Friday Morning Wood

These are some of the panels from a fully-panelled, seventeenth-century room which needed some TLC. I had the whole thing dismantled, the layers of paint were carefully removed to reveal the original colour (a kind of pale jade green). 

The backs of the panels were lovingly waxed/oiled/repaired as necessary, the fronts will be refinished in a bespoke breathable paint to match the original colour (the layers of white paint were oil-based and the lack of breathability contributed to the damage and decay behind the panels).

We retained all of those lovely little blacksmith's nails that hold the panels into the frames. The whole shebang will be reassembled some time in the next couple of years (there are a lot of rooms to do).

This is from the same estate that houses the old wagon from last Friday's post.

Greens

Try as we might, we'll never equal Mother Nature.

Wednesday Window

 

Thought I'd spare you the cobwebs this week and move from old barns to Elder Street in Spitalfields.

Remember the simple stone stair from last weekend?

Well this is upstairs in the same house, gazing through the admittedly grubby glass at more deliciously unspoiled and expertly restored houses under the guardianship of the Spitalfields Trust.

This tiny area of just a few streets, surrounded and overshadowed by monstrous, bullying glass behemoth office blocks is a haven of peace and sanity. Tim and his valiant handful have spent decades fighting off the massed lawyers of international corporations desperate to tear these buildings down and replace them with execrable shrines to crapitalist greed.

 

This is the kind of shit I'm talking about and it makes my blood boil.

The gas lamp marks the doorway of Denis Severs' House on Folgate Street in Spitalfields, from the back room of which the Spitalfields Trust fight their long rearguard battle against the likes of Broadgate Tower (the monstrous carbuncle towering over the street).

The corporate developers have recently won the battle to destroy the historic railway arches outside Liverpool Street Station, evicting the communities that live and work there. If you look right from where I took this photo you can still see the sky … Not for much longer.

Spitalfields, together with Brick Lane to the east and Whitechapel to the south-east fight on, though it looks like an American company wants to demolish the historic Whitechapel Bell Foundry (where Big Ben and the Liberty Bell were cast) and replace it with a monstrous glass turd of hotel and offices.

Leave our history alone, you worthless shit-stains.

Where in the World?

So where am I?

I don't mean today (I'm in the office in the middle of a Norwich Castle meeting); I mean where was I when I took the photo?

WTF Monday - Christmas in July.

Robert, Gerry and Tony looking atypically glum at Breakfast Club on Saturday July 17th, 2021.

Take a look out the window.

Pret are selling Christmas sandwiches in July!

JULY!

I know I've said this before but I feel I am quite justified in repeating it:

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK?

Message ends …

Saturday / Sunday Stair

I'd intended to restart the old Saturday Statuary and Stained Glass Sunday photo-posts but couldn't really be arsed to venture out into the Choking Death Plague Lands with a camera, preferring instead to settle my fat arse into my gaming chair and play Fallout 4. That way, when I die I get to start again, unlike the post-apocalyptic world outside my front door.

Anyhoo, I had a rummage in my hard drive and discovered I've taken a ridiculous number of pictures of old staircases. What's more, stairs starts with an 'S' so I'm going to do a weekend stair photo-post instead. Saturday or Sunday; take your pick; I'm happy either way.

There are some very grand staircases to come but I shall start gently with a personal favourite, possibly the simplest attempt at a stair I have come across.

The enigmatic inscription incised into the stone reads "N D / 4 2 / 1829" which is odd because the house it sits in was built in the 1680s.

This stair lives in the basement of a Huguenot silk-weaver's house on Elder Street in Spitalfields, within shouting distance of the Jack the Ripper tours our Colonial friends enjoy so much. Don't step out of this door after dark or you may find yourself in Victorian London being offered laudanum-soused grapes by a dark, cloaked figure …

Friday Morning Wood - Don't Paint Your Wagon

Sing along now … "Where are we going? We don't know, When will we get there? We're not certain, All that we know is we are on our way … etc." A truly great movie for a rainy Sunday afternoon.

Anyhoo … I found this charmingly picturesque fixer-upper in the corner of a meadow behind an abandoned farmhouse in North Norfolk, part of a vast estate where Old Dive's historic building conservation talents were called upon.

