Birthday PandeBodiam

I was keen to avoid too much celebration this year when it came to my birthday. I have just about lost count of the years anyway, and these days I prefer to focus on family adventures and the many exciting and enjoyable activities on my ‘to-do list’, than to celebrate another spin around the sun.

My family had other ideas however. Whilst respecting my choice to avoid wild celebrations, they were keen to do something, so after a mini celebration with gifts and cake, the Archaeograndfolks suggested we take a little trip out and explore some of the local history on our doorstep.

Armed with National Trust Autumn gift passes, we hopped in the car and pointed ourselves south. There are plenty of fascinating National Trust properties in the south east. We had recently visited Rudyard Kipling’s house, Batemans. A wonderful Jacobean house with Kipling’s original furnishings and collections, and a fantastic used book shop and café. Definitely worth a visit!

We aimed for the same general area again, with a trip to what can only be described as the ultimate in fairy-tale castles.

The landscape around Bodiam Castle in East Sussex has been considered an ideal location for settlement and industry since prehistory, and has many unique traces of activity dating to at least the Iron Age. The River Rother influenced the location of these settlements, particularly during the Roman period, when a small port town with active industry seems to have flanked the river.

The castle itself sits within the Rother valley and was not constructed until the 14th century. It has a spectacular history closely linked to the 100 Year War and a particular English Knight. Built in 1385, the castle was the home of Sir Edward Dalyngrigge, a Knight of Edward III and husband of Elizabeth, the heiress of the Wardeux family, who held the manor of Bodiam since before 1330. The couple lived in the Manor House until work on the castle was completed. Sir Edward had gained prestige and wealth as an English soldier in north-western France.

Sir Edward was given permission to “strengthen with a wall of stone and lime, and crenellate and may construct and make into a Castle his manor house of Bodyham, near the sea, in the county of Sussex, for the defence of the adjacent country, and the resistance of our enemies.” This permission was given as part of a defensive strategy against France during the 100 Year War.

Bodiam has many chambers and a number of inner courts built within its outer defensive walls. In each corner of the quadrangular castle is an imposing fortified crenelated tower. The entire castle is surrounded by a formidable moat, only accessible by a narrow wooden bridge leading to the well protected entrance gateway.

Following the death of Sir Edward Dalyngrigge, the castle passed through several generations of his family until the line became extinct. During the Wars of the Roses, the house was owned by Sir Thomas Lewknor. Sir Thomas supported the House of Lancaster who were on the losing side when Richard III of the House of York became King. Bodiam is believed to have surrendered without much resistance during the Wars, but it was returned to the Lewknor family when Henry VII of the House of Lancaster regained the Kingdom.

The castle was on the wrong side of history again during the English Civil War, as its owner, Lord Thanet, was a Royalist. Thanet was forced to sell the castle to pay for fines levied against him by Parliament. From this period onwards the castle fell out of use and became little more than a picturesque ruin.

The castle saw a number of restoration projects attempted by various owners before Lord Curzon,  1st Marquess of Kedleston and former Viceroy of India, fell in love with Bodiam upon a visit and purchased the castle and land. Curzon, a leading figure in the development of conservation policy,  continued to restore and renovate the castle until his death in 1925, when it was gifted to the National Trust for protection on behalf of the nation.

We skirted the immense murky watered moat of the castle and Audrey delighted in spotting huge fish and snoozing ducks as we crossed the bridge to the castle gate. Once under the ominous entrance tower and into the castle, we were pleasantly greeted by a very knowledgeable guide, directing our adventure and offering little bites of historical intrigue related to the imposing fortress.

There are some very peculiar marks to be found in the stone of the castle entrances and windows. These marks are thought to have been designed to ward off evil. Ritual protection marks of this type are suggestive of a fear from attack and a desire for additional supernatural protection to compliment the huge walls and strong towers of the castle.

We all clambered up narrow spiral stone staircases, leading to the towers and the chambers above. Frequent signs warned not to pick up or touch any of the bats! We would never have considered it, but it was not in fact bat season, so sadly we didn’t see any of the amazing creatures hanging out in the castle rafters.

From the towers of the castle, we soaked up the incredible landscape views. The River Rother had burst its banks and flooded much of the green valley below, blue skies dazzled in the mirror pools of flooded fields. We enjoyed these stunning sites until the wind chill forced us back down into the courtyard.

