Having travelled Britain a fair bit and with an interest in both world wars, this has to be the raunchiest memorial to the heroes lost I’ve seen. It is unexpectedly sensual but when has Wales conformed within the realms of tradition?

View of Aberystwyth War Memorial through an arched window of 

the remains of the Norman Castle

Embedded in the grounds of what was once a Norman castle—its remains available to wander around—this buxom naked beauty in bronze has ample thigh and full pert breasts. She emerges from a thicket, facing the sea front at Aberystwyth and endures every westerly gale. She is the lower ornament of the memorial.

Rising from her octagonal plinth is a tapered shaft of stone and topping this is a pretty angel adorning a billowing dress and elegant wings who is appearing to throw a laurel wreath onto the head of her companion below.

The angel is the Winged Victory and the nude below her Humanity emerging from the Horrors of War. The memorial is the work of Italian sculptor Mario Rutelli, and was erected fairly long after the close of war, in 1923. The names of both WWI and WWII dead appear on the tablets below.

By Donna Siggers

Before celebrating the end of the Falklands War, and its anniversary, and also sharing our experience this weekend of one of the epic machines of war that partook in operations I’d like to share a brief background of why the war occurred.

The Argentines built a Fort on East Falkland that was destroyed by the USS Lexington in 1832 in relation for the seizure of US seal ships in the area. In 1833, a British force expelled the remaining Argentine officials and began a military occupation. Tension intensified on 19^th March 1982 when a group of Argentine scrap metal merchants (infiltrated by Argentine Marines) raises the Argentine flag at South Georgia Island.  This act would later be identified as the first offensive action in the war. Argentine forces invaded the Falkland Islands on 2nd April 1982, Margaret Thatcher, the British Prime Minister at this time wasn’t having any of this and raised her army in defence.

During the 1982 Falklands War, Operations Black Buck one through to seven were a series of extremely long-range ground attack missions by Royal Air Force (RAF) Vulcan bombers of the RAF Waddington Wing of which only five missions were completed. The objective of these missions was to attack Port Stanley Airport and its associated defences. These raids, at almost 6,600 nautical miles were the longest-ranged bombing raids in history at that time. Staged from Ascension Island close to the Equator, the Vulcan wasn’t designed for pinpoint accuracy bombing. Instead it was designed for the cold war (and for that it was ahead of its time in technology terms). The crew of five relied on a series of eleven refuelling planes in order for theme to reach their destination and to open the bomb hatch, a series of ropes and bicycle chains to unload their bombs. It was pot-luck if they hit their target—or not.

The photos below are of one of the remaining Vulcans. They are no longer allowed to take to the skies but this one can still taxi at Southend-on-Sea Airport where it is kept and maintained. The photograph of the man between Dave and I is of air electronics officer Flt Lt Hugh Prior who was on the first and seventh Black Buck mission. It was a pleasure to both meet and listen to Flt Lt Prior speak about the first Black Buck mission, the complexities involved in why their plane went rather than the selected one initially and indeed the decisions that had to be made along the way. They were spotted on enemy radar and shot at. They hit the target—the runway—with just one bomb. Releasing them just twenty seconds later and their efforts would have been a failed mission. Brave men. The crew on that mission with Ft Lt Hugh Prior were: pilot Flt Lt Martin Withers, co-pilot Flt Lt Peter Taylor, navigator radar Flt Lt Bob Wright and navigator plotter Ft Lt Gordon Graham.

My respect to all heroes of the Falklands War 2nd April - 14 June 1982.

Recently we ventured North for work and on our way home called in on Whitby. This wasn’t without some research, of course for both Dave and I love a photo opportunity or two and our trip certainly provided it. Luckily it also provided a well-timed blog post.

Whitby Abbey was abandoned following Danish raids in 1078 but the Benedictine monk Reinfrid established a new community on the site in 1078. The structure that stands today are all that remain after Henry VIII destroyed religious buildings in his plight to destroy all that stood against his belief in divorce—Whitby was destroyed in 1539 as part of the Dissolution of the Monasteries between 1536 and 1545, when all possessions were confiscated by the crown and the building destroyed.

More lies beneath the surface of this place, however for it is one of our most important religious places. The Synod of Whitby was called here by King Oswiu of Northumberland—this was a massive debate that decided once and for all when Easter would be celebrated. This debate was attended by representatives from both sides—Roman and Celtic—Abbess Hilde hosted the meeting. The Roman Catholics won the debate and the English Church still follow their ruling to this day, as to Christians all over the world—so Happy Easter!

Whitby Abbey from across the pond

And as a little bit of fun, according to legend, you can follow the route taken by Dracula as he flees the wreckage of his ship up the cobbled pathway and into the churchyard where his grave is, and beyond into the abbey ruins.

I’ll leave it there for your imagination to run wild.

I’m a woman obsessed—not with Sir Giles

Gilbert Scott but certainly with his creation. The Red telephone box. I believe they are adorable, quintessentially British, traditional and one of our most recognised symbols remaining.

Established as a designer, Scott has a number of achievements to his belt that include Liverpool Cathedral and repair work to the Houses of Parliament (resultant from WWII). But his little telephone boxes are special in my book.

Introduced to London streets in 1926 they were only erected elsewhere under special circumstances. Only 1500 original K2 kiosks were made and only a scarce few remain today. They bore the Royal crest of King George V formed from a series of holes to provide ventilation. This style of kiosk are older and larger than the more widely used K6 telephone box and are very rare these days.

The Post Office was once responsible for public telephone boxes and in 1935 commissioned Scott to design a new kiosk to celebrate the Jubilee of King George V. The K6 Jubilee Kiosk, similar to the K2, in that’s its produced from cast iron and painted red was 25% lighter than the original  that hah weighed a ton.

By the 1930s there were 20k K6 kiosks.

Vandalism hit in the 70s and 80s and in conjunction with the aging process and a failure to repair the decline of this classic sight commenced.

2000 red boxes remain listed buildings.

We know where many ended up. Loved and repurposed for film and other such exciting happenings.

Combating depression and other mental illness is important. I’ve spent the past few weeks discussing a few subjects close to my heart. This week it gives me great pleasure to share one of our amazing experiences from last week with you—and it comes with a little history too.

In overcoming claustrophobia after brain trauma I’m able to use London’s underground which is useful but the other side of that provides leisure opportunities such as this.

Margate has been a holiday destination for many years now. Del, Rodney and Uncle Albert take their mates from the Nag's Head on a disastrous day trip there in the now classic “Only Fools and Horses” comedy. But when you begin to scratch beneath the surface  of this seaside resort destination there’s hidden history.

Margate caves, originally dug as a chalk quarry in the 17^th and 18^th centuries are an impressive sight. Consisting of a long tunnel leading to a series of chiselled archways, where you can view the original entry shaft, still showing where the ropes wore through the chalk.

Speaking with curators, who share stories with you, the mine was forgotten about until a gardener of the wealthy Margate gentleman, Francis Forster who had built his property above the site, fell through the ground and into the chalk mine below.

Forster, having moved from Northumberland, now held esteem in his new homestead for he had cold storage—for in 1807 refrigeration was rare—he could chill his wines in the ice Wells he had fashioned and created space to entertain the good and great of Margate.

Forster also commissioned artwork to be painted on the walls of his Caves. Many are still visible as they’ve been restored over the years. There have also been new paintings commissioned. These paintings weave the extraordinary history of Margate onto the walls of the cave and include drunken giants, ancient Kings and shameless smugglers... and much more.

