importance. King Offa of Mercia is believed to have fought Egbert, King of Kent at the battle of Otford. King Cenulf of Mercia would later present the estate to the Archbishop Wulfred. From this moment until 1537, Otford Palace was one of a chain of houses for the Archbishops of Canterbury. The Manor House became one of the most magnificent buildings in medieval England, where a succession of Archbishops welcomed most of the Kings and Queens of the country.

At another Battle of Otford, this one in 1016, the monk John of Worcester wrote that Edmund Ironside had brought his army to Kent to fight the Danes. Edmund overcame Cnut’s Danish armies here and forced them to flee to the Isle of Sheppey.

One of the most famous residents of Otford was Thomas Becket, the hair shirted Archbishop who would later be canonized following his martyrdom. A nearby well is dedicated to Saint Thomas Becket. A local legend tells of the saint striking the ground with his staff and a miraculous spring emerging from the very spot. The pilgrim’s way, a historic worshipful route from Winchester to the shrine of Becket in Canterbury Cathedral where he met his grizzly end, passes directly through Otford.

During the 14th century, as the Black Death ravaged London, the fearsome medieval monarch, Edward III, escaped the crowded city and resided at Otford over Christmas to avoid infection. It is said he spent his time at Otford decadently despite the pestilence sweeping the globe.

In 1514, Archbishop William Warham replaced the existing ecclesiastical building with the earliest fabulous formations of Otford Palace. In 1519, King Henry VIII stayed at the palace. He hunted in the great deer park of the estate and is said to have enjoyed it so much that he returned just a year later on his route to the famous field of cloth and gold meeting with King Francis in France. The palace, said to rival even Hampton Court, was eventually gifted to Henry in 1537 by Archbishop Thomas Cranmer.

As a princess, Bloody Mary spent a year at the palace, avoiding the political and religious turmoil which had arisen due to Henry’s separation from her mother, Catherine of Aragon. When Henry died, the palace fell to ruin. Elizabeth I had no interest in the monumental historic house and it was mostly broken up for the scattered building of surrounding projects.

To begin our investigations, we explored the neighbourhood, witnessing the beautiful cosy homesteads now occupying the ancient site. Parking was fairly easy to find, and the pavements all seemed to lead invitingly to the centre of the phantom palace. Audrey had dozed off en route, so our arrival at the palace was met with some opposition by a slightly grumpy, seriously snoozy little explorer. Her spirits soon soared as we spied the enticing nature trails and splendid palace remains.

The surviving structures include the north-west tower, the lower storey of an adjoining gallery and a fragment of the great gatehouse with further sections of wall appearing in private gardens. The size of the whole complex covers around four acres. As ever, Bramble led the way, carefully sniffing out any potential dangers as we approached. Most of the palace site is now a communal garden area, particularly the old courtyard. It is delightfully maintained, with a sweet scented orchard and grassy fields full of wild flowers to wistfully wander through at your leisure.

The remains of the palace itself were a ghostly delight to explore. Though limited remnants survive, they offer a good indication of what would once have been a spectacular sight, contemporary Tudor architecture at its finest. We casually covered the limits of the public spaces, making our way past countless period homes renovated and renewed to house the modern occupants of Otford. We detoured through the atmospheric cemetery and imposing church back to the village centre. The village was quiet, the air fresh and calm. It was a dreamy little stroll through a world straight from the pages of a fantasy novel.

Our reconnaissance complete, notes and photographs taken and exploration enjoyed, we decided to call it a day. In usual circumstances, we would have dropped into one of the delightful public houses for a celebratory drink. This being the year of pandemic however, we made the sensible decision to settle for a quick stop at the local shop for some cold beers and snacks before heading home.

It was clear this beautiful little picturesque piece of England would have made for spectacular TV. Its vibrant history coupled with stunning scenic splendour was made to fuel the imagination of the world. No doubt, the phantoms and enchantment of Otford will one day captivate countless communities on a similar scale to that which its predecessors entertained, for now, it remains a perfect tranquil escape with a wondrous past.

Beam Me Up Scotney!

Sometimes, you just have to find a place that sells Ice Cream.

This was our mantra today.

Sometimes... you just HAVE to find a place that sells Vegan Ice Cream!

That was our challenge.

