Showing posts with label UK-England. Show all posts
Showing posts with label UK-England. Show all posts

Friday 2 September 2022

The Plague Village of Eyam and Stella's Kitchen

A Village of Self-Sacrifice and a Unique Restaurant

The Idea


Derbyshire
In April 2020, when the Covid lockdown was at its most Draconian, I posted Swynnerton: A Village in Lockdown. I thought at the time it would be interesting, when this was all over, to visit Eyam and see how their experience of the plague compared with our experience of Covid.

The idea went on the back burner for a while. Then my friend Brian pointed me towards an episode of the Hairy Bikers Go North which featured Stella’s Kitchen, just outside Eyam. A historical trip with a special lunch seemed an ideal birthday day out, and so it became.

The Peak District

Although it is less than 45 miles from home, the journey to Eyam takes an hour and a half. The village is in the Derbyshire Dales, in the heart of the Peak District, Britain’s oldest National Park…

The Peak District and Eyam

… and roads in National Parks are not engineered for speed.

A Peak District major road - and there are many lanes

We crossed the southern end of the Peak District, known as the White Peak, a limestone upland riven with deep valleys. In summer it can look colourful and bucolic, but in the winter it becomes muddy and monochrome.

The White Peak, drystone walls and green fields

The north end, the Dark Peak consists of moorland over Gritstone so it looks wild (and muddy) all year round. A few hills rise from both the limestone and gritstone (see Shutlingsloe; Cowpat Walk 5) but despite the name, the Peak district has little in the way of peaks.

Eyam

Eyam is a large village with almost 1,000 inhabitants. As so often in Peak District villages, houses have dark stone walls and dark slate roofs. They do not look their best when the weather is wet or gloomy, but on a sunny summer’s day, festooned with hanging baskets, they are a delight,

Eyam (a photo with no hanging baskets and four empty window boxes!)

Tax records suggest the population in the 17th century was about 750. The population of many Peak District villages has dwindled over the last couple of centuries as traditional industries have disappeared. Eyam’s lead mines have long been worked out, cottage industries like shoemaking and wool and silk weaving moved into factories in towns, even the dairy industry has departed looking (quite literally) for greener pastures than Eyam's cool climate and poor soil can provide.

But tourism has seen Eyam buck the trend; it is not just another pretty Peak District village, it is a plague village with a unique story.

Bubonic Plague

Originating, probably in China, around 1330, the Black Death moved westward. Medieval people travelled less and more slowly than we do, Covid took weeks to reach Wolverhampton from Wuhan, the Black Death took 16 years to arrive in what is now Türkiye. Spread within Europe was faster, the disease reaching these islands in 1349. It died away in 1351 after killing 25-30% of Europe’s entire population.

It died away but never disappeared, a second outbreak in England ten years later killed a further 700,000 out of a surviving population of 2.5 million.

Sporadic outbreaks continued across Europe for the next 500 years. In London in 1592-3 the plague, as it was now called, killed 20,000 and closed the theatres. Shakespeare fled to Stratford and wrote 5 plays, though not his best, those came later. A major outbreak hit London in 1665. It took a while for the news to reach Eyam, and when it did, they saw in reason to worry. London is 140 miles away, surely a safe distance.

The Plague Comes to Eyam

In early September 1665 a parcel of clothes sent from London was delivered to Alexander Hadfield, the village tailor. He lived a cottage near the church with his wife, Mary, Edward and Jonathan Cooper, her two sons from a previous marriage, and his assistant/servant George Viccars.

The package was opened by Viccars on the 6th of September. Some stories say he found the clothes damp, so hung them up to dry. Whether he did, or not, Viccars soon showed symptoms of plague, and was dead by the end of the next day. Four-year-old Edward and twelve-year-old Jonathan died within weeks. Alexander Hadfield, avoided infection then, but succumbed later in the outbreak. Mary Hadfield survived though she lost 13 relatives. The house became known as ‘Plague Cottage.;

Plague Cottage, Eyam

Plague also cut a swathe through their neighbours. At Rose cottage, next-door Thomas and Mary Thorpe and all their seven children would die…

Rose Cottage, Eyam

…on the other side Peter Hawksworth and his son Humphrey died at the start of the outbreak. Peter’s wife, Jane, survived but lost 25 relatives.

The Hawksworth Cottage, Eyam

Plague: How not to Catch it and How to Cure it if you Do

In the 17th century diseases were thought to be caused by miasma, bad air that could be detected by its evil smell. To protect themselves people would carry posies of sweet-smelling flowers or smoke a pipe and surround themselves with a cloud of tobacco smoke.

But these methods did not even address the right problem. The plague is actually a disease of fleas. The disease killed the rats they usually fed on, so they moved on to humans, it killed the humans too and then it killed the fleas.