The Manor that had once stood above, Northumberland House, has long gone. In its place stands the visitor centre, cafe and shop.

www.margatecaves.co.uk/visit

Stumbling upon grand buildings seems to be a habit of Dave’s and mine, and this one is no exception. With a little research I established that Salford Lads Club was founded in 1903 by two brothers, James and William Groves, who were from a family of local brewers partnered with Arthur William Whitnall (Groves and Whitnall Brewery). The building itself was designed by Henry Lord, who also designed the former Salford Royal Hospital and Salford Museum and Art Gallery. Now, the club wasn’t opened until a year after it was founded but it was opened by a man whose name you might recognise—Robert Baden-Powell. Baden-Powell would later become the founder of the Scout movement.

Salford Lads Club housed recreational activities and still stands today on the corner of St Ingatius Walk and Coronation Street within the Ordsall area of Salford, Greater Manchester. Change has occurred since these early days, as now both sexes are welcome through the doors. Isn’t it shocking to think, in our day and age, that they weren’t originally! (And I await the comments on my social media lol).

Through time footballers and singers graced the building with their presence, the club kept them off the streets, away from gangs and out of trouble. It was the purpose of such clubs to kept young lads off the streets, encouraging them to become good, God-fearing citizens. Local philanthropic businessmen running these institutions soon realised that in order to beat the outside attractions of gambling, street fights and other such misadventures, were in need of supplying more than simple games.

Draughts and billiards were not enough!

Excitement was in order and thus a boxing ring was installed as well as a snooker room and a gymnasium with a balcony—all features remaining at Salford to this day, which aided the building gaining its listed status in 2003 along with the original tiling that add to the beauty of the place.

Added notoriety has blessed the club—it appeared on the sleeve of The Smiths album ‘The Queen is Dead’ (sorry for the blasphemy but I’m quoting a fact here) as well as being placed third in a competition in finding Britain’s most iconic building.

Popularity seems to have been a driving force to keep the place going and during the winter months membership grew to one-thousand members, with the doors opening from 7pm until 10pm. The club help annual camp holidays from 1904, predating the first Scout camps set up by Lord Baden Powell—how cool is that!

At last—it may be, Death took spite

Or jesting only meant to fright—

He sought fo Jack night after night

The churchyards round;

And soon they met, the man and spike

In Pancras’ ground.

From Jack Hall, by Thomas Hood (1799—1845)

Old St Pancras Church Yard was, traditionally, remote and thus any self-respecting Londoner wouldn’t linger long within its grounds. Of course, this made an irresistible location for bodysnatching so lingering there in the afterlife wasn't likely to to give peace for too long either as a result!

Along with the many other lurid places and subject matters this appealed to Charles Dickens and its where his character, Jerry Cruncher took his son, Jerry Junior ‘fishing’ (that’s bodysnatching to you and me) in 'A Tale of Two Cities'.

Within the churchyard today stands The Hardy Tree. An eery sight to bestow, it exists due to the expansion of London's rail service (which saw the need of moving graves). The Tree itself is an Ash tree, planted at the time with the now unused headstones circled around it. As the tree has grown over the years, some have become embedded in its trunk in—life and death merging into a macabre beauty in some kind of gothic and gruesome monument.

Dave and I are often asked how we met and its through one of our multiple interests that happened. Both of us are historians with the subject matter crossing over through several areas. One of these is true crime and although our focus might differ, we are knowledgeable on each other’s subject areas. Cutting a long story short, we met on “The Naughty Bus”. Yes, those who aren’t in the know look a bit googly eyed at us when we share this nougat of information—and we have to explain!

First a little background on how Micky and I became acquainted, and that was through Twitter. Like many people I’ve come to know through writing, that’s often the case. He was the only person to get away with calling me “Sweets” (or any such name) and not get blocked because I sensed a genuine, loyal person and I was correct. It wasn’t long until we were both part of London Crime, a website run by Jim Fletcher. I look up to both Jim and Micky—a family outside of blood.

Colin Siggers (my dad), Micky and Myself
(my dad loves going on The Naughty Bus and meeting up with Micky)

Micky is big-hearted, always taking on charity work. He’s often seen campaigning online for individuals or groups, raising awareness and especially at Christmas, collecting gifts then stopping the bus and to hand them out to the homeless. Timing is perfect for me to blog about about Micky as this week has seen on-line auctions for the Teens Unite Cancer charity, and humanity coming to light at the generosity of those bidding, with an independent treasurer (separate from those involved raising the money) banking the funds. All monies raised get donated and a big fat cheque will be presented on a special afternoon tea bus tour on 20th February. 

Our good friend, then (my bruva from another muva) Micky Goldtooth is one in a million and The Naughty Bus belongs to him. It’s this bus you’ll need to embark if you fancy a tour of London’s East End underground naughty goings-on. Yes, that’s right, Micky and his unique team take you to hot-spot locations as they wind their way from London Liverpool Street train station towards The Blind Beggar public house.

For more information and to order tour tickets you can click the link below

Buy your tickets here

Not only do Micky and Ian McKenzie (who is the on-board historian) share their local knowledge of the Kray twins and their associates and enemies but they share their escapades—their personal experiences of London tourism. The duo will have you in stitches. Your memories will be captured by Karen, my lovely friend, but ultimately Micky’s wife.

Stopping off at The Blind Beggar, you’ll be in for more stories and a swift drink if that pleases you—it’s not forced—before heading off again towards Borough Market where the tour finishes.

Often there are on-board guests too, so that’s most definitely worth looking out for. Two that spring to mind are singer and performer Gary Driscoll, who often performs live on the bus and also Frank Portinari (who I featured on the blog a couple of week’s ago) who speaks, sharing his own stories.

Adorned with film posters and images portraying London life from the era of the Krays—and images of the brothers themselves, Micky’s tour is most certainly an attraction not to be missed. TripAdvisor reviews match my own, so next time you’re in the city, why not book up, hop on board and let Eric The Red drive you through the streets of the East End while Micky and his elite team treat you to some special stories of how the Krays and their associates operated.

by Donna Siggers

Stage plays are a guilty pleasure of mine and to have watched one in such a surreal setting, a complete honour. ‘The Old Nurse’s Story’ by Elizabeth Gaskell is a gothic ghost story set in the Northumberland moors, which first appeared in the Christmas edition of the Charles Dickens’ Magazine ‘Household Words’ in 1852. The adaptation we saw, a play based on best-selling author Piers Torday, entitled ‘The Child in the Snow’ has a more modern setting—with the boundaries of class and gender remaining from the original story the characters are thrown into the turmoil of the aftershock of both the First World War and the Spanish Flu Pandemic. With just two women on stage, we are thrust into the past (in similar style to The Woman in Black). The nurse plays both herself as a young child and her present age and the older actress plays a medium and all other characters. It’s clever, spooky and all you’d expect of a professional performance.

Wilton’s itself extends back to the 1690's, when it opened to entertain East End's working people with West End glamour. Over the years it’s served as a music hall, Methodist’s mission and now presents a programme of plays and music entertainment all year, such as I’ve described above.

Wilton’s also have a colourful history and begun life as a row of individual houses along Grace’s Alley, the largest of which being an ale house serving Scandinavian sea captains. A mahogany bar was installed in 1826 which gave call for it to be named “The Mahogany Bar” and a concert hall was installed in 1839. For a short period during 1843 the ale house ran full-length plays (legally) and was known at The Albian Saloon.

Fire would destroy the majority of the music hall in 1877, leaving only the four walls and ten barley twist columns that still support the balcony to this day. Rebuilding commenced without too much change to the original design but in in 1881 Wilton’s closed its doors—this was perhaps due to the new build not conforming to fire regulations that had been bought in that same year.