We had heard whispers of a nearby fortification, ancient and glorious. It was within our reach, it would be a challenge to hammer down the battlements, to storm the towers, to take the castle, but we were prepared for action.

Audrey was the keenest amongst us, no doubt a cauldron of ambitions arising from the sweet cool promise of ice cream, and curious rumours of her ever elusive rainbow stone, hidden in the grounds of the famous manorial seat. She spurred the way, corralling Emily Archaeomum, Bramble and I into our trusty transport and en route to Scotney Castle.

As things currently stand during our troubling world situation, access to the National Trust Property is somewhat restricted. A pre-booking system is required to secure a place in the castle car park. This however, is easily achieved online and completely free to National Trust members.

The new Scotney Castle was built in 1837 by Edward Hussey III in the Tudor Revival architectural style. It was crafted from sandstone, quarried from the grounds of the old castle. Within that same quarry, now a spectacular garden, we later discovered that a 100 million-year-old impression of an Iguanodon dinosaur footprint can be found. Audrey has already expressed her desire to return and find this magnificent marvel

It is rumoured the Hussey family were great hoarders. There is little doubt that unlimited treasures are stacked beyond the imposing walls of the grand mansion, fascinating artefacts just waiting to be discovered. Indeed it is said there is even a secret door in the library disguised as a bookcase. Such intriguing mysteries tantalised our imaginations. Sadly, thanks to the continuing pandemic, the doors were firmly closed to us on this occasion. There was, however, still plenty to see.

Edward Hussey III also influenced the design of the estate, hiring architect Anthony Salvin and gardener William Sawrey Gilpin to design the spectacular picturesque garden, cleverly incorporating the original medieval castle.

As we gradually descended from the lavish authoritative mansion, we found ourselves transported into an entirely different world. The atmosphere of serious power and wealth seemed to melt away as we stepped through thick foliage into a secret universe of imaginative wonder. The old medieval castle emerged from the stunningly sculpted gardens of rhododendrons and azaleas, wisteria, hydrangea and English rose. The picturesque landscape was like something from a dream, a secret fairytale world far beyond our own, disguised by great forested hills and spectacular scenic fields.

Scotney Old Castle sits in the valley of the River Bewl at the centre of a small lake, offering a natural moat for defence. A history of occupation in the area of the moated manor house dates back to 1137 when Lambert De Scoteni owned the estate. The castle itself was built later by Roger Ashburnham, between 1378 and 1380 and saw several reconstructions and renovations through the centuries.

Amongst the many intriguing tales of the castle is that of father Richard Blount. Between 1591 and 1598, the castle owner, Thomas Darrell, hid the Jesuit father in the castle whilst he ministered illegal catholic sermons. Authorities raided the castle to arrest the priest, but the holy man fled over a wall, into the moat and escaped persecution. There have been a number of hidden priest holes discovered amongst the ruin, illustrating its continued importance during these tumultuous religious oppositions.

We circumnavigated the mystical ruin, delving inside for a brief glance around its ancient walls before following a quiet path leading to the lush wilderness beyond. As if to amplify our immersion in the dream-like experience of the fantasy landscape, a brave Kestrel considered us from on high, its ancient eyes peering curiously from the bright blue heavens above. It observed our every move from its perch on a spindly limb-like branch of an eerie tree. Crickets chirped from the long flowing grass on all sides. Butterflies danced before our eyes, birds sang sweetly from clusters of brazen trees.

The Kestrel watched.

We made our way back towards the castle, back towards the impressive manor house. From this new aspect it was clearly a commanding seat of power at the crest of the hill. Audrey spied a number of pebbles, some with intriguing colours akin to the rainbow stone, but none with all the particular qualities of that most elusive treasure.

Still the Kestrel followed. Still the Kestrel Watched.

Back in the smart and lavish house grounds, we found a delightful little cafe. In safe socially distanced comfort we enjoyed a locally brewed beer, a cup of tea, and most importantly... a refreshing, sweet, tasty vegan ice cream! Our family weekend mission was complete.

By the time the purring engine of our trusty car was turned on, Audrey had drifted into a pleasant dream filled slumber, no doubt discovering her hidden treasures within the fairytale fantasy world we had just experienced.

Scotney Castle, we will most definitely be back soon.

