A trip to London

We just got back from five days in London, an experience none of us are ever likely to forget.  We'll be posting our individual comments in the next few days.  In the mean time, I'll tell about a walk on Hampstead Heath that Ruth and I took on Sunday morning away from the noise and pressure of the city.

The Heath is arrayed around some hills to the North of the city center.  Somehow it was not developed like the hills surrounding, so the noise of the city gives way to the calls of children, the distant barking of dogs, wind in the trees and birdsong.  A great relief to the Minnesotan ear, I must say.  Somewhere near the summit, we are told, lies the tomb of Boudica (d. 60 AD).

According to Tacitus, Boudica was the daughter of a Celtic king who left his kingdom to her and to Rome jointly in his will (one wonders what he was thinking).  Rome was not particularly inclined to split the kingdom with Boudica, and treated her very badly.  She consequently led a revolt that was so devastating that Nero considered abandoning Britain then and there.  The Romans in Britain, however, eventually defeated Boudica; she died, perhaps by suicide, before she could be captured.

According to Cowper (1782), a bard foresaw her death, and said

Regions Cæsar never knew
  Thy posterity shall sway,   
Where his eagles never flew,
  None invincible as they.’

That rings true as you stand at the top of Hampstead Heath and think about how the city below you controlled much of the world and gathered in its riches.  A stroll through the British Museum or the National Portrait Gallery will confirm it.

I forgot my camera, of course, but you can find plenty of images of London as seen from the top of Hampstead Heath.

First Draft

We've had a first draft of a week here in York.  We didn't experience it off the top of our heads, oh no, but, though it was fairly well planned, it was in fact the first run-though, and I think we all identified ways in which the next draft, the week coming up, will benefit from what we learned in the first.  A second draft should not be a tweaked first, that would be boring, but it should have the first's heart beating inside it.

It's a good heart, and worth preserving.  We walked until our legs and feet were sore.  We stared upwards until our necks were sore.  We squinted in dark corners of churches and shaded our eyes on brightly sunlit walls and towers.

There will soon be several posts (now just through their first drafts) to this blog detailing and commenting on some of these experiences.  I here offer one of my own.

Anne? 

My studies in York, back in the early modern era of the 1970s, were entirely focused on the medieval period.  The churches I admired were all active during the first centuries of the last millennium and have had their current form, more or less, for 600 years.  But in these churches, life has gone on, day by day, births, marriages, deaths, through all those centuries.  About halfway along in that time, in the second half of the 18th century, there lived, in the parish of St Martin cum Gregory, a painter named William Peckitt and his wife Mary, nee Mitley.  William was a famous painter, mostly of glass.  His techniques were those of painting on porcelain, so window paintings look like luminous canvases, very different from their medieval counterparts, where line was lead, and color came from the glass itself instead of from paint on the glass.  Pekitt has magnificent windows in the Minster and in Cambridge Colleges.  He also helped to maintain the Minster glass.

Memorial Window Inscription

In the humble and settled little parish church through whose ancient door he and Mary walked with their family in all weathers most every Sunday for 50 years, he has painted a memorial window for two of his daughters who died before their time, Anne as an infant and Charlotte at age 20.  The window shows an adult female figure pointing upward to an infant female figure who in turn is pointing upward to heaven.  I think the infant is Anne.

One window further north is a memorial painted by Mary (though she does not write her name), William's "afflicted" widow, in 1796, a year after William's death.  Mary very clearly was a stained glass artist in her own right, probably working her entire life as a respected member of her husband's studio.  The Peckitt style painting in the central light is impressive enough, but around it are compositions in colored leaded glass, original in design and remarkable in composition, that show her to have been something of a genius, many years ahead of her time.

From Side Light of the William Peckitt memorial window, designed and executed by Mary Peckitt

The photos in this post are from a remarkable collection of glass photographs by Gordon Plumb.

Everything Changes, Again

Today we had our tour of Modern York, the current city.  We spent a lot of time in the walk down to the walls waiting at cross-walks as cars sped by us on the inner ring roads that follow, on the southeast corner of the city, the path of the medieval moat.   In town, where most people are on foot and consequently it's a lot quieter and less dangerous, we met up with Richard, our internship coordinator, and shopped.  First we stopped at the one pound Shambles sandwich shop.  Then phones 4 U where we learned that the I-phone 4 is "changing everything, again."  Phones 4 U occupies 33 Coney Street in space that has probably housed 40 or 50 businesses over the past 1600 years.  It would be interesting to map out the whole history of 33 Coney Street, but right now we're stuck in the present, trying to figure out what our phone numbers are.

Pear Shaped Arrival

The arrival day has arrived and, pretty much on schedule, the arrivals arrived.  One on the 12:06, two on the 1:06 and one on the 2:06 from Manchester airport.  All would have been well, but for a blip in the paperwork at the accommodations office which had only two arriving today and the other six arriving tomorrow.  This, we discovered this morning with all offices shut tight, dark and quiet.  What to do?  The IYHA youth hostel in Clifton fortunately had three of its 180 beds free.  It's the wrong side of town direction-wise, but it's a beautiful walk out there along the river, about a mile from the centre, and will surely be better than trying to sleep a night under the Ouse Bridge.  Two more will stay with us, and three will stay in the two rooms that are ours out at the Uni.

So, just as with the non-bicycled walk on Friday, we've landed on our feet.  Still, I'm hoping that what happens during the next few days is a little more in line with what we're expecting to happen!

Pictured to the right is some of the superb 15th century glass from All Saints North Street.  The photo is by David O'Connor.  Saint Christopher is the patron saint of travelers for obvious reasons.  I think he was looking out for us today.

North York Moors by Bicycle?

The students arrive tomorrow, so Ruth and I figured we would take our Saturday on Friday.  We've not been able to find second hand bikes yet, so we located a shop that rents them in Malton, 20 miles up the rail line to Scarborough, and planned a trip north from there which included pubs, moors and standing stones.

It was an easy trip to Malton, and another in a string of lovely days weather-wise, but the bicycling was not to be.  A group got in before us and hired all but one mountain bike.  So we had a wander around the beautiful town and then settled on a walk down the Derwent river to Kirkham, where there's a ruin of a medieval abbey.

The path was mostly on the "Centenary Way," which weaves in and out of the Yorkshire Wolds.  We strayed from it to only avoid a herd of sharp-horned cows and arrived safely but quite tired at Kirkham Abbey, 6 miles down the Way, about two hours after starting out.  

The quiet was delicious.

Settling In: Eccles Cakes

The Eccles cake is the teacake of choice for me when in York.  I've tried to make them at home with varying levels of success due mostly to not having much control over the flaky pastry that must encase the currant filling.  Betty's of York makes the perfect Eccles cake, and we've had some pretty good ones from other bakers around town.  Pictured here is an Eccles cake in the sunshine.