Ring-a-ring o' roses,
A pocket full of posies,
A-tishoo! A-tishoo!
We all fall down

Eyam’s plague museum resides in the former Methodist chapel. Putting a bacillus on display is not practicable, so it is, inevitably, a little short on artefacts, but its plentiful and excellent explanation is a major source for what follows.

Eyam plague museum

One artefact it does have, however, is a plague doctor’s suit, recently made to the traditional design. I am not sure how realistic his height is, but the beak would have been stuffed with posies to minimise any chance of breathing in the deadly miasma.

Lynne and the Plague Doctor, Eyam Musuem

The suit looks less bizarre when compared with some suggested treatments. If there do a blotch appear; take a pigeon and pluck the feathers off her tail, very bare, and set her tail to the sore, and she will draw out the venom till she die; then take another and set her likewise, continuing so till all the venom be drawn out, which you shall see by the pigeons, for they will all die with the venom as long as there is any; also a chicken or hen is very good. (thanks to the Museum for that).

Covid is different, spreading either through contact with droplets or inhalation of aerosol (an odourless miasma!) expelled by sufferers’ coughs and sneezes. Masks, social distancing and sanitisation of hands and anything they would touch are the best preventions. Most of us dutifully followed the instructions, and they were effective - up to a point.

Treatment came from a growing list of anti-viral drugs like remdesivir and dexamethasone (who makes these names up?) but the game changers were the vaccines.

It is easy to mock the long beaks and plucked pigeons of the 1660s, but they did their best, given the knowledge of the time; they had no drugs, and no concept of vaccines. It is tempting to mock those, mainly in the USA, who chose their treatment for political rather than medical reasons; no masks, no vaccines, and plenty of ivermectin – very effective against parasites, but no more use against Covid than a bare-arsed pigeon. Some died for their beliefs, their choice, I suppose, but their arrogant selfishness was a danger to all. It is wholly appropriate to mock our (thankfully ex) prime minster, who made the Covid rules but felt little need to follow them himself, and still does not understand what he did wrong.

Stella’s Kitchen

It is time to break for lunch.

Stella used to work for the UN, married a Peak district man and 14 years ago came to live just outside Eyam. Originally from Cameroon she joined the church to become part of the community, started taking food to sharing lunches and now has the Peak District's only restaurant serving African and Caribbean food. It is not entirely a conventional restaurant.

Stella's Kitchen, Eyam

Stella featured in the Hairy Bikers Go North (part 7). The link is to the BBC iPlayer and Stella’s section starts at 21 minutes. iPlayer is only available in the UK (I think) and this series of the Hairy Bikers is available only until mid-November 2022.

There is a limited lunch menu – we went for the meat platter – and on this day a limited clientele, we were the only customers. Stella has no alcohol licence; you can take your own, but I was driving and we decided to stick to her hibiscus brew, nostalgically reminiscent of the karkadeh we used to drink in Sudan all those years ago (1987 to be precise).

A glass of sorrel/folere/bissap - and other names

The meat platter has pork, chicken (cooked from scratch while we waited), fried plantain and ‘spinach supreme’. The meat was top quality and superbly cooked. I thoroughly enjoyed it all, but was mildly disappointed by the shortage of ‘unfamiliar African flavours,’ perhaps Stella plays safe at lunchtime. The evening buffet offers mores choice and things with unfamiliar names, so perhaps we should go and spend a night in Eyam sometime soon. It was my birthday, so I got a picture with the lady herself.

Me, Stella and the meat platter

Meanwhile, Back in Eyam

After 30 deaths in September/October 1665, the disease abated. There were deaths every month, but never more than a handful until spring 1666 when they started rising again.

Despite the miasma orthodoxy, it was obvious the disease spread from person to person. The plague had largely been contained in London, but the Eyam outbreak could potentially spread it much further.

Some villagers looked to the vicar, William Mompesson, for leadership but the monarchy had been restored only 5 years previously after 11 years of the puritan Commonwealth, so Mompesson approached Eyam’s former minister Thomas Stanley. Although Mompesson had replaced Stanley after the ‘Great Ejection’ of puritan ministers in 1662, the two agreed to work together for the greater good.

The finest artefact in the museum is a carved wooden bench dated 1664 bearing the names of William Mompesson and his wife Catherine. I am not sure it is best shown off in a tableau.

The Mompesson's bench, Eyam museum

They decided to put the village under, what we would might now call ‘lockdown’ until the disease burnt itself out. Catherine Mompesson could have left before the lockdown was announced in May 1666, but chose to stay and help her husband.

Under the new arrangement families were to bury their own dead wherever they could. Most were marked with nothing more permanent than a cross scratched on a stone.

Grave marker, Eyam Museum

Only one stone with a name is known to exist. The gravestone of one-year-old Alice Rag (or Wragg) was found beneath the floor of the post office during renovations in the 1960s.