Exploring the last hidden corners of the castle, Audrey requested a loan of my wellies to dance through some epic puddles in the courtyard. I obliged and watched on as her little welly covered legs splashed through the puddles, she was bursting with laughter and delight. I however, got rather wet socks!

Finally, we bid farewell to the fairy-tale fortress and wandered across into the village where a warm fire and kind hospitality greeted us at the local pub. The pub had quite an extensive choice of vegan dinner options, so we remained for tasty food and chilled beer (hot chocolate for Audrey) before finally heading for home, exhausted, educated and another year older.

Calkenstein, Or the modern Frankensomething

The low soupy mists were slow to shift on this early Autumn morning. I awoke to the angry vibrations of a mobile phone from some dark corner of our bedroom. Not expecting any such wake up call, and struggling to see through bleary morning vision, I strained to see the culprit… Unknown Caller!

I do not often answer calls from unknown numbers. I have retained the same phone number for many years, and as such, it appears to have found its way onto endless lists of call centre criminals. Yet something about the timing of the call was curious, and before I could consider the potential dangers ahead, I had clicked the green symbol to accept the call.

To my surprise, the caller did not confront me with an awkward quizzing about some imaginary accident for which I could be due compensation, but was a low, learned voice who offered a direct introduction and some intriguing instructions. She was sharp and to the point.

There was an old house nearby, by the name of Calke Abbey. The house had a rather mysterious history and held a treasure trove of antiquarian hoarding, filled with countless trinkets of a spectacular, surreal, macabre and sinister nature. In recent weeks, a strange incident had occurred upon the nearby Staunton Harold Reservoir. The caller recounted a tale of melancholy, terror and woe.

A mournful figure had been rescued from a raft, way out in the most isolated of reservoir waters. After some time assisting the man, it became clear he was of a surprisingly intellectual nature but appeared severely troubled. When pressed, he admitted to being out so far in the wilderness pursuing what he called, a Daemon. The poor soul went on to explain how his story was connected to Calke Abbey, a terrifying and mind expanding episode in the human endeavour for godliness.

Being aware of our family interests, the lady on the phone wished for us to visit the property, hear the tale in full and explore certain objects in the Calke Abbey collections which were, he claimed, connected to the unfortunate stray.

It was an unusual time for investigations. Dark spirits are frequently abound during this season. As far back as traditions reach, All Hallows Eve has been considered a liminal period, a time when the veil between the dead and the living could be lifted. A good time to stay home and stay safe, but the call had piqued our interest and so we gathered supplies, called in reinforcements from the Archaeograndfolk and set off for Calke Abbey.

Calke Abbey is a Baroque mansion which stands on the site of an Augustinian priory, with origins in the 12th century. Following the migration of the priory Canons to Repton, the site became a subordinate cell of Repton Priory. The estate passed through several hands following the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII. The first to buy the lease for the estate was John Prest or Priest, a member of the London Grocers Company.

This is where our unfortunate drifter’s story began. For the ancient origins of the Apothecaries is tied to that of the Grocers. ‘Grossers’ had originally been responsible for the import and dealing of wholesale goods, including medicines, drugs, confectionaries, perfumes, spices and many other unique and exotic items. Since medicines in the 16th century were mostly based on imported herbs, London apothecaries and grocers were extremely familiar and as such, many of the apothecaries were members of the Grocers Company of London.

John Prest had sinister associations with such exotic imports, and it seems, a penchant for the dark arts. Our rescued gentleman spoke of secret laboratories in the deep catacombs of the estate, where Prest had dabbled in various forms of ancient magic in an attempt to reanimate the dead. His attempts had been unsuccessful, but had laid the foundations of scientific curiosity that would plague the heirs to the estate for centuries to come.

In 1585, the house was sold to extreme protestant Robert Bainbridge. Most believed that Bainbridge chosen Calke as a home knowing the parish was not under the control of a Bishop, therefore his puritan worship could remain unnoticed. According to the mysterious, recently rescued gentleman however, there was another more ominous reason for his being drawn to Calke.

Bainbridge was imprisoned in the Tower of London for disagreeing with Queen Elizabeth’s Church settlement. Whilst here, rumours spread that he was visited frequently by that most curious of characters, Dr John Dee. Dee was a mathematician, astronomer and teacher but was perhaps better known for his obsession with the occult. Our fellow claimed that Dee had been intrigued by the ancient alchemy of John Prest and between himself and Bainbridge, a plan was hatched to conduct experiments using ancient potions with modern technologies of the age. Little is known of the results, but there were unusual screams and wails witnessed on the estate over the decades following Bainbridge’s release from the Tower.

