The magical history tour continues

Well, if you're tired of reading about my travels, you'd better go somewhere else for a week or so! This serves as a journal for me. I love to go back and read old posts and relive our adventures, so I will selfishly recount everything I recall. 

Saturday found us in Hastings, on the south coast. We stayed in a grand old house in St. Leonard's-on-Sea, about thirty minutes walk along the seafront from Hastings itself. The house is Georgian and was built in the 1850's. It is in a state of benevolent neglect and, while the hosts were affable and attentive and engagingly befuddled, the room and bathing facilities were not quite up to the standard of our other stays.

No matter. The weather was becoming sunnier each day and it was a beautiful day for a walk. 

As we got to the main part of Hastings, this was the view as far as the eyes could see.

I could just imagine the crowds of holiday-goers walking the promenade a hundred years ago.

 Hastings was already a settlement when the Romans arrived in Britain for the first time in 55BC. The remains you see at the top of the hill are Hastings Castle, built by William the Conqueror in the 11th Century.

We walked all the way to Old Town and took the tram to the top of the opposing hill.

We walked around the "nature preserve" at the top, although the only evidence we saw of nature was millions of rabbit droppings. The expanse of grass must be a sight to see when all the rabbits come out to play.

The view, however, was phenomenal.

Then we went down again.

All the way back to St. Leonard's. 

Jeff decided he likes the south coast beaches, which are composed of shingle. He hates sand! At the end of our trip, we saw a photo in the newspaper of a beach like this, packed with people who were making the most of the Indian summer. And when I say "packed", I mean literally that there was hardly room to walk between the sun-worshippers. 

Personally, sitting on rocks is not my idea of a good time!

The Battle of Hastings was not fought in Hastings, but 8 miles to the north at a place called Senlac Hill. There is a nearby town called Battle. Funny, that.

It was fascinating to learn about the Battle of Hastings. I've always remembered the date 1066 from elementary school. Most Americans probably haven't encountered this particular period of history, especially younger generations, but it was a definitive time in English history. It marked the end of the Anglo-Saxon rule and ushered in the Norman rule. The Norman invasion transformed the ruling class, language, church life and culture of the country.

William the conqueror came from a group of Vikings who had settled in Northern France. He took exception to Harold Godwinson's ascent to the British throne in early 1066, claiming that it had been promised to him. Poor Harold spent most of 1066 defending his throne against various invaders, so his forces were already weakened and tired from a forced march down from Yorkshire. 

Harold's troops spent the better part of a day holding off William's army, but the Conqueror proved to be the better strategist in the end and his army rushed up this very hill to finally defeat and kill Harold.

There is a great rendition of the battle here if you have a few minutes to spare.

Behold, the abbey spoken of in this quote from the aforementioned website.

No later than 1070, King William 'the Conqueror', as he now was, marked his victory by establishing a great Benedictine abbey at Battle. On the one hand, this important religious foundation would serve as a memorial to the dead, and could be seen as a public act of atonement by the king for the bloodshed caused. Even the abbey's own chronicler was to later write that the fields had been 'covered in corpses, and all around the only colour to meet the gaze was blood-red'. But there was another purpose to the foundation, one reflecting the more calculating side of William's nature: it would stand as a symbol of the Norman triumph. Indeed, the abbey chronicler reports the king's insistence that the high altar in the abbey church was to stand on the very spot that Harold fell.

That William was a wiley one!

Our bed for the night was on Hayling Island, just out of Portsmouth. We arrived just before dark, having gotten lost several times on the way. Those darn roundabouts get me every time! Our hosts were new to the B&B scene, as were those on the previous night. We were their very first guests. The house was immaculate and our room was lovely.

This tray was supplied with snacks and hot drink makings. 

Our hosts' son just moved to New Zealand and they are visiting him in January so we had lots to talk about. I think this was our favourite of all the airbnb stays. 

We slept like babies.

A little Ashford on your Rye

We arrived in Ashford on Thursday night to stay with a couple whose room we booked through airbnb. This website matches up would-be renters with travelers who are looking for a reasonably priced and nice place to stay. Jeff was a bit dubious about the whole thing, but it worked out very well for us. We stayed in airbnb houses for seven nights and all of the hosts were absolutely charming and only one of the rooms was less than immaculate. The prices are a quarter to a third of what you would pay at a commercial B&B and you get the pleasure of really getting to know your hosts, which adds to the benefits, IMO.

This was our room in Ashford, on the third floor of a new Victorian-style house.

                             
After a breakfast of chocolate-macadamia muesli, we sauntered down the back alleys of Ashford. We were looking for the town library so that Jeff could research some information on his family, who reputedly lived in the area in the 1600’s.



Ashford was most likely established in 893 AD by inhabitants escaping a Danish Viking raid on a nearby village. It has historically been a market town and transportation hub for the surrounding area. It was voted the fourth most desirable place to live in England in 2005.
After confirming the existence of Jeff’s ancestors, we headed in the direction of St. Mary’s Church, but I got a little sidetracked by an open-air market. Especially the baked goods stall. I was surprised to see that they still sell loaves of unwrapped bread. And Jeff and I enjoyed a fresh cream doughnut each.
Mmmmm.
The bakery lady was very friendly and gave us lots of good tips on how to get around Ashford.

                     

Then I had a craving for humbugs so we hit the sweet shop.
The lady in the sweet shop was from Birmingham, the same area that my cousin lives, so we had a nice chat with her too. And bought several different kinds of humbugs.

We walked to St. Mary’s and explored the outside of the church…

…and then the inside. Almost all of the windows were stained glass.