Headstone of Alice (W)rag(g), Eyam Musuem

Church services were moved out of the church into a nearby natural amphitheatre to allow for what we have learned to call ‘social distancing’.

The entire village was quarantined. Supplies was sent by merchants from surrounding villages who left them on marked boundary stone. Holes were bored in the stones and filled with vinegar to disinfect coins left in payment.

The Survivors and the Dead

Deaths peaked in August when over 70 died, but by November 1666 the disease had burnt itself out. The plague in London had already been stopped in its tracks by the cleansing effect of the Great Fire of London which started today in 1666.

William Mompesson listed the deaths of 278 people, over a third of the village’s population. It is sobering to read the names of the dead. John Naylor, Ruth Talbot, Anne Chapman, Matthew Elliott all died of plague in June 1666, but they could well be the names of those who died of Covid in June 2020.

Nobody fully understands why some died and some lived through it untouched. Elizabeth Hancock was never uninfected despite burying her six children and husband in eight days. Marcus Howe, the village gravedigger handled dozens of infected corpses but came to no harm. Thomas Stanley and William Mompesson survived, Catherine Mompesson died on the 25th of August. She alone of that cohort is buried in Eyam churchyard.

The tomb of Catherine Mompesson

Led by Mompesson and Stanley, the people of Eyam made a remarkable and selfless sacrifice, but their deaths were not in vain, the disease spread no further.

And That’s the End of the Plague?

Photographs (though not the text) from here on are non-plague related photos of Eyam, it isn't all about death and disease.

Bubonic Plague has not revisited these islands since the end of the Eyam outbreak. The last outbreak in western Europe was in the 1700s. So, it’s all over, isn’t it?

Unfortunately not. Worldwide there are 1,000 – 2000 cases reported every year. Adding in unreported case, 5,000 seems a reasonable estimate with well over 100 deaths.

Eyam Hall, right in the centre of the village
Built by the Wright family in 1672. They still live there

And it does not only happen in places so eloquently described by the charming ex-president of the United States as ‘shit-hole countries'.

We spent the academic year 1983-4 in the USA living in Washington (the western state not the eastern city). One day local news reported the death from plague of a man in the city of Yakima. Yakima was 120 miles away, as the crow flies, and the other side of the Cascade Mountains, but it felt too close.

During our Spring Break perambulations, we parked our tent for a night in the Lava Beds National Monument in northern California. Signs all around the campground said (these may not be the exact words) ‘Our chipmunks look cute, but do not be tempted to pet them, they carry plague.’ We spent the next night in a motel in Klamath Falls, Oregon, partly to avoid the plague and partly because spring in northern California was so very much colder than our naive expectation.

Laburnum Cottage Eyam, mainly 18th century, but in part the oldest inhabited building
in the village. How old? Nobody's telling.

Plague still has to be watched carefully, the death rate for untreated victims, like those at Eyam is 30%-60%. It is caused by a bacterium, not a virus, so the disease can be effectively treated with antibiotics, lowering the death rate to 1%-15%. There is also a vaccine.

So Would you Prefer Plague, Covid or Cake?

Cake, thank you very much, but if it has to be a disease…..

8th Century cross, Eyam churchyard. Labelled as Celtic (seems unlikely) others
say the style is typical of the Kingdom Mercia (and Eyam was then in northern Mercia)

…we survived Covid in reasonable comfort. With no jobs to lose and a stable income, our only privation was having to cancel various trips around this country and beyond. We cancelled our holiday in Ukraine saying we would do it when Covid was over – or so we thought!. Others had a harder time, I know, but….

The village green and the stocks, Eyam

… we are all 21st century softies. I wonder how many would survive the discomfort, the dirt, the monotonous food and the inability to switch on a light or a heater when needed, never mind the plague. We are used to 21st century comfort and 21st century medical care and nobody in 17th century Eyam cancelled a holiday abroad, or had even dreamed of such a thing existing.

12th century font, Eyam Church

So the question is meaningless, and the answer remains, cake.

Tuesday 26 July 2022

Dinner at the Olive Tree, Queensberry Hotel, Bath

A Dinner of Many Delights in a Historic Setting

This post contains some pictures of Bath (at the end) but is mainly a restaurant review. Those more interested in the city of Bath should click here.

26-July-2022

47 years of marriage has turned these young people…

Wedding Day, July 1975

…into these crumblies.

Tweedledum and Alice's Granma

Crumbling is hardly a cause for celebration, but celebrate it we do, and this year we set out for Bath to dine in their very bestest restaurant (well, the only one with a Michelin Star).

Bath and the Queensberry Hotel

Bath is, of course, much older than we are, but unlike us, it shows no sign of crumbling​. The finest of English cities; a complete and carefully planned Georgian city, with medieval and Roman inclusions, Bath is a delight.