Sunbathed at Bayham Old Abbey

The golden glow of the sun blazed down from glorious baby blue skies, the day was young and full of promise. Our regular work was done for the week and our roving minds were set firmly on adventure!

Our first ambition had been to complete an archaeological survey of a nearby reservoir. Emily Archaeomum has recently created the reservoir otters, an archaeological survey team with a free downloadable family kit to record erosion and features in reservoirs around the world.

We wistfully imagined a gentle meander around a local body of wondrous water, introducing Audrey to the world of marine-influenced archaeological recording whilst splashing about and hunting for the elusive rainbow stone.

Sadly, the reality was somewhat disappointing. Hordes of revellers with a similar idea had arrived at Bewl Water in their droves to enjoy the beautiful blue lagoon in the bright summer sunshine. The car park required a £5 fee to park and spaces were few. After an unsuccessful circumnavigation of the reservoir by car, pressing for a quieter corner, and an unfortunate tyre brush with a rather high kerb, we eventually abandoned the idea completely.

With public restrictions still in place and social contact not recommended, we opted for a lesser frequented spectacle than the beach or the reservoir, realising that all of these places were certain to be swelling with excitable leisure seekers in the sweet summer warmth.

Fortunately, in our midst, we are surrounded by stunning sights, ancient wonders and the remains of tantalising historic architecture. Our lovely locale is brimming with intrigue and spectacular stories. Glancing over our trusty OS map for inspiration, we came across a potential spot of gothic wonderment, visual majesty and immersive enjoyment; a destination with a spiritual foundation and of course, a good spot for a picnic.

Bayham Abbey is nestled in the heart of the valley of the River Teise, on the Kent Sussex border. The area is naturally blessed with picturesque surroundings and luscious forested countryside in all directions.

The Abbey was founded in 1207 by Premonstratensian ‘White Canons’ who followed a life ascribed to St Augustine. Impressively crafted from local golden sandstone, the remains are quite extensive, including a church, chapterhouse and the stone frameworks of three enormous arched windows of the nave. The Abbey was perfectly placed to benefit from the natural environment, with the river providing a regular water supply.

In its later years, Henry VIII took control of the estate following the dissolution of the monasteries in the 16th century. His daughter, Queen Elizabeth sold the estate and it fell into the hands of Sir John Pratt. The Camden family, descendants of Sir Pratt, built a family mansion, the Dower House, or Bayham Old Abbey House, next to the abbey, a luxurious 18th century Gothic manor which remains on the site today. In the 19th century the grounds were landscaped by Humphrey Repton whose phenomenal works included the gardens at Kenwood House in London. The Abbey ruins were partly modified during this period to offer a more romantic landscape. Bayham Abbey remained in the Camden family until 1961 when it was donated to English Heritage.

The first challenge was the driveway, which requires careful navigation as the narrow roadway has space for only one vehicle at a time and a sharp turn at about the halfway point, making it difficult to spot oncoming traffic. A few reversals later and we parked up to unload our adventure gear.

It is free to enter and wander amongst the Abbey ruins, though there is a very reasonable £2 car parking charge for non-English Heritage members, the proceeds of which appear to go to the upkeep of the amazing monument and surrounding grounds. Dogs on a lead are very welcome and the only time restrictions were it’s opening and closing hours. To our utter delight, just a handful of others had chosen the day to explore the ruins, which meant lots of space for quiet reflection.

We embarked upon our adventure around the ruins, Audrey eager as always to investigate every inch of the mammoth complex. We were well aware the rainbow stone could be effectively disguised amongst the ruinous remains, with a keen eye and her trusty sidekick Bramble; she carefully explored every corner of the potential treasure trove.

The bright beating sun continued to dispense its life-giving gifts as we wandered joyously through stone alleys and cavernous cloisters. We found a quiet spot by the Kentish Gatehouse to unravel the picnic blanket and enjoy our lunch. Emily and Audrey continued their explorations whilst Bramble and I lazed luxuriously on the luscious green grass, enjoying our Hasselback potatoes and spiced shroomdogs... and a cold beer of course.

A shout from across the Abbey indicated we had completely lost track of time and the gates were about to close. Our utter contentment relaxing in the Abbey gardens had made the minutes accelerate at a breakneck pace.

