Clifford’s Tower, part of the original castle, stood high on a motte, which is a man-made hill to provide fortifications with more protection and greater ability to see an enemy approaching. It is a round tower, which originally had a wooden roof and would have been surrounded by the moat that also encircled the castle complex. Now it sits alone, proclaiming its ancient origins by its skewed walls.
We bypassed the tower on our way to the
The detail in the interiors was amazing, with different dogs sitting by different hearths, ornaments, food, leisure activities and furniture perfect for each era, social status and occupations of the supposed residents. The Moorland cottage of the 1850s featured a rabbit hanging from the rafters, no-fuss furnishings passed down through the family and a witch ball hanging at the window to ward off evil spirits. In contrast, the Georgian drawing room of 1780 features fashionable furniture of the times, a carpet (a luxury becoming more common in prosperous families), fine china and painted wooden panelling.
We learnt lots of interesting facts, including that alcohol was commonly given to babies to make them sleep, with it being an ingredient of gripe water up until 1992. Puzzles helped to teach geography and were invented by a map maker, |John Spilsbury in 1760s. Other puzzles became popular in the 1870s after the invention of the mechanical saw and were called ‘jigsaws’. The Reverend Moule invented and patented a dry earth closet toilet in 1860, which was designed to be more economical than installing pipes and sewers but was a major problem in towns where there were no gardens to collect dry earth from or places to dig holes to dispose of the dry earth flush and its additional contents. It was not suitable for the country either, since finding or creating dry earth was a problem in a land where it rains even in summer. Oh dear, back to the drawing board.
We rushed on to Kirkgate, where we could hear quite a commotion – a thief was being pursued by the police and was ultimately caught and immediately brought before a magistrate – a high octane performance by the actors who ‘reside and work’ in the village, and who bring everything to life. We went shopping for some delicious chocolate mice in an old lolly shop, observed a maid flirting with a shop boy and, after a little while, saw the terrible recidivist thief arrested again and once more thrown into gaol to await trial. Women bustled past with baskets of purchases on their arms. It would have been great to have come early and stayed late to see the changing faces in the street – presumably some children would have been filing in or out of the school, clerks would have been on hand for us to deposit our savings into the bank or we could have pawned our jewellery if we ran out of cash. It would be so much fun to work there, since the brief is not only to perform a rehearsed segment but also to interact in character while educating the visitors about past times.
We moved from Kirkgate into the display about the 1960s – common territory for us and full of reminders that acted like a ‘blast from the past’. We had been in the company of some young parents and their very noisy and wildly undisciplined children and they surpassed themselves racing around and screaming, as if the era of free love and alternative lifestyles had prompted an even wilder reaction than Kirkgate. The ultimate was when one of the young daughters leapt up on the spotless and lovingly displayed white motorbike and started to push down on the kick start and attack the throttle. The attendant, a little older than us and pushed well past endurance, pointed at the child and asked loudly, ‘Who owns that?’ One of the fathers dragged the child off, gave her a cuff and asked her what she had gone and done that for and couldn’t she read the sign. It was a bit tough on the young child to pass the responsibility for the lawlessness which these parents had allowed and, on occasions, considered as cute during the visit.
We didn’t really have time to do the rest of the museum justice, with quick looks at the fashions and the prison section, including Dick Turpin’s cell. There were no regulations regarding prison life until the 19th century. Gaolers were not paid and made their livelihood by selling services, favours and goods to the prisoners. We were finally chased from the displays by the attendants who were clearing the building, having had a very interesting visit and wishing we had more time.
This feeling persisted as we walked through the city to the Minster, which was closed by now. A quick dip into the parish church of St Michael-le-Belfrey next door, having been invited in by friendly parishioners, revealed a church full of chatting people, tea urns and plates of scones and slice, a small orchestra tuning up – in fact the business of a modern parish appealing to the sense of community and involvement that some see as essential to attracting and holding congregations these days. The atmosphere was very warm and welcoming.
We loved the quaint street called The Shambles; originally a street of butchers where the wood in the buildings has both rotted, dried and compressed, but remains intact, distorting the buildings.
At last we stopped for a meal and a sit down, at a pub that specialises in English pies. Every area seems to have food specialities and, combined with the different use for the same words, ordering from a menu in English is not always straightforward. On the way home we reflected on the need to spend more time in
Coal was the fuel which enabled Britain to make the most of the Industrial Revolution with the growth of industries in the 18th and 19th centuries. 1.25 million people worked in coal mining at the beginning of the twentieth century. Miners’ welfare was important but not considered to be a major responsibility of the company in the early days. Other groups, such as the church, organised outings and welfare for miners and eventually, with the rise of the Unions, workers looked to those organisations to support them in winning improvements in working conditions and with financial assistance in times of illness and death. A coal tax was supposed to bring reforms to housing, and baths at the pit heads, but the work was very hard and living conditions were often sub-standard for the workers.
The history of mining involved technological and welfare improvements, but it continued to be a dangerous job with long term health hazards. It was not until the 1960s that the annual death toll from mine accidents in England fell below 1000. Miners have been involved in political action, with extensive strikes crippling communities and establishing animosities between strikers and scabs, and the police. In 1984 the Thatcher government closed down the pits amidst a sea of protests and considerable hardship for miners and their families. When the mines closed the machinery and the infrastructure were left below, and much is buried. A period of natural subsidence meant constant monitoring and work at sites was necessary. Some pits have reopened recently, with coal now being seen as one important supplier of energy into the future.