The location of Bath in North East Somerset

Somerset
Bath
We stayed at the Queensberry Hotel. According to the hotel’s blog the commissioner and original owner of the property, the 8th Marquess of Queensberry who had the townhouses built in 1771, would be proud of the namesake hotel.

Yes, but the 8th Marquess was born in 1818. His son, the 9th Marquess was responsible for boxing’s Queensberry rules and later goaded Oscar Wilde into the libel action that led to his imprisonment, but 1771 was the time of the 5th Marquess, land and racehorse owner and a dissolute gambler. Maybe he commissioned the building, but I cannot be certain.

The Queensberry Hotel, Bath

The signage is very restrained for a major hotel.

The Olive Tree Restaurant

The Olive Tree is a restaurant within the hotel. Cardiff-born head chef Chris Cleghorn has been in post since 2013. He credits his professional development to time spent with (among others) Heston Blumenthal, Adam Simmonds and particularly Michael Caines at Gidleigh Park. He won a Michelin star in 2018 and has maintained it through the last few difficult years.

He offers nine or six-course tasting menu. Back in the days when I could have eaten nine courses, I could not afford it, now I can I am struggling to eat even six. They are small dishes, but there are a lot of them. He also has vegetarian, vegan, pescatarian and dairy-free menus for those who need/prefer them.

The Six

We took our aperitif in the walled garden outside the bar. Once we had finished our drink and watched a hot air balloon pass over our heads we made our way down to the restaurant.

A G&T and a hot air balloon

Course One: Raw Orkney Scallop, Wasabi, Granny Smith Apple, Dill

Lynne loves a scallop, but since 2005, when Claude Bosi served her raw scallops cooked at the table by the magic of warm bouillon, every other chef who essays a scallop dish has been playing catch-up.

Eschewing Bosi’s minimalism, Chris Cleghorn put together a collection of flavours which might be expected to drown out the delicate scallop and then go to war with each other, but they didn’t. Served in a scallop shell on a bed of seaweed, the small pieces of scallop were book-ended by blobs the colour and texture of mayonnaise but with the flavour of wasabi, though without the heat. At the table, a spoonful of Granny Smith granita was deposited over the green liquid in the shell and melted quietly into it. Chilled, sweet, sharp, apple and fennel flavours melded happily with the wasabi and scallop; a complex and very clever dish. Lynne's second favourite scallop dish ever.

Scallop, wasabi, Granny Smith and dill

Matched wine: 2018 Rheinhessen Reisling, Weingut Winter.

Many years ago, German wines were imported in vast quantities, much of it from Hessen and labelled Liebfraumilch, or Niersteiner. It was cheap, slightly sweet and with a flavour of elderflowers. Then tastes matured and fashions changed. This dry, gently acidic, apple/citrus/mineral Riesling was perfect for its job and a world away from the cheap Hessen wines of yore. I wish such wines were more widely available, but they are tainted by association with the past.

Course 2: Veal Sweetbread, Gem Lettuce, Westcombe Ricotta, Hazelnut and Salted Lemon

This was a marvel in two parts. To the left the heart of a little gem lettuce studded with hazelnuts and smeared with Ricotta and salted lemon. The ‘Ricotta’ came from Westcombe Dairy, 20 miles to the south, who produce traditional farmhouse cheddar and use the left-over whey to make whey cheese. They have based their recipe on ricotta, the best-known whey cheese, and use that name though they are ultimately aiming for an unmistakeable West Country product. I don’t usually see the point of lettuce, but this, finished with a hazelnut vinaigrette, was intensely savoury; a little gem in more ways than one.

Lynne with a sweetbread and a gem lettuce

The sweetbread was lightly dusted with flour and cooked to perfection. Crisped on the top edge firm, yet yielding inside. I like sweetbreads but they turn up too rarely on British menus. I have eaten them in Egypt, Canada and closer to home in Gloucestershire, but never one as superbly cooked as this.

One quibble, the two parts of the dish felt rather separate. They did not work against each other, but neither did I feel they really formed a team - a thought reinforced by the plate design..

Matched wine: Blankbottle Familiemoord

Winemaker Pieter Hauptfleisch Walser’s Blankbottle labels are his way of showcasing the best vineyards he has discovered on his South African travels. They are one-offs with a label showing only a quirky name, though this is known to be a Grenache from Swartland. Served chilled it had a pleasant nose, gentle tannin but the finish was short. Grenache usually forms part of blend, and with good reason, I found this slightly disappointing.

Bread

At this point bread arrived. It always does in these meals and I never know why. The courses may be small, but there is plenty of them and I feel no need to fill up on bread - even a bread as good as this. They were rye buns, we were told, but I have never encountered rye so light in colour or weight. We shared one, out of a spirit of enquiry, but left the other, excellent though it was.