Audrey discovered an incredible specimen of rainbow leaf... surely an indicator her mission for the rainbow stone was gaining momentum. We swiftly shoved our possessions into the cool box, took a final enraptured glance at the enchanting Abbey and dashed for the car. It was time to head for home.

The forgotten Prince of Burma - A British Library Investigation

Dearest Emily,

I trust you have been deep in discoveries of late, your last letter spoke of such wondrous archaeological expeditions throughout our fascinating little island. I cannot wait to hear all about your adventures very soon. As for me, my immersion into the collections I maintain at the British Library continues. This is perhaps my most astounding revelation to date, I can’t wait to share it with you.

The rollercoaster race for Royalty in 19th century Burma is well documented in British Library collections. As well as printed biographies in English and Burmese language, the India Office records contain a mass of correspondence, reports and private papers pertaining to British operations in Burma, particularly regarding the reign and dethronement of King Thibaw, Burma’s last king.

Some of these tumultuous tales are lesser known than others. An album of Photographic illustrations chronologically recounts a remarkable journey through the recently annexed country by a British expeditionary force. Within this document is an intriguing tale of daring escapes, hidden identities, attempted revolution and a long-forgotten prince.

King Thibaw ascended the Burmese throne aged just 19. His rise to power was shrouded in brutality, as was typical of Burmese royal transitions in the age. British soldiers transmitted tales of convicts trampled to death by elephants, the beheading of unsatisfactory palace staff for minuscule mistakes and the massacre of Thibaw’s entire Royal lineage, a feat most likely orchestrated by the Queen Mother and Thibaw’s wife and half-sister, Suphayalat, to secure his place on the throne.

The princes and princesses of Burma had been summoned to Mandalay Palace, to attend the death bed of King Mindon. As each arrived, they were cruelly executed and buried in the palace grounds. Over 70 family members and potential rivals were eradicated.

The Photographic illustrations of the Mandalay & Upper Burma Expeditionary Force, taken and compiled by cavalry officer Robert Blackall Graham between 1886-7, told of two princes who survived the massacre.  Prince Moung Peng, grandson of King Mindon and his older brother were rescued from the plot by Phongyi’s.

A Phongyi was a Buddhist Monk. They dressed in an orange robe wrapped around the body, usually thrown over the left shoulder. Their heads were shaven and always uncovered and they carried a palm-leaf fan for protection from the sun. A Phongyi lived on charity, taught the young and lived a life of devotion, in order to be absorbed into the divine essence.

The princes were spirited from danger and hidden in temples amongst the Phongyi’s, disguised as priests for many years until the British suppression of Mandalay meant the immediate danger to their lives had subsided. They resided in Ava for a while, but after mistreatment by his older brother, Moung Peng sought refuge with his former protectors in Mandalay.

A wise astrologer prophesied that Moung Peng would one day be returned to the Burmese throne. In December of 1886, the prophecy was used as justification to rebel against the invading British forces and Moung Peng became the focus of a botched coup. A plot was arranged to set four fires in Mandalay and draw the British forces into a trap. One of the fires was mistakenly lit before the arranged date, revealing the entire plan to the occupying armies.

The instigators of the plot, amongst them two senior Burman monks and several priests, were transported for life to the penal colonies in the Andaman’s where confinement was the least of the punishments they could expect. Torture, starvation, medical testing and murder were amongst the brutal regimes of these remote British fortresses.

Prince Moung Peng, aged just 13, was sent to Dr Marks School, a Christian mission in Rangoon. The British aimed to condition the prince in a secure environment and remove any threat he might pose to their control in Burma. His eventual fate is unclear, but he never fulfilled the prophecy to become the King of Burma.

Craig Campbell

Curatorial Support Officer

India Office Records

The British Library

Further Reading:

Photo 996 - Photographic illustrations, with descriptions of Mandalay & Upper Burmah Expeditionary Force, 1886-87. By a cavalry officer. Photographer(s): Graham, Robert Blackall

Photo 996 (56) - Prince Moung Peng [Mandalay]. Photographer: Graham, Robert Blackall - 1887

Portrait of Moung Peng, a grandson of King Mindon Min, here seen seated in a royal carriage. After the British occupation of Upper Burma, he became part of a conspiracy to regain power and oust the British. He was later sent to study under Dr Marks at Rangoon. At the time of the taking of this photograph he was aged thirteen.

