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| Benet's Abbey by John Cotman |
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| Castle Acre Priory |
Before Paul, I was married for 27 years to someone who taught archaeology and also conducted digs in the summer months. It was not a happy marriage and that is all I will say on it. But it is what a part of my life was about. Churches became more of a hobby in the last few years, but my diploma rested on my thesis about Wiltshire Abbeys. I became fascinated by them, I wandered with the Victorian writer Harold Brakespeare amongst the ruins, Stanley Abbey near Calne, Lacock Abbey, Malmsbury and Bradenstoke to name but a handful.
They seemed to be the first self-sufficient communities that prospered, then went the way of all projects, on the road to capitalism. They were taken apart by an arrogant king, who made a law to fit his marital affiliations, and then destroyed the abbeys because they became powerful in the land.
Ruins are strong symbols of human history, that is why I am so intrigued by them, they represent failure of course, but their grace as they fall into rack and ruin captures the heart. The ivy clinging to the stone is now ripped off in our modern world, but the Victorians loved the gloom and creative element of tumbling stone and wild flower.
That is why I saw the John Cotman painting as an interesting juxtaposition of a later windmill built into the ruins of an abbey, and will look up its history. (Someone with a more practical vision had built a windmill in the middle of this early abbey in Norfolk. Built in 1725 but by 1740 was used as a drainage mill.)
Well I spent four summer years working at Castle Acre Priory, scraping, drawing and eventually doing the wages and dealing with the problems of about 40 diggers in the summer months. We excavated the round brewery building, next to an inlet of water, now dry that was also excavated by digger, this channel would have brought goods to the abbey by boat.
From camping on site with those wretched blue mobile loos and a shower in the old medieval barn, from which we had to cross a sandy floor and ruined the effect of a clean shower.
When married, it was a cottage along a long farm track, moving a couple of grazing tethered goats from the track (my job, I used to throw my arms around their necks and tug) and then finding a tiny shrew in the bed the first night.
In the last year, baby in pram and my daughter, I reigned in the shed unable to draw, dealing with problems and money, people always wanted money before wage day.
I shall put one last photo, my daughter will not be too pleased, but in this photo are old faces that I remember from this time. Waterstone's restaurant in Bath.
The Swiss family connection was there, Annabel and Marc, Granny, associated friends, Leni Heaton, Florine and Eugene Katz, Karen's American godmother.
Then Bath friends, Henry and Valerie Cliffe, John and Thea Lewis. At the back Jane and Tony, Jim and his wife, two digging friends, Jean, and Ron's family.
From camping on site with those wretched blue mobile loos and a shower in the old medieval barn, from which we had to cross a sandy floor and ruined the effect of a clean shower.
When married, it was a cottage along a long farm track, moving a couple of grazing tethered goats from the track (my job, I used to throw my arms around their necks and tug) and then finding a tiny shrew in the bed the first night.
In the last year, baby in pram and my daughter, I reigned in the shed unable to draw, dealing with problems and money, people always wanted money before wage day.
I shall put one last photo, my daughter will not be too pleased, but in this photo are old faces that I remember from this time. Waterstone's restaurant in Bath.
The Swiss family connection was there, Annabel and Marc, Granny, associated friends, Leni Heaton, Florine and Eugene Katz, Karen's American godmother.
Then Bath friends, Henry and Valerie Cliffe, John and Thea Lewis. At the back Jane and Tony, Jim and his wife, two digging friends, Jean, and Ron's family.
Sometimes it is good to look back in old times, recognise old faces. I have a few photos like this and many of the people have gone, some I have lost touch with - I often think of them - some little reminder will set me off. I think we have all had happy and sad times - times when we felt almost on top of the world and times when we feel pretty low - but we have survived.
ReplyDeleteSome are very sad, I can remember a couple of phone calls with female friends who were leaving this world and yet in those last days phoned to say good bye. Cancer has been such a cruelty in this age.
DeleteWas that Margaret Thatcher on the front row left? I also love old ruins though I never dreamt that I would become one.
ReplyDeleteNo she never made it into my life;) Probably you are referring to Leni Heaton, who lived to be a hundred, and had this lovely little Swiss House next to the railway that went up the Pleiade Mountain. I am not sure we turn into 'old ruins' though we may lose our marbles along the way.
DeleteFancy you having been at Castle Acre. My archeology teacher in my recent classes spoke of the tents there and spending time on digs. St Benets Abbey is on the Norfolk Broads and reached by boat or a long walk across the marshes.
ReplyDeleteI loved it there the ruins were beautiful, and Norfolk, because of its flatness a strange experience. Also went to the Sea Henge beach and the museum a couple of times a few years back. The marvellous thing about Britain is its varied landscapes.
ReplyDeleteYes - interested in St Benet's - seen it many times in my days when the Broads was our favourite holiday destination many years ago (at least fifty) and always loved it. I also love Cotman - so rarely seen these days and such a joy. I am a great watercolour fan too.
ReplyDelete