Bread!

Course 3: Cornish Monkfish, cooked over coal, leek, ginger, Vin Jaune, sea herbs.

Monkfish has a strange texture and I am never quite sure what the cook is aiming at, though this, surely was tougher and chewier than intended. Neither of us liked the Vin Jaune sauce much either.

Monkfish and Vin Jaune sauce

The little cylinders of leek, though were soft and packed with flavour. The ginger had been toned down – fresh ginger, much as I love it, would have overwhelmed the dish - to just the right note.

Matched wine:2019 Domaine de L’Idylle ‘Cuvee Emilie', Rousette, Savoie

A full-bodied wine considering its mountain origins. Some oak age apparent, good acidity, not a great deal of fruit flavour but perfect for the job it was chosen for.

Course 4:Squab pigeon, celeriac, black truffle, long pepper 

It is an age since I had a good pigeon breast, and this was as good as they come. The skin was cooked, the inside hardly at all, leaving it tender and tasty. I liked the Madeira sauce, but I find celeriac deeply uninteresting. Chris Cleghorn has a way with vegetables but even he cannot put excitement into a wedge of celeriac. The truffle was in the very pleasing blob at the front, and the long pepper..? It is, I read, slightly spicier than black pepper and has a long cylindrical peppercorn. I am uncertain as to its contribution here.

Pigeon

Matched Wine: 2012 Marqués de Zearra Rioja Gran Reserva

I was slightly miffed at Tyddyn Llan in North Wales in 2018 when at the apex of the multi-course meal they produced a Rioja Crianza when a reserva would, I thought, have been more appropriate. No such problem here, the Olive Tree gave us a gran reserve. Oaky and tannic enough to deal with the pigeon, and yet with ample fruit on the velvety finish. Excellent.

Course 5: Islands chocolate, yoghurt sorbet, perilla, Manni Olive oil.

At the base was a disc of Islands chocolate. Islands is a London chocolatier and the disc was 75% cocoa solids. Very rich chocolate-based dishes can be overwhelming and Lynne felt a little over-chocolated here. I liked the disc, with its tempered shell and different textures inside but it needed the yoghurt sorbet with its chill and acidity to provide balance. Perilla is a family of east Asian plants, some with culinary uses and with a flavour halfway between basil and mint (perhaps with a little liquorice). I am unsure about the contribution of the small slick of high-quality olive oil.

Islands Chocolate with yoghurt sorbet

Matched wine: Bodegas Hidalgo Alameda Cream Jerez

Raisins, nuts and intense sweetness. Wonderful stuff – in small quantities.

Course 6: Cheddar Valley Strawberries, coconut, Szechuan, basil

Maybe I had enjoyed too much wine, but for a moment I expected the strawberries to be cheesy. In fact, they were fine strawberries at the peak of their ripeness and completely fromage-free. The duvet of coconut (and it could have been coconuttier for my taste) was studded with marsh mallows. We were promised Szechuan grains, but the lip tingling sensation of Szechuan pepper never came. It was a very pleasant final dish, but a little tame.

Strawberries

Matched wine: 2018 Gusborne Rosé, Kent

I have been slow to recognise the quality of English sparkling wines but realised some months ago that Kent sparklers could be exceptional. This was our first Kent rosé sparkler. ‘Strawberries’ we said simultaneously after the first sip. To quote the growers, the palate shows bright red fruits, driven by ripe strawberries, fresh cherries and redcurrants, with a crisp freshness and creamy, rounded texture on the finish. That about covers it.

Our anniversary dinner ended with a chocolatey message.

Chocolate-y message

It had been a long dinner of great variety and technical skill, impeccably served. The Granny Smith granita melting into the fennel, the sweetbread and the pigeon breast had stood out. The monkfish was less successful, but I would have been disappointed if there was nothing to quibble about. The wine flight was the best chosen and highest quality of any we have encountered. In some places the quality has failed to match the hefty price, but not here.

27-July-2022

Breakfast

What does a breakfast look like when prepared in a Michelin starred kitchen? It is a fair question and the answer is that there are choices, but for many it looks much like breakfast in any B&B, even down to the brown sauce. It is, perhaps, a little more carefully arranged on the plate and it will never look greasy, but otherwise…

Breakfast

What sets this apart from all but the best B&Bs is the quality of the ingredients. The bacon and sausage does not leave a watery deposit when grilled, the mushroom has not just been sprung from a catering pack. The provenance of all the components is known, almost to the field.

Bath

Before departing we took a short walk. As I said at the start, I have a dedicated Bath post from 2013, but I could not ignore our surroundings completely.