Englishman’s Overland Mail; 01 February 1887; pp 9-10 – Special Telegram from our correspondents: Rangoona Jan 28

Available on Find My Past                                                            https://www.findmypast.co.uk/

(While within British Library you have access to certain records through a partnership with Findmypast)

Mss Eur F595/8/16 - Confidential India Office Note on the relations between the Government of India and Upper Burma during the present King's Reign [Thibaw Min, King of Burma 1878-1885]: India Office Records and Private Papers

Or 14963 - [Scenes of British deposition of King Thibaw]: Oriental Manuscripts

Mss Eur E290 - Papers of Col Sir Edward Sladen, Madras Army 1849, British Burma Commission 1856-86: India Office Records and Private Papers

V 16959; X.800/6024 - Deposed King Thibaw of Burma, in India, 1885-1916 / W.S. Desai. Bombay : Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan, 1967.

DRT ELD.DS.450930 - The king in exile : the fall of the royal family of Burma / Sudha Shah. New Delhi : HarperCollins Publishers India, a joint venture with the India Today Group, 2012.

09059.aa.45; T 2865; X7/1536 - They reigned in Mandalay / E.C.V. Foucar. London : Dennis Dobson, 1946.

RITUAL REVELATIONS IN THE WEST KENT DOWNS - part 2

The next barrow sites were not a great distance as the crow flies, but a vast forest and dangerous highway separated us from the sacred monuments and with our loaded provisions and entourage of varying ability, we would probably not have been able to succeed on foot. First on the list was Addington Long Barrow. We loaded the car and made our way through winding country roads, cute village outposts and blissful scenic spaces until we discovered the sought-after side road, well off the beaten track.

Addington is another sub rectangular Long Barrow of the Medway Megalith style.  It was probably built during the early Neolithic period and has since been vastly damaged, but is still recognisable as a significant prehistoric monument. The most troubling aspect of the Addington Long Barrow is the road which has been constructed directly through the centre of the mound. Collapsed kerb stones in the northeast of the structure would likely have been the space for deposition of human remains, though none were ever discovered within the tomb. The Long Barrow itself is on private land and is only visible from the roadside, but is still worth seeing, though severe caution is suggested when viewing from the narrow winding road.

The last of the substantial Medway Megaliths on the west side of the river in this incredible landscape is Chestnuts Long Barrow. This prehistoric monument is found very close to Addington, a mere 150 feet away. Chestnuts, though, is further into the aforementioned private land, engulfed by leafy trees and thick shrubbery and utterly impossible to approach without some questionable law-breaking. Keen to avoid invading private land or inviting potential criminal prosecution, we made the disappointing decision not to pursue this objective any further. Having established the monument was definitely not visible from the road and after enduring abuse from some of the roadside plant-life; we hopped back into the car and set a course for the final destination of our adventure.

By this point, Audrey had collected a number of intriguing stones for investigation.  Though not the elusive Rainbow Stone she desired, these were certainly related artefacts and would offer vital information into the whereabouts of her target treasure.

Aylesford is a pretty little riverside village just northwest of Maidstone in Kent, with delightfully crooked old buildings and enticing traditional public houses.  At the peak of the hill which adorns the historic village is a striking Norman church, wonderfully encircled by a charismatic gothic graveyard.

We were here on the hunt for a high-status late Iron Age cemetery located in the area. In 1886 the site was excavated by renowned antiquarian Arthur Evans, famed for his incredible discoveries in Crete at the Palace of Knossos, a ruin he excitedly exclaimed was that of King Minos mythical Labyrinth. The late Iron Age cremation cemetery in Aylesford was richly furnished with spectacular grave goods including bronze buckets, pans and jugs, as well as wheel-thrown Belgic wares from the 1st century BC.  Discovery of this unique burial illustrated a high level of continental connectivity prior to the Roman invasion. The find was deemed so important that an entire culture, the Aylesford-Swarling culture, was named after it. There has been speculation that Aylesford was also the location of the Battle of Medway, a recorded clash between native Britain’s and invading Romans during their occupation of Britain, though there is no evidence to back up this claim.

We parked the car in an easily accessible, fee-free car park close to the village centre and set off on foot through the narrow rustic streets.  The glorious sunshine had enticed throngs of leisure seekers into the communal village spaces, parks and bridges were swarming with families and friends enjoying all manner of refreshments.