The iconic barley twist columns holding up the balcony

London’s East End became notorious for poverty, something religious organisations helped with. By 1888 Wilton’s was purchased by London’s Methodist Mission, who renamed it ‘The Mahogany Bar Mission’. Setting up a soup kitchen during the Great Dock Strike of 1889 they served a thousand meals each day to starving dockers’ families. As a Mission, the building remained open seventy years through testing times and those that served within its walls witnessed events such as The 1936 Mosley March (Battle of Cable Street) and the London Blitz. Throughout, the Methodists welcomed all without discrimination and campaigned against social abuses. They supported the community, especially those in need—and in particular children. The Mission closed in 1956.

After the war, Wilton’s was functional as a rag sorting warehouse and plans were made to demolish what buildings had been left standing in the area from all the bombing. A campaign begun, and the music hall was saved but it wasn’t until 1982 that the first repairs commenced. Although the doors didn’t open to the public until 1999, various filming took place in the meantime. What will interest a lot of my blog readers is that part of the 1990 film ‘The Krays’ staring Martin and Gary Kemp was filmed inside this incredible building. “This place used to be so great” they are of course referring to the snooker hall. If you watch that scene, the barley twists I mention above that survived the fire are clearly visible on screen. Additionally, with its walls painted red, Wilton’s became the Kray’s Regency Club ready for the cameras to capture the action.

Even Jim Henson’s Muppets have performed at Wilton's!

If you’re ever in the East End and fancy something a little different, up close and personal, then don’t forget about Wilton's Music Hall!

Fashion has been hugely important for centuries and by the 19^th century, when a women wanted to be at their most elegant it was at to communicate her grace, beauty and status. What the women of this time didn’t realise was the outfits that had become the fashion trend were most likely going to contribute to an untimely death. Under the outer fabrics, they wore crinolines—stiff petticoats that gave dresses a bell-like shape and alleviated the weight of the heavy fabrics of the outer layer of the outfit. Other materials, such as cotton and horsehair were used for dresses too. Each of the materials mentioned are highly flammable and given that lighting and heat came from open flame women were quite literally going up in them!

Poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, watched his wife, Fanny, burn alive due to her dress catching alight and Oscar Wild’s half-sisters dresses caught fire while they were dancing at a party.

Thousands of women were dying because of the clothes they wore—because of fashion. A plentiful supply of oxygen got trapped between the multiple layers of fabric deeming it impossible to extinguish the flames by a simple ‘stop, drop and roll’. Unable to undo the laces or buttons in time was another issue.

If the flammable fabrics weren’t enough, there was another danger. Green was the colour to be seen wearing and arsenic was the method of dying fabric this preferred and fashionable colour. Little did they know at the time that the chemical was poisonous but adding to the mix was the fact that when arsenic catches light, it burns toxic fumes. So, if the flames didn’t kill the woman who were alight, the fumes certainly had a chance of doing that.

Artificial flowers also became popular during this time, again arsenic was used as a colourant to make them look more authentic. Daily exposure to arsenic causes poisoning and a premature demise. Convulsions, vomiting and the whites of your eyes turning green are some symptoms, before death ensues.

There was a choice in life for working Victorian women of the time but death by fire seems pretty certain. Housekeepers were, it seems, susceptible to death by burning dresses because Victorian homes were filled with open-flames and were build from flammable materials. If servants caught fire there was a risk the whole house would burn to the ground. On the other end of the pay scale, ballerinas had to wear massive hooped dresses and perform on stages lit by naked flames. Their dresses were made from bobbinet, cotton, muslin, gauze and tarlatan (all of which are flammable). Dancers were lighting up the stage, literally, but unfortunately they were dying too!

Fashion changes over time and late in the 19^th century skirt styles became slimmer. This kept dresses out the reach of naked flames and death rates reduced.

In memory of

Private Harold Stanley Glynn

(1895-1917)

Glory to thee, as you march to Arras

Towards foreseen doom, into the unknown.

A battle too far, man to the slaughter

Bodies falling, sprits rising. Cannons blown.

Glory to thee, as you try to advance

Clouds made of smoke, the thunder of guns.

The rain that falls, not of water but blood

The women back home, losing husbands and sons.

Glory to thee, as you lay down to die

Your bodies giving up, so we might live.

Battlefields bathed in your blood

The ultimate sacrifice you could give.

Glory to thee, your spirt lives on

To the ghosts of Arras, and all of WWI

For the sacrifice you gave in that fateful battle

The lives you gave, can never be undone.

Glory to thee, as we all look back

Remembering your brave acts

For all the ghosts of Arras

And all the fallen, a poppy we bring.

Fireworks are either loved or detested but what they do have is a fascinating history

The origins of fireworks can be traced back to 7^th century China, where gunpowder was first used. Their pyrotechnic experts were of huge value to Chinese rulers who became the best war generals.

Gunpowder didn’t reach England until the 13^th century after the Arabs gained knowledge of its existence and traded it throughout Europe. Its thought, through documentation that a monk named Roger Bacon was the first English man to use gunpowder, writing “you will get thunder and lightning if you know the trick”.

Fireworks didn’t become popular in the UK until much later, they are documented as being used at King Henry VII’s wedding in 1486 but it wasn’t until the reign of Elizabeth I that they became fashionable. The Queen herself loved them so much she appointed a ‘Fire Master’ who would oversee the Royal displays.

Shakespeare, who drew on life experiences for many of his plays, mentions fireworks in many of them which is indicative they were widely used throughout his lifetime—Shakespeare also gained a mention in last years blog regarding the gunpowder plot of 1605, and, of course, we celebrate Guy Fawkes these days with fireworks displays.

The significance of using fireworks for November 5^th is that gunpowder was used in the failed plot to blow up parliament. Fireworks were not part of the celebrations until the 1659’s.

Seven million bricks, made from clay excavated from the nearby village of Bures, were used in the

construction of Chappel Viaduct in Essex. Built to carry a double-track railway, just one was laid. Peter Bruff built this amazing viaduct between 1847 and 1849 for the Colchester, Stour Valley, Sudbury & Halstead Railway and, later, part of the Great Eastern Railway.

Historic Britain state the construction cost of building this elaborate bridge to have been £32,000 although there are differing sources who claim lesser costs were involved.

Initial plans were to build this structure from laminated timber but after debating cost benefits of brick with the Great Western Railway’s chief engineer, Isambard Kingdom Brunel after a lecture at the Institution of Civil Engineers (Brunel being strongly in favour of using timber).

Each pier of the viaduct is numbered—pier 21 contains a foundation stone laid by the railway company’s chairman and deputy chairman at the commencement of works in September 1847. Newly minted coins were placed inside as a souvenir. The stone and coins disappeared within a few hours of being placed and a bricklayer was later arrested after trying to pay with new half sovereigns at a bar. He wasn’t convicted due to lack of evidence.

The viaduct at Chappel, Essex showing the arches, looking through the centre of the shafts
and bottom left, a phone box library (you can just make out the arches in the distance

Consisting of 32, 30 foot (9.1m) semi-circular spans with tapered piers Chappel Viaduct is 1,060 feet (or 320m) long. Rising to a maximum height of 75 feet (23m). Each pier consists of two shafts that are separated by a 6 foot (2m) opening, joined at the top and bottom by arches. Each shaft contains a hollow void of up to 4 feet (1.2m) by 3 feet (1m) which is partially filled with concrete to the level of the bottom arch. The running level of the viaduct gradient of 1 in 120.