Calke Abbey eventually found its way into the hands of Henry Harpur in 1622, for the bargain price of £5350. The estate would remain in this family for twelve generations before the National Trust took over stewardship in 1985. It was Henry, 7th Baronet, who was responsible for beginning the vast collection of natural history which still adorns the house. During this period of 18th century enlightenment, the pursuit of intellectual science was considered of particular refinement and interest to many in high society. He also had a great interest in art, built a library and studied technology and society.

The fellow found adrift explained that during this period, the first glimmer of success had been attained. Henry’s so called interest in natural history combined with a fascination in modern science and technology had a more alarming objective. The gathering of corpses, the selection of anatomical literature, it all led to the same end, reanimation. The goal was gathering pace.

Following the death of Henry, 7th Baronet in a riding accident, the devout Christian, George Crew became the 8th Baronet. George focussed his mind on the community, rebuilding churches and funding new schools, ensuring better conditions for local people. He devoted his life and time to his family. He retained a passion for collecting and added many important artworks to the house. Whilst the unnatural pursuits quietened during this period, it seems they did not altogether cease, personal tragedy and family turmoil ensured the practice continued throughout the coming generations, albeit to a lesser extent. It only regained its fierce thrust in the practice upon the introduction of Sir Vauncey!

The 10th Baronet, Sir Vauncey Harpur-Crew continued the family fetish for natural history, delighting in the house gardens and adding to the already globally significant natural history collection, bringing all manner of specimens from various hunting expeditions.

Our storyteller explained how these respectable pursuits masked a far more insidious desire. To bring back a life from the dark clutches of death! And eventually, or so our drowned desolate castoff claimed, the age old desire had recently become an achievement!

Using the mass of collected artefacts and documents in the house, ancient relics of curative magic, dedicated, thorough studies of science and technology, medicines, herbs, spices, potions, literature, spells and blended with more than a little demonic ritual, a life had been wrenched from the eternal nothingness of death. Our friend on the reservoir had been hunting the demon, a demon that he himself had created. His hunt had been to no avail. The creature he had brought back to the world had taken on a will and strength of its own, and had left the poor creator in a very sorry state.

Hearing this incredible tale upon our arrival at Calke Abbey, we were keen to explore the house and discover the life producing laboratory for ourselves. Audrey led the way beneath the stone doorway and into the waiting room…

We were instantly face to face, with death.

Death was in the air and all around us. It hung on the walls in rows of severed heads and limbs. It stared back from macabre landscapes in curious glass cabinets. It was delicately stacked upon rickety shelves, masking the peeling wall paper and crumbling plaster. It was in the sombre faces of ancient portraits, each long removed from this mortal realm. Death was definitely on display. But what of life?

We continued through the incredible mansion. Dim lamp light illuminated countless stacks of curiosities covered in dust, faded paint and rusty metals, unmoved for centuries. Faces stared back from the dark, all kinds of faces, the waxy dead eyes of ancient portraits, the black hole cavities of dolls and rocking horses, the tentacled and teeth laden terrors of the insect and animal world. Libraries were stacked to the ceiling with ancient manuscripts covering every interest and intrigue of previous owners. Prehistoric weapons, items of ritual, medieval curiosities, worldwide trinkets of the macabre, all clustered together and labelled erratically. The entire house was a true cabinet of curiosities and we were gawp as if at the zoo.

Having scaled the heights of the building, we finally descended into the tombs, tunnels and catacombs. We rushed through pitch black alleys, moved delicately through old kitchens and stores where butchery was rife and the deliveries of all manner of specialist merchandise would arrive. Eventually we reached a tunnel, it was lit by candles alone and stretched hauntingly into the unknown darkness. There was no end in sight but we were informed this was where the demonic creature had been risen from its place in the underworld.

Treading carefully, we made our way through the brick lined passage, darkness engulfed us. Strange noises seemed to escape from the very stone we stood upon, the temperature seemed both blisteringly hot and freezing cold at once. We huddled close for safety and stumbled forwards, not knowing what fortune might await us. Ahead a light flickered menacingly. We picked up pace, hoping that light meant safety, desperate to retreat from the gloom and terror. As we reached the glowing chamber, we discovered the incredible miracle our host had described. The creature had returned to its place of rebirth. From the grasps of agonising death, it had risen, stronger and more wonderful than it had ever been in life. It was a spectacular site, its body and limbs renovated and conserved, the light burning bright. Rescued from the cliff edge of destruction, a survivor of death.