We wandered along the river, onto the high street, past the historical buildings lining the narrow roads and we climbed towards the church.  The views from the top of the hill were splendid, but we found our path restricted by the ‘no dog’ policy of the churchyard and had to skirt the most scenic areas and stick to alternative pathways.  Despite our best efforts, and many dead-end streets and alleys, we were unable to locate the area of the cemetery.  Our phone batteries had long since expired so we were wandering blindly through the village, which had its advantages but eventually proved frustrating. We gave up on the quest, satisfied with our explorations of the ancient village itself. Audrey collected some further stony specimens for her study and it was time to go.

Since we had been enjoying a period of detox, we celebrated with ice cold non-alcoholic beers and light snacks when we finally made it home.  I made the mistake of checking precisely where the Iron Age cemetery was located... we had been just meters from a decent vantage point, if only we had followed the unpromising road at the peak of the hill a little further, perhaps we would have witnessed our goal. Ah well, something to try for next time!

Ritual revelations in the West Kent Downs

Following our recent pursuit of local prehistoric pleasures, we embarked upon an ambitious plot to uncover not one, not two but three Long Barrows and discover an elite late Iron Age burial ground... all in the same day! It would prove a tantalising, testing task.

In the wild picturesque West Kent Downs near West Malling are a cluster of ancient burial chambers, much damaged but still visible in the landscape if you know where to look. We had found the incredible sites via our trusty OS map and decided we had to see them for ourselves.

As ever, our dependable transport was loaded and provisions were prepared before we set out into the luscious green hills. Audrey had instructed us on her own particular interest in this adventure. She was on the hunt for the elusive Rainbow Stone. Rarer than diamonds and rumoured to be extremely well guarded, the Rainbow Stone has lured many an intrepid adventurer for as long as records have been kept. Thus far, all have failed in this quest, but with unique treasure hunting talents and a brave and fearless spirit, Audrey was confident that this journey would yield important results.

We made our way through the cute village of Trottiscliffe. Nearby, we were able to stow the car in a secure location supplied by the amazing National Trust. The parking was free and safe, but do be warned, the car park is quite small and fairly busy so you may find yourself waiting a short while for a free space to become available.

From here, rucksacks packed and boots laced, we set off expectantly on foot. Trekking excitedly through the stunning hills, atmospheric forests and ancient earthen pathways, we approached the first of the incredible monuments on our list, Coldrum Long Barrow.

The Coldrum Sarsens have been a point of heated discussion for many centuries. Suffering significant disruption and destruction through the ages, arguments have arisen about precisely what this megalithic structure may have been. Some argued it might have been a Henge site, whilst others tussled over the style of Long Barrow it may represent. Current consensus suggests the monument is a rectangular Long Barrow, an ancient burial tomb of the Neolithic Age in use from around 4000 - 3850 BC.  Field systems were already existent in the area prior to the construction of the monument, indicating this area hosted some of Kent’s earliest farming communities. The tomb contained the bones of over 22 men, women and children of all ages from newborn to elderly.  These have been proven to be family members illustrating the close familial community of the age.

We had not planned it as such but found ourselves at Coldrum Long Barrow just hours after the summer solstice. Though the stones are cordoned off by a small wooden fence, a gathering of cheerful revellers had set themselves amongst the heart of the monument, with tents, campfires and refreshments. No doubt they had situated themselves for a fully immersive experience of the solstice sunrise within this ancient spiritual space.

We skirted the monument, enjoying the magnificent splendour of the stones, but ultimately felt slightly uncomfortable and so we were unable to dwell there for too long. It was a little bit like accidentally wandering into someone’s house whilst they were sitting down for dinner. We smiled and offered awkward apologetic greetings before briskly moving along, out of immediate sight.

It was lunchtime and we were well prepared, we had packed a delightful picnic and leaving the stunning stones of Coldrum behind, we found a secluded picturesque space in the immense landscape to sit and enjoy our refreshments. From our serene space, we curiously scanned the many scatters of natural flint, whilst Audrey desperately searched for the ever-elusive Rainbow Stone. As yet, there was no sign of it, but Audrey felt we were getting closer. Our snack time over, we ensured our picnic area was clean and made for the car. There was still much to explore, and we only had half a day left to achieve our hopeful holiday holy grail

To be continued...