Ornate memorials line the walls of the ancient edifice and many of the flagstones are epitaphs that are being worn down by the centuries of footsteps that have trodden upon them.



This baptismal font is almost certainly the one in which Jeff’s ancestors were christened in the 1600’s as it dates from the 15th century.

Another walk along the narrow alleys that border the churchyard…

…and one more wander through the cemetery…



…turned up this gem.

The remains of William Waters, commonly called OLD WILLIAM And MARY his Wife are deposited at the foot of this stone. She died 22 of March 1815 in the 77 year of her age. He died 13 of June 1816 in the 90 year of his age. They lived together as domestic Servants in the same family FORTY YEARS, RESPECTED and BEFRIENDED by all classes of Inhabitants of this Town. They passed the Remainder of their years CONTENTED and HAPPY On the Fruits of their HONEST INDUSTRY. Readers, whether thy Lot in this world be POVERTY or AFFLUENCE, Learn from the EXAMPLE of these Good old Faithful SERVANTS That the sure way to PEACE and HAPPINESS Is diligently to do your DUTY In that situation of Life in which you have been placed by your ALMIGHTY FATHER.

Words to live by.

The thing I loved about this church was that it is a living, breathing, vibrant, part of the community. The place was hopping with people in the middle of the week. It was recently renovated and most of the pews removed and replaced with chairs. Now, the town uses the church for many of its events. It was an exciting place to be, unlike so many of the old churches which are locked up all week until Sunday.

We stopped at Sainsbury’s, the local supermarket, which also happens to be an excellent place to exchange dollars. Just ask for one of their Nectar cards and you get a better rate than anywhere else that we could find. We stocked up on a few groceries and drooled over the Cadbury dairy aisle.



And that was not even half of it!
Our last stop in Ashford was the village of Willesborough, which has an Osborne Road and is most likely the location of the early Osbornes.
There was a church.
Who am I kidding? There’s always a church!
So we explored it and sat in the graveyard and ate our sausage slice (me) and Cornish pasty (Jeff).



Our destination that night was Hastings, but several people had told us that we had to stop in Rye, so we did. It was gorgeous, all hilly cobbled streets and Tudor houses and ancient buildings.

            
                 

The Tudor houses are built using the “wattle and daub” method. The frames are made of timber and the spaces in between were filled with a woven frame of small sticks or slats and then daubed with a mixture of wet soil, clay, animal dung, sand, and straw. The building method has been in use for over 6,000 years. The black-and-white look is iconic, but, personally, I ended up wanting to paint them bright blue and yellow!

After sufficiently admiring and photographing all the beauties, we drove around the harbour to a bird sanctuary and had a long walk, only Jeff couldn’t find his binoculars so we didn’t spot many birds.



And then, before it got dark, we drove on.

Canterbury Tales

In keeping with British theme songs, who remembers this one?

On Thursday morning, we caught the train for Victoria Station and picked up our rental car. The rental guy sent me upstairs to pick up the car. The test was to see if I could get it out of the parking garage. I followed the Exit arrows and it took about three circuits of the fourth floor to realize that I wasn't going anywhere. I decided to go against the arrows and finally arrived at the entrance. They wouldn't let me out but pointed me to the actual exit. Phew! By the time I pulled up on the street outside the rental agency I was all in a sweat.

Miraculously, we made it out of London without any adverse incidents. I had spent a lot of time in the bus on Wednesday studying the driving tactics on the streets, which kind of gave me a head start. London drivers must be accustomed to tourist drivers because they were very tolerant and helpful. I have to say that we found Londoners in general to be that way. 

We wended our way slowly to Canterbury, enjoying the picturesque villages but not so much the narrow country roads. Our first stop was Canterbury Cathedral, which was high on Jeff's list of places to see. After paying the exorbitant fee of one pound an hour for parking (forget free lunch, there is no such thing as free parking in England) we walked down charming narrow streets to the cathedral itself.

The cathedral is made of limestone from Caen, which deteriorates rather quickly and is in the process of being restored. Often, the blocks are replaced with new ones.

It is imposing from the outside. The first Archbishop of Canterbury was St. Augustine, who arrived as a missionary in England in 597AD. He was given the church by the local King Ethelbert, whose wife was already a Christian. Augustine's original building lies beneath the nave of the present building, which was extensively rebuilt and enlarged by the Saxons and completely rebuilt by the Normans in 1070 after it was destroyed by a fire. More about the Normans in a later post.

If you think you're going to get out of this without learning some British history, you are so deluded!

It was in this very cathedral that Thomas Becket was murdered in 1170. His tomb is prominently displayed inside the building.

The inside walls of this massive edifice are covered in stone memorials. This one was particularly poignant.

Whereupon, my camera ran out of battery.

Just as well, I can hear you thinking.

Evensong was at 5:30, so we dashed back to the parking lot and put another pound coin into the machine, then dashed back to the cathedral. I cannot describe the sublime sounds of the great organ and the angelic voices of the boys choir. The acoustics of these vaulted churches and cathedrals are like nothing I have ever experienced. The planets must have been lined up just right on this night, because we attempted to catch similar services in other cathedrals later in our travels and it never worked again. But I will forever hold that short time in my memory bank of great musical moments.

We had to leave a few minutes early to dash back to the parking lot before our hour ran out. It was a short drive to Ashford to our next bed-and-breakfast hosts. 

Space seems to be at a premium in this small island. The roads are so narrow that it seems as if the very fields resent the space they occupy. I freak out frequently when driving through villages or narrow lanes when I see cars or trucks heading towards me and I think that nevernevernever will there be enough room for us both. But, somehow, there always is, and on we go again.