We gasped in unison as we looked upon… the National Trust gift shop, a testament to the heroes responsible for the resurrection of this incredible estate.

With another successful adventure complete, we enjoyed hot chocolates and cake before heading for home. If you are curious to see a corpse brought back to beautiful life, then Calke Abbey is definitely the place for you, but beware… it still seeks a bride!

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.

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...

Midsummer Meandering at Ightham Mote

Seeking solace in the summer sunshine, our little band of misfit adventurers desired open countryside and ancient homesteads for exploration. It was an opportunity to enjoy fresh air and exercise, not too far from home.

Flicking through the annals of local historic intrigue, we came across the delightfully picturesque Ightham Mote, a 14th century moated house in the Kentish countryside near Sevenoaks. Blessed with 546 acres of ancient landscape, patchworks of forest and luscious farmland, Ightham Mote is a gem, run by the National Trust and open to families throughout the year.

There is a charge for none members using the car park and a separate charge to enter the house and gardens, but most of the estates are free to wander and enjoy. We planned an adventure around the estates, as we knew Bramble was not permitted inside the house or gardens, and Audrey was very keen to take her new bike out for a spin.

The house is a beautiful romantic caricature of medieval splendour. Its wooden beams, impressive chimneys and grand turreted entrance are a tapestry of continuous additions throughout its ever evolving lifespan.

Ightham Motes earliest known owner was Thomas Cawne, a young rogue, daring soldier and cruel knight. Thomas settled at Ightham Mote with his wife and two children in around 1360. He had a history of illicit activities and suspicious dealings. His son Robert inherited the house, but Robert was later sent to the Tower of London for attempting to murder his wife.

Influential Kent family, the Haughts, owned the house in the later 14th century after marrying into the Cawne family inheritance. Their family were well connected knights, Sheriffs and even married into the monarchy. The house grew with inner and outer courtyards, reception rooms and guest accommodation added. It quickly became one of the country’s most desirable properties. In the early 16th century, Edward Haught amassed large debts and before he ended up in a debtor’s jail, he sold the house.

Courtier of Henry VII and VIII, Richard Clement purchased Ightham Mote in 1521 for £400. He added stained glass windows to the building and the remarkable painted ceiling in the guest chambers. Clement led a life of influence and illicit intrigue, having 2 wives, at least two mistresses and three illegitimate children. After his death, the estate fell to his wife, Lady Anne Grey.

The Selby’s, a family of law enforcement officers from Northumberland, controlling the borders between England and Scotland during the 16th and 17th centuries, would own Ightham Mote for nearly 300 years until the 19th century. In 1889 Sir Thomas Coyler-Ferguson bought the property and began conservation work, modernising and conducting vital repairs. He returned it to a country residence and even allowed paying visitors to the house, at 2 shillings per person.

After the sale of its contents and only narrowly being saved from destruction in the mid 20th century, it was purchased by Charles Henry Robinson, who spent three decades furnishing the property with appropriate medieval collections.  After his death, he bequeathed Ightham Mote to the National Trust, so that it could be enjoyed by all the ages.

We skirted the impressive building, peering over carefully trimmed hedges at the immaculate structure beyond. The moat glistened sweetly in the glorious sunshine, gently disguising its fearsome protective function.  Our path began to rise, spiriting us away from the stately centrepiece and into the green and dynamic surrounding countryside. It was a gradual climb on uneven gravel paths, not the easiest to navigate with a children’s bicycle, but we continued, higher and higher until our efforts were rewarded with stunning views of the Kent Downs Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty.

We walked for over an hour along the circular route, through forests, over hills, alongside streams and lagoons, taking in the wonders of nature as we went. Wildflowers sprung in all directions, bluebells, wood anemone, marsh marigold, campion, rosebay and willowherb burst into bloom amidst the oak, sweet chestnut and beech trees. It was a welcome escape from the crowded chaos of city life.

Exhausted and satisfied, we gladly made our way to the busy little cafe for refreshments. Tea and cake was thoroughly appreciated, there were vegan options aplenty and even treats for our daring puppy! Of course, in this heat, a cool refreshing beer was also a welcome sight!

Whilst some of the additional costs and restrictions make it essential to double check before visiting, the fascinating history and wondrous scenic pleasure of Ightham Mote is certainly worth the adventure.