The Circus

Designed by John Woods (the Elder) in 1750 and finished a decade later by his son, John Woods (the Younger) the Circus is a design in elegant living. That it produces the same road lay-out as would later be co-opted by the relentlessly functional roundabout is an irony. A circle of houses is difficult to photograph, as I noticed last time I was here.

The Circus, Bath

Many of the surrounding roads are, in their own way, perfect, but sometimes it feels as though in Bath it is easier to buy a work of art than a scrubbing bush.

Another perfect Bath Street

The Royal Crescent

Perfectest of all is JW the Younger’s Royal Crescent.

The Royal Crescent, Bath

In the centre is the Royal Crescent Hotel. I thought the signage at the Queensberry was restrained, here it is so restrained as to be absent.

The door to the Royal Crescent Hotel (middle of picture)

Though the cars parked nearby give it away.

I could afford the Honda!

I like the way the BMW seems to stand deferentially behind the Bentley and Rolls Royce, while the cheerful little Honda poses confidently at the front.

A basic room at the Royal Crescent costs over 50% more than at the Queensberry, but their six-course tasting menu is a little cheaper – because they do not have a Michelin starred chef.

The final picture of Bath (for this visit)

Enough petty points scoring, we will leave Bath with the pretty picture above.

'Fine Dining' posts

Abergavenny and the Walnut Tree (2010)
Ludlow and La Bécasse (2011) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn)
Ilkley and The Box Tree(2012)
Pateley Bridge and the Yorke Arms (2013) (No longer a restaurant, post renamed Parceval Gardens and Pateley Br)
The Harrow at Little Bedwyn (2014)
The Slaughters and the Lords of the Manor (2015)
Loam, Fine Dining in Galway (2016)
Penarth and Restaurant James Sommerin (2017) (restaurant closed, post withdrawn. JS has a new restaurant in Penarth)
The Checkers, Montgomery (2017) (no longer a restaurant, post withdrawn. Now re-opened under new management)
Tyddyn Llan, Llandrillo, Denbighshire (2018)
Fischer's at Baslow Hall, Derbyshire (2019)
Hambleton Hall, Rutland (2021)
The Olive Tree, Queensberry Hotel, Bath (2022)
Dinner at Pensons near Tenbury Wells (2023) (restaurant closed Dec 2023, post withdrawn)

Wednesday 25 May 2022

Torquay and Around (2): Buckfast Abbey, Newton Abbot and Compton Castle

A Resurrected Abbey, a Fine Local Museum and a Historic Castle

A Brief Introduction


Devon
Torbay
Torquay and Around (1) dates back to April 2016, but we have spent a few days with Brian and Hilary every year (Covid permitting) since their move to Devon. The lack of blogs from the intervening years is no reflection on our generous hosts, it is just a combination of what we did, the weather and other commitments, bloggy or otherwise.

They live in a spacious third floor apartment with a fabulous view of the sea from their living room window, and a sheltered sun-trap of a balcony on the landward side. There was, though, precious little sun to trap this year.

B & H's sea view, Torquay

Never mind, we got about between the showers. The following visits took place on the 23-25 of May in roughly the order below.

Buckfast Abbey is near Buckfastleigh, and Compton Castle is roughly half way between Newton Abbot and Paignton

Buckfast Abbey

The little village of Buckfast and its larger neighbour Buckfastleigh, sit on the edge of Dartmoor a 40-minute drive from Torquay.

A Benedictine Abbey was founded in or near Buckfast in 1018. The site of the Saxon church is unknown, but by Benedictine standards it was ‘poor and unprosperous’ (Buckfast Abbey History). In 1136 King Stephen gave Buckfast to the Savignacs, who merged with the Cistercians in 1146 who could easily afford to build a sizeable Abbey on the current site.

The modern Buckfast Abbey, not the 1146 version (photographed on a sunny day in April 2017)

The abbey thrived, and by the 14th century fishing and the wool trade had made it one of the wealthiest in south-west England.

Buckfast Abbey interior

In 1539 the Dissolution of the Monasteries saw the lead stripped from the roof and the walls demolished, the stone being eagerly re-used by local builders.

The hair shirt of St Thomas More, above the altar of a side-chapel, Buckfast Abbey

In 1882 a group of French Benedictine monks bought the site with the intention of re-founding the monastery. The Abbey was formally reinstated in 1902 and Abbot Anscar Vonier, finding materials and expertise where he could, set about building a new church on the footprint of the former abbey church. The work was completed in 1938 and the Abbey has continued to the present day, now having about a dozen monks.

One of  the delights of previous visits has been the shop, with handicrafts from abbeys all over Europe and, more to my taste, treats like Trappist beers from Belgian monasteries and rillettes – strangely difficult to find in this country – from an abbey in France. This time the shop was almost empty, the treats vanished. There was no clear explanation, but this is another of the ‘advantages’ of Brexit.