The viaduct was designated a Grade II listed structure on 27 November 1967 and is the longest bridge in East Anglia.

Londinium  was established along the river Thames by the Romans around 50AD, it later became a major trading and ship building area for the Saxons, Normans and Tudors. It wasn’t until the 16^th century that it became the centre of shipbuilding and repair. In 1558 a commission was set up to select legal quays for imports and by 1576 London was the world’s first trading port.

Within two centuries London was unable to cope with the trade entering and Parliament authorised the building of two new docks and warehousing on the Isle of Dogs that opened in August 1802. Approval of more docks followed, which saw the East India Dock, Millwall Dock and the Royal Albert Docks.

Trade flourished but by the end of the 19^th century improvement works was required and without a clear way forward a Royal Commission conducted a governing review. A report issued in June 1902 recommended creating a central body—the Port of London Authority—who begun duties on 31^st March 1909, they have been obliged to provide quays, wharfs and warehousing since.

The Thames and London’s Docks suffered heavily during WWII, with bombs falling on the heavily targeted river from 1919 until late 1941. Almost 900 missiles, as well thousands of incendiary bombs fell on PLA property.

Post-war reconstruction was competed and in 1964 trade topped 61m tonnes but the introduction of container shipping had a drastic effect and subsequently the docks fell into economic decline.

Today the PLA is responsible for maintaining river channels for navigation, moorings, lights and buoys and in providing a wide range of services for shipping including pilotage services.

Trafalgar Square, in London, opened to the public in 1844 in remembrance of Admiral Horatio Nelson's victory over the French Fleet of the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805.

Celebrations of this momentous victory were muted when news of Nelson’s death reached England—he was shot by a French sniper in the back during the battle. It was from this point in our history that it was decreed English citizens would have the right of free speech. Trafalgar Square became the location to demonstrate that right—freeborn English men and women gathered in order to protest in ever increasing numbers throughout the second half of the 19^th century. This hadn’t been the establishment's intention, the right they gave for free speech wasn’t an intention to declare the right to protest.

After events such as The Bloody Sunday Riots (1887) there was careful consideration on how The Metropolitan Police could uphold the law and keep a better eye on unfolding situations when ‘revolting peasants’ (as they were known at the time) gathered on Trafalgar Square to make their displeasure known against the inequalities of the age.

Many methods were discussed and tested at the end of the 19^th century  to aide the authorities to control of the masses. Ultimately what was required was a watchful eye on the situation before it unfolded. A temporary police box was erected before the outbreak of WWI but during the General Strike of 1926 it was decided a permanent fixture should be instated which, as you might imagine, was met with public uproar.

Sir Lionel Edwards had a light bulb and innovative idea in 1927 and work commenced to hollow out the south-east corner concrete plinth on the square. From within the cavity a police officer could watch the activity of Trafalgar Square.

The box was operational by the 1930s and equipped with a telephone line direct to Cannon Row police station, nearby. The officer inside could phone through as soon as trouble brewed. Just imagine the public response as its said as soon as the receiver was picked up the light above the box flashed to inform passing officers help was required! Who would want to be on duty and have that responsibility?

So, over to you. London's smallest police station, a police box or is it an observation box? This structure has been described as each.

Francis Crittall was known as ‘The Guv’nor by his workforce. Not only did he have a vision in business as an industrial pioneer but one to provide for those who worked for him in his window factory. Building commenced in 1926 and within six years Silver End Village had been built. There was also a department store that opened in 1928, within it there were twenty-six varying departments under one roof. Unfortunately, the original building burned down in 1951. The building that stands in its place is where the Co-op and adjacent shops now serve the community.

Francis Crittall's House, park gates and one of the designs at the far end of Silver End village

Community was the centre of Crittall’s priority when planning his village. The village hall boasted a dance floor, cinema, library, snooker room and also a health clinic and is the largest village hall in the UK. He employed modernist architects to design the buildings, which still stand out as striking in design today. The houses on Francis Way and Silver Street were, for example, designed by Thomas S Tait who was an influential Scottish architect—a leading designer of Art Deco and Streamline Moderne buildings in the 20^th Century. He is also credited with designing the concrete pylons on Sydney Harbour Bridge.

Major production of the original Crittall site ceased in 2006 when the factory was closed down. However window frames are still manufactured at a Crittall factory in Witham.

Little employment exists in Silver End rendering it essentially a dormitory village. Any new dwellings are subject to the Article Four Direction (Town and Country Planning Act 1990) which was served in 1983. This has removed ‘Permitted Development’ rights for replacement windows, doors etc on the dwelling houses inside the Conservation Area which prevents further inappropriate alterations.

Silver End is a village that stands still in time.

Mentioned in the Domesday Book (1086) Gravesend in Kent has been on the map for quite sometime. Back then it was in the hands of Bishop Odo of Bayeux, the half brother of William The Conquer. Gravesend is located near the route of the old Roman road of Watling Street, linking London and south eastern Kent. One theory behind the name ‘Gravesend’ is its likely to have originated from ‘grafs-ham’—the home of the reeve of the bailiff of the Lord of the Manor. Another, that ‘graf-ham’ means ‘at the end of the grave’ and derives from the Saxon ‘Gerevesent, the end of the authority of the Portreeve (which was the Chief Town Administrator).

Although this is all interesting, what drew us into Gravesend? That’s simple.

Pocahontas.

Princess Pocahontas Statue, St George's Church, Gravesend

Yes, you read correctly. A statue Princess Pocahontas stands proud at St George’s Church in Gravesend, erected to mark the four-hundred-year anniversary of her death. But why the Gravesend connection to Jamestown princess?

Pocahontas had saved the life of her colony leader, Capt John Smith by pleading with the people to spare his life. Converting to Christianity and marrying another settler she changed her name to Rebecca Rolfe. During a propaganda tour to England designed to raise much required monies for their struggling colony Pocahontas fell ill. It’s believed she had either tuberculosis or flu and when the ship she was travelling on docked at Gravesend she was taken ashore. Such diseases were unknown to the colony and thus their people had no immunity to them. Pocahontas, it’s believed, was only around 23 when she died.

Buried at St George’s Church in Gravesend, Pocahontas’ grave was lost during the fire that destroyed the site in the 18^th century. The statue that stands in the grounds of the new church echoes the one in honour of her in Jamestown and was built in 1975.

A second memorial to the settlers, in the form of a brass plaque, was on the dockmaster’s house at Blackwall Quay. It commemorates the 105 settlers who left for Virginia in three small ships: The Susan Constant, The Godspeed and Discovery, 1606. Struck with famine and disease along with battles with the native Americans. Just sixty remained after three years. James Rolfe, with seeds of the tobacco plant arrived in 1610, which would become Virginia’s most famous crop. Rolf became Pocahontas’ husband.

Destroyed in the blitz, the plaque is now fixed to a stone monument.

Used for pleasure and as the RNLI lifeboat station, Southend Pier is the longest in the world. Designed by James Brunlees, this 2,2158m construction consists of hardwood decking upon iron piles and was opened in 1830. The original construction, however, was first opened in 1830 after receiving Royal Assent the previous year and was of complete wooden structure. Southend was the first pier to operate a railway in Britain, which opened in the early 1890’s.

West Beach and Pier Pavilion, Southend on Sea (1900s)

Southend Pier played a part in both World Wars. During WWI three ships were moored off the pierhead, one held German soldiers captured in France and the other two held civilians. Remarkedly, the pier remained open for recreation.