I think that wheel's gonna take some fixing.

 

I'm just chock full of fun facts to bore you with today. You know that posh wainscotting round the lower walls of the homes of folk richer than myself? Well that originated as Wægnschott …

Wægn from the Saxon Middle German for wagon or wain (as in Constable's Hay Wain), and schott for sheet. Basically wain-sheet: wooden sheeting around the edges of wagons to stop all the stuff falling out.

As the centuries passed, wægn became wain and schott lost its 'h' and Saxon eorls and later Norman barons started to put wain-scot around the bases of the walls of their halls and manor houses.

Back then animals were kept in the great hall and the family ate and slept up at one end on a raised dais to keep them out of the pee and the poo. The wainscotting protected the wattle and daub walls from the faunal effluvia and as time passed the feature was retained in wealthier houses.

This old wagon (built in 1830 … the estate records are remarkably complete and a treasure house for an obsessive old Aspy like me) retains its wægnschott but I think it'll take more than a lick of paint to get it up and running again.

Wednesday Window With Cobwebs (again)

It's Wednesday. It's a window. Why complicate things?

Dentistry, Castle Style

 

Sometimes you just gotta drill out that old filling.

Ahh … That feels much better.

If you remember, when Boardman's team demolished Soane's prison blocks within the castle keep, they found he'd built them on six to eight feet of - well basically, shit … six-hundred years worth of poo and rubbish from the torture chambers and cells of the early gaol.

This was actually quite fortunate for us as the lower parts of the basement stonework remained undisturbed by Soane's vandalism.

Boardman inserted a lower floor at the same level as Soane's ground floor and made up the difference in levels with massive slabs of concrete plonked on top of the original Norman stonework (see top photo).

That nice man with his monster dentist's drill crunched his way through most of it and the archæologists finished the job and now we have a lovely piece of the original Norman keep basement on display.

Meanwhile … Back in the Dungeons of Norwich Castle

"Dammit! Now I've got to drill my way out."

Friday Morning Wood

The stable door's locked but it looks like the horse has bolted.

The Return of "Wednesday Window"

Chicken wire and cobwebs … apparently it's a thing.

WTF Monday

What's known round these parts as a "Mother-In-Law Door".

"Come on, dearie … out you go …"

Yup, it's another ancient door for you to find and fondle. This one's in Cambridge and forms part of Queen's College.

Friday Morning Wood - A Thousand-Year-Old Oak

Hokay, so I was out at an historic estate on Tuesday, advising on repairs to a Victorian model farm (a collection of barns, cattle, sheep and pig buildings, courtyards for Suffolk Punch shire horses, cart sheds, dairy, game-hanging rooms, stables, etc.) when I turned a corner and saw this …

The estate owner was with me and was delighted at my reaction to the old oak. He told me that the AD 1600 estate map had it specifically marked as a "specimen tree" meaning it was already fully mature and a major feature of the landscape.

The county council's arboriculturalist estimates that it is at least one-thousand years old and the poor thing had to endure me hugging and stroking it.

Gorgeously gnarly or what? Unfortunately the weather was crappy so I couldn't get the light right but how could I resist taking a few shots?

I looked into the history of the estate (we've had some rainy lunchtimes here) and found it was created in AD 959 by the Saxon King Edgar and granted to the monastery at Ely.

In AD 1042 the grant was reaffirmed by King Edward the Confessor and after the Norman Conquest it is listed in the Domesday Book as having been taken over by one Walter of Caen.

In the many mediæval wars and rebellions it appears to have been wrested from its Norman owners by a subsequent reigning monarch (probably Henry II after the Anarchy) as the next we hear of it is at the end of Elizabeth's reign in AD 1600 when it was purchased from the Crown and the estate map drawn up showing the oak as a specimen tree.

 

Oaks are susceptible to branch drop (always be wary of sheltering under them in a storm) and this one has had its fair share over the centuries but from at least AD 1600 has obviously been well cared for.

So there it proudly stands. With love and attention it should have many more centuries of life to enjoy. The estate owner is certainly proud of it. If it were planted at the founding of the estate it would be one-thousand-and-sixty-two years old this year but of course it could be even older. 