A ride on the coal trucks took us to the end of the museum site where we could look at other aspects of mining at that pit, such as the machines for pumping out the water that continually seeped into the mines, the air compressors which ran machinery below ground and the works where blacksmiths and fitters and turners worked to supply tools and to make and maintain machines. It was not surprising that the café had finished with lunches when we stopped at three o’clock, but luckily just one of their huge fruit scones or cakes and a cup of tea or coffee was enough to fuel us up for the next part of our day out.
We started with a ramble through the Henry Moore sculptures, which looked fabulous in this setting. Moore’s father was a miner and he spent time sketching miners at work down pits but none of his works on display here showed obvious links to that aspect of his background. They did show his focus on shape and form; aspects which he sees everywhere in the landscape. He draws inspiration from landscapes and cloud formations and sees the outdoors as ideal for displaying his works.
The house is not open to the public, but forms a grand focus for the gardens and the sculptures. We rambled about, looking at each sculpture and enjoying the grounds. Some sculptures were immediately appealing; others needed some discussion and thought about the concepts and methods involved, and others remained enigmas to us. We were continually led on around the park by the next art work. One was a sound installation in an old pergola where the sound was stimulated by viewers moving across the floor or sitting on the benches. An ancient yew tree in the garden behind was a living sculpture itself.
It would be easy to spend a whole day at the sculpture park, with the terrace walls containing galleries for indoor works, the terraces themselves being used as display areas, and other exhibitions beyond the gardens in the farm area. We had a most enjoyable time while we were there and the rain, which had dogged the day, kindly refrained from falling on us. Graeme is very good company and we were very appreciative of him taking us out for the day.
Graeme came in with us to meet Michael, who we were dining with. Michael’s friends who he met in Tanzania, Mzee and Dianne, were also there, with Mzee busily cooking up a pilaf with coconut rice and a bean in coconut milk dish. Diane has taught in Tanzanian schools, trained teachers and travelled around quite a bit, so she was the perfect person to discuss possibilities for helping in the school when we go to Ticha’s village of Farkwa. Michelle and Andy were there and they are also great proponents of travel and adventures.
Dean, Maureen, Steff and Jimmy were playing a card game called ‘Wagga’ when we got home and Keith had a hand. It is based on ridding yourself of your cards, but to do that you have to have groups of the same numbers or runs, and you can’t start to put out cards until you can put out enough to add up to 51 points or more. You can add on to other players’ groups, so holding on to your cards is a risk but a defence against other people ridding themselves of their cards by building on yours.
A miner's daily requirements: a Dudley for water and a steel sandwich box to keep rats and mice out.
The wild flowers here form a natural cottage garden, with heavily laden blackberry canes arching over the top, providing us with a delicious walking snack. We walked for a long way, maybe six kilometres, enjoying the lovely afternoon in the countryside. We took the path to the left at some forks, the path to the right at others, in a meandering stroll to nowhere in particular. A lane through farm land looked interesting and proved to be a link between the farms and the village of Cudworth, where Rohan and Kerry live with Kerry’s grandparents. 
The police mounted section, called Ring Farm, marked the division of the village and the countryside. Two lasses in their very early teens sat on a small bridge while some similarly aged boys circled on their bikes. The girls were chatting between themselves and with others on their mobile phones, at the same time keeping the boys interested with some chiacking and funny comments. Eventually the taller girl threw back the comment that Emily didn’t want to go out with one of the boys anymore. This boy, who actually looked about ten, was fairly philosophical about being dumped and made a non-committal sound, but was reassured when Emily paused in her phone conversation to say ‘I do, its just that you are so annoying all the time.’ With that the group broke up with the boys taking the same road as us, playing a form of soccer cum polo with the ball and their bikes.
Soon we were on the main road at Cudworth and I was disappointed to find that all our trecking had landed us only two miles from home. Still, we bought some phone credit and checked out the shops, and then phoned Rohan to see where he was. He and Kerry were home so they met us at a corner a bit further on with Meg, one of the dogs belonging to Kerry’s grandparents, Madge and Graeme, excited to be out and about and keen to get going. She absolutely flew around the first field we crossed but was very obedient when called back. She is a beautiful border collie with a gentle nature – the ideal dog really. The nearest route to the nature reserve was along a road with no footpaths, so since that would be dangerous at this hour, we took a little tour of the district and went another way. Soon we were walking through cow paddocks and beside a crop we didn’t recognise, which was being harvested.
The area, Carlton Marsh, was declared a nature reserve in 1976. Its original name was Carlton Ings, with ings being the Norse word for marsh. Much work was done clearing reeds, establishing an open area of water and planting woodlands, with the species mainly being silver birch, oak, rowan and holly. There are also some wet grazing meadows, a habitat which used to be common in England but is a rarity now. The school has a pond for investigations of water life and signs show how to identify the various species, many of which look very similar to those found in Victoria. Small in size, it is a little treasure of a nature reserve and an asset for anyone wanting to study the creatures and plants in the area.
We did go the quick way back and I could see why Kerry had not recommended it at peak hour. Many roads are fairly narrow, with hardly any verge between it and the uncompromising hedges or stone walls along each side.
We had a lovely visit with Madge, Graeme and Kerry’s young cousin Hannah, checking out Kerry’s beautiful furry cats, meeting Patch and Pippa, who represent the two ends of a dog’s life, and examining the vegetables that Graeme has growing. I was impressed by the flowers in the front garden, with the gorgeous colours making it look like a brilliant island in a sea of paths and walls. After a cuppa and lots of chat, Graeme drove us home to Maureen and Dean's, although it would not have been so far to walk along the road.