During WWII the pier was taken over by the Navy, renamed HMS Leigh and was closed to the public. In November 1939 a ninety-minute air raid was deferred by the pier’s defenders. 84,000 ships passed Southend in total, with only one casualty—SS Richard Montgomery and we have blogged about this ship already [here].

Post war, the pier flourished for several years but in 1959 a fire destroyed the pavilion which was located at the shore end. Five-hundred people were trapped and in need of rescue, which happened by boat. The pavilion was replaced by a ten-pin bowling alley and holidaying to Southend reached was reaching its heyday.

As holidaymakers turned to package holidays abroad, Southend like many other British seaside towns begun to decline and the pier run into disrepair. Several fires later and by 1980, the council announced its plans to close the pier. Protesters battled to keep it open.

Fire has destroyed parts of the pier several times, and in October 2005 it caused significant damage to the old pierhead and surrounding structures. By 1^st December of the same year, it had reopened to the public once again and by 2007 had won pier of the year.

Southend seafront has seen considerable investment and regeneration over the past few years, and in our opinion is worthy of a visit!

One of the places we like to take a walk is Tilbury as it en-route between our two homes. The history of the place is truly  and every time we visit, there are new discoveries to be made and we thought you’d like a taster of what we found out from our last visit.

Interestingly, the first defences in Tilbury were built during the late Middle Ages to defend against a French attack and there has been a timber jetty at this location since this time, often being destroyed and then rebuilt. The defences consisted of towers and earthworks. Under the reign of Henry VIII, a blockhouse was built which formed part of our costal defence scheme. This stood near the site of a radar tower that served our coast during WWII—incidentally, the radar tower still stands and was marked on maps of the time as a ‘water tower’ to distract the purpose of its use. Built in 1540, the blockhouse would have held fifteen cannons, which were updated to twenty-seven guns just seven years and had guns a range of one mile.

During the Victorian Era, a jetty was built on the same site, allowing barges to unload supplies and armaments. As you can see from the images we took, some of the wooden structures still stand from what was the railway link.

Remains of the jetty at Coalhouse

Tilbury has an interesting history—once an important gateway to the capital for temporary visitors on liners it also received one of its most important ones back on 9^th August 1588. Queen Elizabeth I sailed from London to review her forces who were in preparation to repel the Spanish Armada. Stepping ashore at Tilbury Fort, a short distance from this site, the original building of which her father—Henry VIII—had built as a defence against the French and Spanish, and that had been extended during her reign, our monarch (due to the marshy terrain) travelled up the hill to what is now the modern village of West Tilbury. Local historians have identified the location of Queen Elizabeth’s speech as having taken place in a field next door to the parish church of Chadwell St Mary.

Famously, the speech she made at this location included these words, “…I know I have the body but of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king…”

Tilbury Fort bears little resemblance now to the structure Elizabeth I would have seen. Aware of the threat of a Dutch invasion of the capital, Charles II ordered a review of the coastal defences, and the fort was remodeled into its present pentagonal shape, with a double moat. Ironically, given the threat from the Netherlands, the architect was a Dutchman. Other forts were constructed on this vital stretch of the Thames, where the river makes two 90-degree turns. If the artillery from one failed to deter an invader, there were other opportunities to repel the attack.

Four miles along the riverbank, still on the Essex side and near the village of East Tilbury, the Victorians built Coalhouse Fort. Although by the time it was completed the threat of invasion was over, its construction was overseen by a Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon, a job he found less to his taste than his later role in Khartoum. Coalhouse Fort was extended during the First World War, and again in the Second. Extra layers were added to the structure, and large searchlights were installed upon the roof.

Coalhouse Fort WWII Tower

After years of economic decline there are signs of regeneration, and a growing pride in the area and its heritage. A path, part historical and part wildlife trail is also being developed. When this is finalised the ‘Two Forts Way’ will provide a four-mile walk between the forts: or for those less interested in history, between the pubs next to each.

Coalhouse Fort holds open days, and if a lottery bid succeeds, there will be major renovations. There are no plans as yet to open the grand old Tilbury cruise terminal to the public, but the restaurant is being refurbished and will soon reopen as Tilbury Riverside, a local arts activity center, so there is a lot happening for the future regeneration of this wonderful place.

Thirteen-hundred years ago the Christian faith was being spread throughout Ireland and Scotland. Patrick, in Ireland, had established many monasteries and from there Columba had come to Iona (a tiny island off the west coast of Scotland) where a monastery and other Christian centres were established. From this first Scottish monastery, a man called Aidan was sent, by invitation of King Oswald of Northumbria to set up a monastery at Lindisfarne on the north-east coast. This monastery would also become a school where Anglo-Saxon boys could be trained to become priests and missionaries. It was here that Cedd and his and his brothers Caelin, Cynebil and Chad learnt to read and write in Latin and learnt to teach the Christian faith.

Cedd, after being ordained as a priest later became a bishop. His first mission was to travel to Mercia (the midlands) by request of his ruler, King Paeda, which was a successful mission. After hearing of this success, King Sigbert of the Essex Saxons asked for a similar mission—for Cedd to travel to Essex and teach the Christian faith.

In 653, Cedd sailed down the east coast of England from Lindisfarne to Bradwell, where he found ruins of an old deserted Roman fort. It’s believed he built a small wooden church which was soon replaced by the plentiful stone from the fort, providing a much more permanent building.

The chapel still stands today.

Greatly influenced by the architecture of the churches in Egypt and Syria, Cedd modelled this church in this style. Build on what was called the River Pant (now the River Blackwater) we know that St Anthony of Egypt had built his church from the ruins of a fort on the banks of a river in the same way as Cedd.

Due to the success of Cedd’s mission to the East Saxons he was recalled to Lindisfarne and made Bishop of the East Saxons the same year. His monastery at Bradwell, although simple, would also have been a church. A community of both men and women, a hospital, a library, a school, an arts centre, a farm, a guest house and a mission base. From this base he established other Christian centres at Mersea, Tilbury, Prittlewell and Upminster.

Cedd often travelled north to visit his childhood home and in 659 was introduced to King Ethelwald, who asked him to establish a monastery in Northumbria. While at this site in 664 he caught the plague as he lay dying thirty of his monks from Bradwell came to be with him. They too caught it, with only one boy surviving who returned to Bradwell.

Stepping aboard a large houseboat, as an ex-sailor, my eyebrows are raised as Dave announces, "welcome aboard the Flying Dutchman". Glancing through the windows, there's no glimmering golden mirage emerging in the distance of a ghostly ship unable to reach its harbour, nor is there a brewing storm. Instead, we’ve stepped aboard an impressive German vessel of magnificent proportions and decor. Given the history of this ship's name, we asked the owner and his daughter, Mr Smith and Michelle if we could feature The Flying Dutchman on our blog. With huge gratitude, and our utmost respect, we cannot thank them enough for agreeing.

Upon researching it became apparent there have been several boats blessed with the same name, one an international sailing champion, no less. Even a champion race and stud horse, back in the eighteen-hundreds was blessed with this name. The Flying Dutchman has featured in the Pirates of the Caribbean films, and even in the children’s TV series, SpongeBob SquarePants. Notoriously, it’s also an opera by Wagner (1843) adapted from an episode in Heinrich Heine's satirical novel The Memoirs of Mister von Schnabelewopski (Aus den Memoiren des Herrn von Schnabelewopski) (1833), in which a character attends a theatrical performance of The Flying Dutchman in Amsterdam.