It reminds me of the ancient oaks around Venta Icenorum, my local Roman fortress and market that was built to punish the Iceni after Boudica's rebellion. The Romans nailed every fighting age male survivor to the local trees in an orgy of crucifixion. The parents of some of those ancient trees still standing today may well have had Iceni villagers nailed to them in AD 60.

Amazingly, this majestic oak has not even started crown die-back, which is the sign of an ancient oak growing tired. Long may it reign.

Old Dive's History of Norwich Castle - Part the Eleventh - 1121 Revisited - Chapter X

This one's for Petrea, who got all emotional when we uncovered some original Norman ironwork, and also for Lynn, who I know (from personal experience) enjoys fondling ancient doors and has a kind of peculiar relationship with them.

Hokay, so it's not much to look at but this little beauty has survived around nine-hundred-and-thirty-odd years, through sieges, battles, fires, the ruin of the castle keep and six-hundred years of housing prisoners and torture chambers and is still with us and in excellent condition. Huzzah!

Originally it hung in the lower portion of the south-west spiral stair and would have been part of the William Rufus build, begun in 1094 and curtailed by an arrow in the lung in 1100.

I love it!

Simply two wide, vertical oak planks on one side and a bunch of the same set horizontally on the reverse, nailed together and with the original Norman hinges intact.

Yes, I've fondled it; yes, I've taken rubbings of the hinges and measured every part of it. The door is currently in protective storage at Gressenhall (Norfolk Museums' old workhouse and safe storage facility), a fabulous day out for all the family.

When our work at the castle is completed the door will be displayed properly so we can all go and ogle it. 

Just think how many times and by how many hands it has been opened and closed. The castle garrison (usually around 300 soldiers plus armourers, bowyers, fletchers and all manner of service staff) … It was there when Henry the First moved in at Christmas 1121; there through the Barons' Wars, the Anarchy and the sieges (see posts passim), there during the torturing of Lollards, Protestants, Catholics, Protestants and Catholics again; there through the successive developments of the prison buildings; there for Boardman's museum works and will continue to live there (albeit in a rather grander location) for many hundreds more years.

What tales its timbers could tell …

The Return of WTF Monday

 Noticed on the way to work … In principle, a principled Principal Contractor, perhaps.

Old Dive's History of Norwich Castle - Part the Eleventh - 1121 Revisited - Chapter IX - To Pee or to Pray; That is the Question.

Opening time at Norwich Castle Museum used to be a real pain in the butt, especially if - as is very likely here - it's raining.

Three or four coachloads of schoolchildren with their frantic teachers-cum-herders all trying to crowd into the tiny entrance hall and all yelling at once at the poor girl at the ticket machine. Anyone else trying to gain entry gets elbowed out into the rain to wait for the chaos to subside.

Not for much longer, however … The old service entrance to what was the 1960s café (round the back of the panopticon prison) will soon be the "schools" entrance, leaving the new, much enlarged reception area for Old Dive to stroll leisurely in without the shrieking riot of schoolkids.

"What's this?" I hear you gasp … A man knocking a big hole in the castle keep wall? The sacred Norman keep that Old Dive promised to protect with his life?

Scrivens, no! What we're actually doing is opening up an old doorway that was blocked in and re-faced during Wilkins' panopticon construction in the 1820s. Here are some bits of the original door's ironwork concealed behind the ashlar facing.

And here's a hinge from the other jamb. Opening up this doorway will provide a sufficiently upgraded means of escape in case of fire which will allow for the extra numbers of visitors when the Great Hall is booked for weddings and events.

Plus, of course, it is restoring an original Norman feature to the castle keep, which makes me and the Norfolk Museums folk very happy.

Meanwhile … upstairs in the corner …

He's either peeing or praying … I felt understandably disinclined to ask which or why.

Blogville Booming!

EXTRA! EXTRA! Read all about it! Blogville is undergoing a population boom. Not just Old Dive wandering back to town but now our Robyn has moved back in. She's just down the street so click on my "Scout" link in the sidebar to see what she's been up to.

Warning! There be bears!