Coleton Fishacre and a Picnic

The full story of Coleton Fishacre is told in Torquay (1), but we also visited the garden in 2017 and again this year. The house, just outside Brixham, is owned by the National Trust, but was built for the D’Oyly Carte family in the 1920s. It is a fine example of an early 20th century country house.

Coleton Fishacre

The garden tumbles down a narrow valley to the sea. Aided by a warm microclimate the gardeners have produced something special, though there was more colour in our visits in the April sunshine than on this dank May day.

Gunnera - huge and heavily armed it feels a most threatening plant, Coleton Fishacre

We had taken a picnic, so braving the weather, we drove up nearby Scabbacombe Lane to a suitable spot. For a brief while the clouds obligingly parted and the sun shone, though with negligible warmth. Even this half-hearted reprieve was short lived and we opted out of the planned coastal walk.

Cool Picnic, Scabbacombe Lane

Newton Abbot

For most visitors, Newton Abbot is the gateway to Torquay. Whether arriving from Exeter on the A380 or Okehampton on the A382, you have to deal with all or part of the town. On a couple of occasions, I have spent more time traversing Newton Abbot than I considered reasonable, and I did not think fondly of the town. However, when a visit was suggested, I went with an open mind. I had set wheel in Newton Abbot but never foot, so it deserved another chance.

The Newton Abbot Town and GWR Museum

Recently rehoused in a 19th century church in the town centre, the cunningly designed and well thought out museum packs a great deal into a relatively small space.

Local History

Between 1246 and 1251 the New Town of the Abbot (that’s the Abbot of Torre in Torquay, not Buckfast, there were plenty to choose from in those days) was given the right to hold a weekly market on Wednesdays. Across the little River Lemon, Newtown Bushell (the Bushells were local landowners) gained the same right for Tuesdays. There was enough trade for both to flourish and the arrangement continued until 1633 when the markets and towns combined under the name of Newton Abbott. The Lemon, rising on the flank of Haytor on Dartmoor and 10 miles later flowing into the head of the Teign estuary, now runs beneath the centre of Newton Abbot in a 400m long tunnel. Lemon is derived from a Celtic word for elm, the citrus groves of Devon remain just a potential benefit of global warming.

The South Devon and the GWR

The South Devon Railway arrived in Newton Abbot in 1846. Brunel used the Teignmouth – Newton Abbot stretch to experiment with an ‘atmospheric railway’, a train driven by air pressure. It was a popular idea at the time and the small-scale model in the museum works perfectly but even Brunel could not make it work at large scale.

By 1876 most railways serving the southwest had become part of the Great Western Railway. The GWR developed repair and maintenance sheds at Newton Abbot and by 1930 they employed 1,000 workers. The sheds have all gone now and Newton Abbot’s days as a railway town are over, but the museum has a mock up of an old signal box, and where signals along the line were changed by pulling levers directly connected to them. Anyone can have a go, it is great fun for children of all ages, and for children of my age (70+) it is a comforting moment of 1950s nostalgia.

Two other exhibits to catch my eye were the ‘diving machine’ and the ‘foeffee chest’.

John Lethbridge’s Diving Machine

Wool merchant turned inventor, John Lethbridge perfected his diving machine in his garden pond in Newton Abbot before taking it to London and displaying it to the masses. On that occasion he was lowered into the water from a boat and stayed there for half an hour. He could see, downwards at least, through a glass ‘window’ and could use his arms inside the leather sleeves. To what purpose? One might ask. In his first commercial venture off Cape Verde, he retrieved 27 cases of silver, 868 slabs of lead, 64 cannons and 11 anchors.

Modern replica of John Lethbridge's diving engine

‘Silver fishing’ was big business, but highly dangerous. Fishers were dependent on being hauled up at the right time, and failures of the winch, ropes, pulleys or seals were usually fatal.

John Lethbridge died in his bed in 1759 aged 83, having made his last dive two years earlier

Feoffee Chest

A wonderful word and a wonderful chest: the Parish of Woolborough (long ago absorbed into Newton Abbot) kept its important documents in this chest. It has eight locks and each of the eight feoffees (trustees) had a key to one of them so all had to be present to open it. Eventually it was replaced by a dull but efficient safe and was lost. It was rediscovered in the attic of Newton Abbot workhouse in 1896. Over the centuries the many feoffees included Parliamentarian General Sir William Waller and the diver John Lethbridge.

Feoffee chest, Newton Abbot Musuem

After the museum, we had intended to explore Newton Abbott on foot, but the weather had other ideas, so we drove south to Compton Castle.

Compton Castle

Getting There

Newton Abbot to Compton is 4 mile down the A380 to the delightfully named village of Ipplepen, then left toward Paignton (silent ‘g’) along the less charmingly monikered Gropers Lane.