This particular boat however was built back in 1957 at the German Naval shipyard, in Suellberg, along the Elbe River in Hamberg. A steel motor yacht, the Flying Dutchman was used by German customs as a patrol vessel during the Cold War, a time that nuclear threats dominated international affairs and that tension remained between East and West Germany after WWII.

The East German border was guarded by the Border Troops, (Pogranichnyie Voiska) of the Soviet NKVD (later the KGB). In 1946, the Soviets established a locally recruited paramilitary force, the German Border Police (Deutsche Grenzpolizei or DGP), under the administration of the Interior Ministry for Security of the State Frontier (Innenministerium zum Schutz der Staatsgrenze). Both the Soviet troops and the DGP shared responsibility for patrolling the border and crossing points. By 1956, the Soviets had handed border control over to the East Germans.

West German state organisations were responsible for policing the western side of the border, they included the Bundesgrenzschutz (BGS, Federal Border Protection), the Bayerische Grenzpolizei (Bavarian Border Police) and the Bundeszollverwaltung (Federal Customs Administration). Additionally, the British Army, the British Frontier Service, the United States Constabulary, and the United States Army carried out patrols and provided backup in their respective sectors of the border. The vessel we’d stepped upon was a German customs patrol boat and given the time she had been built would have been a part of this, securing West German coast. 

At some point, possibly after the Berlin Wall fell in 1989, she became a house boat and no cost was spared when she was converted. Still splendid today, it has been our great pleasure to have been aboard The Flying Dutchman and to have discovered her history. Thank you.

Hythe Quay in Maldon, Essex has already been mentioned within our blog, but it deserves a feature of its own. Home of the sailing barge that has become part of Maldon’s living heritage, many of the lovingly restored barges are still used commercially as charter vessels today. The Hythe—as the port is known—was once a separate hamlet, its skyline dominated by the town of Maldon and the prominent tower of St Mary’s Church, which was first built by Saxon settlers and then rebuilt in the twelfth century.

Maldon is special for many more reasons and is often referred to by TV chefs because if its famous salt but its also famed for much more. It hosts the infamous mud race each year, attracting many entrants, including celebrities and raises charitable funds for varying causes.

On 11^th August 991, Anglo-Saxon Men of Maldon once stood their ground. Led by Eldorman Britnorth, they formed a militia force at the causeway end of Northey Island. Vikings had settled on the island, where they’d established a temporary base having already pillaged Folkestone, Sandwich and Ipswich. They were ready to attack Maldon.

Britnorth, refusing to pay the Viking invaders to turn their ships and men around to leave instead challenged them to a battle—he even allowed them to cross the causeway between Northey Island and the mainland to do so, while they formed a human shield wall. Awaiting Viking advance, Britnorth and his militia force were pounded with arrows and, when closer, spears into their masses. Close, hand to hand bloody battle combat followed where loss on both sides was heavy. It wasn’t until the death of Britnorth himself that the battle turned in the Viking’s favour.

Why, then, has the Battle of Maldon been etched into our history when the Vikings raided England so many times? The battle itself seems insignificant in that it wasn’t the first time the Anglo-Saxons fought and lost against the Vikings. This battle, however, is referred to within medieval sources countless times, which includes an epic poem with a clear message for the Anglo-Saxon leadership. Thus, it became part of collective memory, and was the first full-scale battle during King Æthelred’s reign. It was also a signal of a troubled and complex time period.

Æthelred, although proving himself to be pro-active in foreign policy with great success after the Maldon battle, his own retainers undermined his every action to keep the Vikings out of England. They betrayed him to the Vikings or began fighting among themselves. On two occasions Æthelred lost a newly built navy due to his own men (992 and 1009) which caused his Viking enemies, especially Sweyn to persecute him, even sending him into exile until Sweyn’s death in 1014. It wasn’t until Æthelred’s own death, in 1016 that Anglo-Saxon England finally comes under the rule of a Scandinavian (Vi)king, Cnut the Great.

by Donna Siggers and David Last

Given our enjoyment of walking and in uncovering the unusual, last weekend’s walk just had to begin an investigation into the past. Coming across a road sign, Cut-A-Thwart-Lane, had the cogs in our minds working. The obvious thought was that this might mean ‘Cut Throat Lane’ and indeed there are references to this.

Donna had heard the word thwart before and it wasn’t until she had looked it up that her canoeing days bought forward a boating link to the word. Indeed, its used to describe the wooden seat that reaches from one side of a boat to another.  A thwart cut is a fencing maneuver with swords too but deeper research revealed that an old English meaning of the phrase had been used on the River Blackwater, which is just a short distance away from this lane. When crossing the line of a ship’s path—cut-a-thwart in 15^th century England meant to cross from side to side. Cut-throat, similarly, meant a short cut or to cut across, and in this case the lane was an alternative to the milestone-lined London Road that was the main route into Maldon.

Maldon had been granted a Royal Charter by Henry II in 1171 and is an ancient Anglo-Saxon burgh. From the Iron Age it has been settled in by Romans, Saxons, Vikings and Normans--and a blog for another day is that it’s the famous site of the famous Battle of Maldon fought between Vikings and the Anglo-Saxons in 991AD. It was, then, a high-profile town back in the day.

Interestingly, Cut-A-Thwart Lane shows geographic evidence suggesting it was once a hola-weg. The road, in places is much lower than the banks that flank its side, an indication of years of pounding by humans and animals long before modern road surfaces existed. Suggestive that this lane formed the boundary of the estates of Beeleigh Abbey and Fitzwalter’s Park the sunken result still floods to this day. Oliver Rackham (1939-2015) cited thirty-eight mentions of such hola-wegs in Anglo-Saxon charters, and this lane is one of those. Beeleigh (the meaning of which is a clearing in the trees where bee hives are kept) still has a magnificent dwelling very close to the entrance of the lane.

Fascinatingly, during the summer of 1550 Princess Mary (Mary Tudor, later Queen Mary I) was under house arrest at nearby Woodham Walter Hall. Her agents hatched a plan to smuggle her onto an imperial war ship that was moored at Maldon’s Hythe in order that she could escape to the Netherlands—it was believed she would have been somewhat safer there due to her religious beliefs. Sophisticated plans were made that would have avoided the main road into Maldon. Some kind of ‘secret passage’ was planned. Mary developed cold feet, possibly realising that if she gave up and fled, as a true daughter of Henry VIII, she would find her abdications of her royal prerogative hard to accept. Jehan Dubois, Secretary to the Ambassador met with Mary and liaised with her trusted officer Robert Rochester, who begged the imperial secretary for more time. Firm in his message to her, Dubois conveyed that now was the time to escape and that they had to leave immediately. She attempted to stall for more time but Dubois slipped away and the rowing boats left without her as he feared their plot was close to being discovered.

Three years later Mary ruled England, but was Cut-A-Thwart Lane their possible route?

We’d like to think so!

Rochester Castle stands proudly, overlooking the River Medway, above the bridge that became an important factor in a six week siege that not only resulted in the collapse of an entire corner of the castle but one that still effects our lives today.

A castle has stood at Rochester since the Norman Conquest of 1066. However, the great tower that stands there today dates from 1127 and was built for the Archbishop of Canterbury—William of Corbeil—who shared ownership with the crown. Standing at 125 feet (30 metres) it’s the tallest keep in the British Isles, boasting two floors above the main level and basement, which is an unusual feature. Given the latrines and comfortable chambers it was a place to entertain royalty or an Archbishop but given the situation of 1215, décor was unimportant!

Civil war had broken out between King John (1199-1216)—the one portrayed in the Robin Hood story—and the barons who forced him to seal Magna Carta in June of 1215. Forcing the Pope to decline this null, King John who was based in the South and the barons who were based in London gathered soldiers.

Unwavering to King John’s demands to hand the castle over, Archbishop Stephen Langton allowed rebel Baron William de Albini and sixty to eighty knights, their retinues, archers and crossbowmen to take possession. The aforementioned bridge across the River Medway became important ground, as taking control here gave the upper hand and this became John’s priority.

Using fire-stone throwing siege engines and master miners from the Forest of Dean, King John undermined the wall of the Bailey first, before tunnelling under the great tower. The techniques they used were rather sinister! The grease from forty slaughters pigs ‘of the kind not fit for eating’ was used as an accelerant to burn the props holding the masonry in place that had been exposed by the minors. The inferno created by the fire caused the great tower to come tumbling down and those defending Rochester Castle—the barons—to retreat. Running out of food, they had no choice but to surrender to King John who wanted each of them hung. This act of carnage was dissuaded by his own captain who wished to avoid the same fate should the tables turn.

Within a world that appears disjointed, something as simple as the symbol of a poppy can bring us together again. Its concept, born as the result of Col John McCrae’s poem ‘In Flanders Fields’, in which he wrote about the barren countryside of the Western Front and of the ‘flanders’ poppy he witnessed growing among the mud that remained amid the turmoil of war.

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae

American academic, Mona Michael, inspired by the poem made and sold the original silk poppies to commemorate those who had died in WWI. This concept was taken on by the British Legion after they formed in 1921, when they ordered nine million poppies to sell on 11^th November in support of veteran’s causes. Over £106,000 was raised and it was decided a factory should open, employing disabled ex-servicemen in order to produce poppies—which were put into full production.

Remaining our symbol of remembrance, the British Legion’s poppy appeal continues to raise millions each year for current servicemen and women across the UK.

Variations do now exist, however. For example, a purple poppy represents animals that have served during conflict. The charity, Animal Aid created the purple poppy in 2006 with the view that animals lost to war were forgotten victims—an estimated eight million horses and donkeys died during WWI which was portrayed through Michael Morpurgo’s book ‘War Horse’ (now both a movie and stage play).

Similar to our story, the French also wear a flower. The bleuet de France (or cornflower) is the symbol for, and solidarity with veterans, victims of war, widows, and orphans. They are sold both on 11^th November and 8^th May. Proceeds are used to finance charitable causes.

On the barren fields of the Western Front, much like the poppy, the cornflower also flourished and were often the only visible sign of life among the mud and trenches.

With war arrives propaganda and the ‘Bluets’ as they were known (very young soldiers arriving at the front line for the first time) would do so in uniforms ‘the colour of the sky’ which was symbolised embellished with cornflowers, giving war a glamorous image.

The French Bleuet de France badge itself dates back to 1916 and was created by Suzanne Lenhardt (head nurse) and Charlotte Malleterre (widow of a Col Infantry killed in 1915). Both women had been moved by the suffering endured by the war wounded and provided them with an activity by arranging workshops where cornflower badges were made from tissue paper. The money collected provided the men with a small income and the badges gradually became a symbol of rehabilitation of soldiers through labour.

Lest we forget.

by Donna Siggers and David Last

Situated in parkland that contains Cobham Woods, Darnley Mausoleum is a striking surprise when you’ve never seen it before. Now owned by the National Trust, this building was designed by James Wyatt for the Forth Earl of Darnley of Cobham Hall in Kent, as detailed in precise instructions of his predecessor, the Third Earl of Darnley. Surprisingly, this structure has never been used for its intended purpose of interments.

Using the architectural style of a grand classical temple of Roman Doric Order, most recognisable by the simple circular capitals at the top of the columns, this isn’t what struck me when Dave took me here recently.

Darnley Mausleum (pictured looking out from woodland)

Symbolism emits from every part of this incredible building that stands in the middle of the countryside, and anyone that's read my novels might know that I understand it . Most notable is the pyramid (a symbol for strength a duration) atop of it which then made me look for other signs: nine steps lead up to the entrance; nine vents in the form of flowers, each with eight petals, that allow air flow through three windows.

Let’s talk numbers—Masonic numbers. The number three was celebrated among ancient sages, the sum three times three (nine) has no less celebrity. Representing each of the elements which constitutes our bodies—water, earth and fire—are thus tripled. The flowers each have eight petals: eight was esteemed by Pythagoreans as the first cube being formed by the multiplication two by two by two. It signifies friendship, prudence, council and justice. Reduplication of the first even number it was made to refer to the primitive law of nature, supposing all men to be equal. Christian numerical symbologists consider the number eight the number for resurrection—here goes—Jesus rose on the seventh day. In Greek numerals, corresponding to its Greek letters this is represented as 10, 8, 200, 70, 400, 200. These numbers added is 888, the Dominical Number. (Number source: Mackey’s Encyclopedia of Freemasonry).

Unfortunately, the building was locked so it wasn’t possible to gain entry, but I’m now intrigued as to what symbolism might lay within it.

Returning home with questions as to who might have wanted this important structure built in the first place, I got to researching who the Third Duke of Darnley might have been and the family connections he had were remarkable! Esmè Stewart, 3rd Duke of Lennox (1579-30 July 1624) KG, Lord of the Manor of Cobham, Kent, a Scottish nobleman and second cousin of King James VI of Scotland and I of England was also 3rd Duke of Darnley. Interestingly, his son, the 4th Duke of Darnley, served as Lord Warden of the Clique Ports based in Dover Castle (also in Kent).

Further research has revealed that both King James VI of Scotland (later I of England and Esmè Steward were Freemasons, which explains the elaborate design of Darnley Mausoleum and the rarity of it being placed in vast wooded parkland.

James I will also feature next week as we delve into November, and plots of treason against him.

By Donna Siggers with David Last

Looks sweet and innocent enough, doesn’t it, the jelly baby, but this unassuming treat has a dark past. What we want to know is do you have a sinister mastication to the method in which you eat them? Are you the type that goes straight in for the kill by chopping of the head, Henry VIII style? Or do you nibble off the arms and legs to leave a helpless torso? Perhaps you place the whole thing into your mouth and allow it to melt as if it’s in an acid bath! Pseudo-cannibalism may not have crossed you mind until now but allow us to take you through the history of this sweetie and all will be revealed!

Invented by an Austrian immigrant confectioner working at Fryers of Lancashire in 1864, the mold produced for what was supposed to be jelly bears looked more like new-born infants. Subsequently the sweets were given the macabre name, unclaimed babies. Unclaimed babies were part of life in Victorian Britain, with newborn babies being left on church steps regularly—Tim Richardson, author of Sweets: A History of Temptation claims that Victorian people would have found the name “amusing”.

This name was short-lived. In celebration of peace, after WWI, Bassett’s of Sheffield began producing the sweet in 1918 as Peace Babies but production was halted during WWII due to a shortage of raw materials. Once production restarted in 1953, they were relaunched as Jelly Babies and their popularity took off. They even have names as well as their individual flavour! “Brilliant” (red: strawberry); “Bubbles” (yellow: lemon); “Baby Bonny” (pink: raspberry); “Boofuls” (green: lime); “Bigheart” (purple: blackcurrant); and “Bumper” (orange).

There is a little more to their cute faces than meets the eye too—have you ever looked at them? Their faces illustrate sin and the darkness of the human heart. So here is the list for you to wrap your head around:- Pink: This one is an actual baby—awww! Red: Displaying a large B, representing blood sacrifice; Green: This baby is crying indicating human misery.