Ipplepen Info claims the name has Celtic origins and has been variously spelled over the years (where hasn’t?) The more authoritative Nottingham University Key to English Place Names says it is Old English, and it was here Ipela penned his animals. But for the village, Ipela would have been as forgotten as the unfortunately named Snot who donated his name to Nottingham (I jest not).

I have found no information about Gropers Lane, but such names and more vulgar variations (sniff the smelling salts, Fanny, before looking at Wikipedia) were common in medieval cities and denoted a street of brothels. Sensibilities change and so do names, over time many morphed into Grove Lane or Grape Lane. But this was an urban phenomenon, and every one of the 1,945 metres (streetlist.co.uk) of Gropers Lane is relentlessly rural.

The Gilbert’s Castle

Compton Castle, now owned by the National Trust, is more of a fortified manor house than a castle, but it is a magnificent fortified manor.

Compton Castle

Sir Maurice de la Pole had a castellated house here in the reign of King Henry II (1154–1189). Later, the manor passed into the hands of the Compton family who built an undefended manor house in the mid-14th century. The Comptons gave way to the Gilberts who added the fortress-like front in the 1520s.

Through the forbidding gatehouse with double portcullises…

Gatehouse, Compton Castle

…is a quadrangle with a chapel on the right...

Courtyard, Compton Castle

...which appears to still be in use.

Chapel, Compton Castle

Sir Humphrey Gilbert

Best known of the Gilberts was Sir Humphrey Gilbert (1539–1583). He and his half-brother Sir Walter Raleigh are alleged to have shared the first pipe of tobacco smoked in England at Compton.

Sir Humphrey was a complex character. His brutality in Ireland where he was involved in putting down the First Desmond Rebellion (1569-73) was extreme even by the standards of the time, while in the mid-1570s he devoted himself to writing and promoting education and the arts. Thereafter he turned to exploration and adventuring, applying himself with more enthusiasm than skill.

In 1583 he led a small fleet to Newfoundland in HMS Squirrel, a ship that had featured in some of his earlier adventures. The way the story is spun one might assume he discovered Newfoundland though John Cabot had been there 90 years earlier and St John’s was a well-established port occupied, if only seasonally, by fishermen.

Gilbert arrived, claimed Newfoundland and all surrounding land for Queen Elizabeth, accepted the gift of a dog from the locals and then he set off home. HMS Squirrel foundered in a storm off the Azores and Gilbert drowned. In his memory, squirrel motifs abound at Compton Castle.

A Squirrel on one of the chapel pews

And in memory of all the Tudor adventurers and legitimised pirates there is usually a volunteer somewhere on the premises in Tudor costume.

There is still at least one Tudor at Compton Castle

After the Tudors

The Gilberts sold the estate in 1785. The need for fortified manors had passed, the castle was allowed to deteriorate and eventually the Great Hall roof fell in. Walter Raleigh Gilbert, a young naval officer and a Gilbert descendant bought the ruin in 1931. In 1951, after much rebuilding and restoration, he donated Compton to the National Trust on the condition that members of the family should continue to occupy the castle. They still do, administering it for the Trust.

The Rest of the Castle

The chapel and Great Hall form opposite sides of a quadrangle. The Great Hall with Sub Solar and Solar behind are open to the public. The private residence is in a large wing forming the end of the quadrangle and continuing behind, leaving the rest of the enclosed space as a garden.

Walled Garden, Compton Castle

Sadly, no photographs were allowed inside. The Great Hall, filled with Gilbert memorabilia, has the feel of a medieval hall, despite the new roof. With modern furniture the Sub Solar has a veneer of modern comfort, while the Solar, reached by a vertiginous 15th century spiral staircase, feels more spartan. There is a small ‘snug’ beyond, but the vast fireplace and modern heating equipment are a reminder of how difficult it is to heat a building of this age to modern standards.

The kitchen is at the end of the main wing. A warm if rather smoky place, it was once a separate building so any inadvertent fire could be easily contained. The trade-off was that, in winter at least, the castle’s inhabitants would never get a hot a meal.

Kitchen, Compton Castle

The Last Evening and Beyond

Hilary had cooked two splendid dinners during our stay so on the last evening she deserved a rest. We ventured out on foot to a harbour side bar for a drink. Despite the ecologically indefensible space heaters on the terrace, the nippy breeze made inside the only sensible choice.

Afterwards we walked round to the Junjaow Thai restaurant. Between the four of us we ate prawn and chicken pad thais, a green curry and two red curries. It is few years since we have been to Thailand and the flavours were authentic enough to bring back pleasant memories.

The next morning, we took our leave. Despite the uncooperative weather, we had spent a very pleasant and convivial few days with Brian and Hilary, eaten and drunk well and visited some interesting places. Thanks to both for their hospitality, and particularly to Hilary for all the hard work in the kitchen and the excellent dinners that work produced.