Doctor Who ate them, he pretended they were weapons against an enemy too in the popular cult TV show. Rowan Atkinson carried them in Johnny English Strikes Again, as disguised explosives. The Beatles were pelted with jelly babies, but most importantly Basil Brush considered them his favourite sweetie snack—and who could argue with a sitcom puppet fox?

by Donna Siggers and David Last

Abandoned buildings became a healthy addiction approximately five years ago, seeing me trawl google earth at every given opportunity. A visit to the Isle of Anglesey, gave me the perfect opportunity to visit some relics in the North East but nothing as interesting what I would stumble across.

After an hour’s map search this, find wasn’t an if but a when. Luckily, I found information that assisted me on google regarding a visit from a fellow explorer—he’d been chased from the park by a member of the Bulkeley family who lives nearby. From here I learnt the Baron Hill Estate had been owned by and had been the family seat to the influential Bulkeley family, explained his annoyance as the family lost their fortunes to death duties.

Undeterred, I arrive in Beaumaris and given on-line reports of former angry encounters left a digital footprint of my whereabouts before setting out on my adventure towards the gate house. I have to admit, adrenaline was pumping but there was no alternative but to volt a four foot wall in order for me to be out of view—I’m not sure who was more startled, myself or the pheasant I disturbed!

Making my way I was in awe at the view of the south of the island and the Beaumaris Castle coming into view, an amazing sight, but I was soon bought back into reality as a tractor came towards me. On high alert once more, I quickened my pace and made my way back into the wooded area for coverage. After all, I was trespassing.

After a few more steps through undergrowth I stumbled upon what I was looking for—an incredible sight, decaying among the trees that was difficult to photograph. The true scale of the building impossible to capture due to the density of the plants growing around and withing it. Floors had given way, and stairways were impassable, but it was still possible to gauge the enormity and grandeur existence.

Baron Hill Mansion: Abandoned After Polish Soldiers moved out in WWII

HISTORY

The Baron Hill Estate was stablished in 1618 with the original mansion being built the same year by Sir Richard Bulkeley. During the English Civil War, Richard Bulkeley’s successor Colonel Thomas Bulkeley was said to invite King Charles I to take possession of the house in order to set up his court there. In the early eighteenth century the house was the seat of Richard Bulkeley 4^th Viscount Bulkeley who maintained Jacobite sympathies.

King Edward VII enjoying tea in the garden of Baron Hill Estate
(Seated fourth at table--with the Bulkeley family)

In 1776 the house was reconstructed by architect Samuel Wyatt to a much similar design that is still evident in its ruined state today. In the nineteenth century the Bulkeleys remained the most dominant land owners on the island and other parts of Wales. During WWI the death duties had wiped the family’s fortunes and they were unable to maintain the estate. During the war Royal Engineers were stationed at the house. In 1939 when WWII broke out the mansion was taken over by the government and used as temporary housing for Polish soldiers, who in protest to the cold conditions, started a fire and destroyed much of the interior so they would be moved to new housing accommodation. The mansion was abandoned and still is to this day.

The park is a designated site of special scientific interest due to the large area that has been undisturbed for many years. I believe the building itself is now listed and there was a planning application in 2008 to restore and convert into flats.

SS Richard Montgomery, a US Liberty Ship, rests on a sandbank running east from the Isle of Grain approximately 250 metres north of the Medway Approach Channel in the Thames estuary and has done so since it ran aground on 20^th August 1944.

 Its an eerie sight, even on the brightest of days.

Built in 1943 by the St John’s River Shipbuilding Company, Jacksonville, she was one of in excess of 2,700 mass-produced vessels built for the WWII effort. Setting sail containing cargo of 7,000 tonnes of munitions she was directed to anchor in the Great Nore anchorage off Sheerness, to await formation of a convoy before heading to Cherbourg. Running aground in shallow waters just North of the Medway Approach Channel. Efforts to unload her cargo were intensive but a crack appeared in the hull by the next day and unfortunately the forward end begun to flood. Salvage continued until 25^th September when she flooded completely and was abandoned. Remaining on the sandbank where she sank, her masts clearly visible above the water, there is something sinister about this ship.

Protected under Section Two of the Protection of Wrecks Act 1973, there is a no entry exclusion zone around her. Marked on the relevant Admiralty Charts and defined by coordinates—the physical site is marked by buoys in the water that act as a warning other ships in the area. There are also warning signs attached to the masts.

Why so much protection?

Approximately 1,400 tonnes of explosives remain aboard the forward holds and although water is a good mitigator (allegedly) the issue is the actual wreck around the explosives is decaying. Experts believe the decaying vessel could cause enough energy to detonate the bombs and if this occurred Sheerness could be flattened. The wave and subsequent momentum that would occur from the explosion would, it’s thought, travel the Thames flattening buildings along the way. Of course, there is a lot of speculation of how these explosives may behave after being submerged for such a long time but who needs to be taking such huge chances? 

Another worry is the masts could be struck by a passing vessel and there have been many near misses over the years. Despite the exclusion zone being clearly marked, storms can be difficult to navigate and some of the larger ships, once set on their path are hugely difficult to turn. There are even internet photographs of a paddle boarder entering the exclusion zone and touching a mast. Those images are on google if you’re interested to view them—irresponsibility seems to be high on some people’s agenda. 

Responding to decay and potential danger the plan is to remove the masts from this incredible ghost that sits within our estuary. A silent ticking time-bomb that will be costing £5M in danger money to preserve live and land. Its an incredible story and we are glad we got to view the Montgomery together before her masts disappear. 

We were taken out from Southend-on-Sea by jetstreamtours.com who are based in Rochester, Kent. Their boat, Jacob Marley, has been kitted out in line within Covid-19 guidelines. Each table is divided with plastic divides and numbers are limited on each tour. Hand sanitiser is available and numbers are limited out on deck, with plenty of time for everyone to have their turn taking photographs at each of the sites visited. History of the area is shared by the captain who is very knowledgeable--not just on the sites you have paid to visit but on other hidden gems too. 

by Donna Siggers and David Last

Reculver Towers and Roman Fort is mostly a ruin. Still, this site takes your breath away as you approach it. The dominant towers of the twelfth-century former monastic church stand out against the skyline and act as a navigational marker for shipping. Unfortunately, much of the site has been lost to coastal erosion but you can still gain a sense of how grand it must have been from what remains. 

Two thousand years ago the geographical layout of the area was hugely different—the Wantsum, a sea channel, cut off the Isle of Thanet from the mainland (this area has since silted up and is now dry land). The Roman Fort once stood on what was a peninsula at the north end of the channel where it joined the Thames estuary.

The Romans conquered England under Claudius in AD 43 thus their armies landed unopposed under Aulus Plautius. There has always been debate as to the location this occurred—Reculver and Richborough (at nearby Sandwich) are locations where fortifications of the Claudian period have been found: given these early findings its plausible the Wantsum channel could be the site where Romans first landed in England.

It’s believed the Roman settlement was build during the 1^st and 2^nd centuries around a harbour and that the fort was erected during the 3^rd century. Almost square, with rounded corners and measuring 180m x 175m it was built on Saxon Shore against Saxon raids.

The religious aspect of the site wasn’t erected until the 5^th century, by which time the Romans had abandoned it. The Anglo-Saxon monastery was founded in 669 which made good use of the existing fortifications. The monastery was in use for five centuries.

Another wonderful visit that has prompted a little research into England’s heritage and flared our imagination as to what life might have been like living in a place like this centuries ago.

by Donna Siggers and David Last