Socialist Realism and some Western Fantasies

In Praise of Bad Art

Let’s get the confession out of the way right at the start: I don’t know much about art, but I know what I like.

This is not, for once, the precursor to an ill-informed rant about ‘modern art’, it is merely a statement of fact. I studied sciences at school and engineering at university but when I became a teacher I returned to mathematics, always my favourite school subject (and that, no doubt, proves to some that I am, at the very least, odd). I spent my last art lesson, aged 14, as I spent most cleaning brushes and sharpening pencils, I had learned long before that any ‘art’ I produced would be not just bad but embarrassing, so I produced none – and have continued to produce none for the next 58 years. I am not going to change now.

Socialist Realism

But that does not mean I do not appreciate other’s efforts. This post is an appreciation of one, odd, quirky artistic backwater that we have encountered in our travels. Socialist Realism is probably of more interest to students of politics and sociology than of art, but I know what I like – and I like it.

The Leaders

The 1917 Russian Revolution was a major convulsion. The past was over, everything, including art, had to begin again. Many within the artistic community were happy to be co-opted into the new future.

An enormous head of Lenin, Ulan Ude in the Russian far east

Stalin, like Hitler, had no time for decadent artforms, but the idea of Socialist Realism emerged slowly, the term being first used in 1932. In 1934 the four guidelines of Socialist realism were laid out at the 17th Congress of the All-Union Communist Party.

Lynne and Uncle Joe, Stalin's birthplace museum, Gori, Georgia

Art must be:

1) Proletarian: art relevant to the workers and understandable to them.
2) Typical: scenes of everyday life of the people.
3) Realistic: in the representational sense.
4) Partisan: supportive of the aims of the State and the Party.

Waiting for the firing squad?
Stalin, Lenin, former Albanian leader Enver Hoxha (and some extras) stored in a rarely visited corner of Tirana castle

So how do the works above measure up to the guidelines?

An 8m high, 42 tonne head of Lenin erected in 1970 to celebrate the 100th anniversary of his birth is easily understood by all workers: it says THE PARTY IS IN CHARGE literally (almost) in caps lock. What it means for it to be in situ 30 years after the end of the USSR is another question. The other statues said the same, only more quietly, but their new locations have changed the message. They now say: the party’s over.

All are undoubtedly realistic, Lenin very much so. Stalin looks like he was carved in frozen yoghurt and is now melting, but it is obviously him. The Albanian examples are not such good likenesses, though they have been bashed around and Enver Hoxha is hiding his face with his arm. The stone carving at his feet is actually a good likeness of him, despite the smashed nose – the least he deserved from an ungrateful nation with much to be ungrateful for.

Enver Hoxha with broken nose, Tirana Castle, Albania

That they are partisan is unquestionable, but Guideline 2...?

Peasant Wedding, Peter Breughal the Elder
(public domain)

Well, three out of four is not bad, but Peter Breughel the Elder also scored 3 out 4 - several times. The Peasant Wedding, for example, is proletarian and easily understood, is a scene of everyday life and is realistic. As for supporting the aims of the Party, Breughel died 300 years before 'The Party' was born so could neither support nor oppose. However, he depicts peasants/proletarians as human beings with our well-known virtues and vices, so, I think, too much realism for Socialist Realism.

Perhaps the rulers are not the most distinctive parts of Socialist Realism, I see little intrinsic difference between a statue of Lenin and one of Queen Victoria or Winston Churchill. So, lets have a look at the Proletarian struggle.

The Soldiers

But first, a folk hero. David of Sassoun is the hero of the Rebels of Sassoun an epic Armenian poem of unknown antiquity, first written down in 1873 after a millennium or so of oral transmission. The soviet authorities cautiously approved of national heroes; if they could not be linked to any modern political faction, they could be co-opted to the proletarian cause.

David of Sassoun, Yerevan, Armenia

A statue was erected outside Yerevan station in 1939 to celebrate the (conveniently invented) 1,000th anniversary of the poem. It was destroyed in 1941 when sculptor Yervand Kochar was accused of praising Adolf Hitler, but Kochar survived and kept his gypsum original. In 1959 a new casting was made to belatedly celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Russian revolution. It was in poor condition when visited in 2003.

And the guidelines? Proletarian? Yes, a folk tale is a story of the proletariat. Partisan? Yes, David of Sassoun was officially viewed as a proto-communist. Typical? You cannot have everything! Realistic? Look at those tree-trunk legs!

And here we encounter a problem that runs through all warriors in Socialist Realism. Proletarian soldiers must look impressive, like this chap on guard at Gjirokastër castle in Albania…

Soldier, Gjirokastër Castle, Albania

...or, better still, superhuman like this intimidating group of North Korean heroes. This is realism only for the deluded. The man firing the gun (his forearm like David of Sassoun’s leg) sensibly crouches behind the shield, but the lunatic with flag clearly has a death wish. And the man just behind? A fine physical specimen, maybe, and remarkable clean, as men involved in warfare seldom are, but he is the only North Korean male I have ever seen sporting a side-parting.

Heroic DPRK soldiers, Fatherland War Liberation Museum, Pyongyang

We saw many soldiers during our week in North Korea. They were small, proud men in cheap, poorly made uniforms one size too large. No one below the rank of colonel gets a uniform that fits, or perhaps no one below that rank eats well enough to fill the uniform they are given. None of them looked like any of the group above.

Workers, Peasants, Men, Women and Children, More Fighters, More Leaders

Long Live the Great socialist October Revolution , 31st Anniversary (1948)
City Museum, Tallinn, Estonia

The men above, and the peasants, children etc immediately above and below exemplify the problem of Socialist Realism. Scenes of everyday life (and warfare) must support the aims of the party. So, soldiers must be heroic, and workers must be happy and thriving, and owe that to the party, and know they owe it to the party.

Long live the Estonian Soviet Socialist Republic, 11th Anniversary
City Museum, Tallinn, Estonia

Somewhere in the corner, Breughal would have included a grumpy git, or somebody cheating in some way, but Socialist Realism cannot allow this, everybody must be cooperating happily. That you cannot please all the people all the time, is an immutable law of human nature and so Socialist Realism can never be realistic. The problem is not with socialism specifically, it is with mandating art to support the government.

When a leader joins his adoring people, realism is missed by an extra notch. Travellers arriving on Puhung metro station (one of the four stations on the Pyongyang metro open to foreigners) are greeted by no less than Kim Il Sung, the DPRK's Eternal Leader.

Kim Il Sung himself, welcomes us to Puhung station on the Pyongyang metro
Notice the miner's foot on the stairs, the DPRK is very keen on trompe l'oeil

Two Favourites

I will finish this section with my two favourites. The first is a mosaic on the façade of Tirana’s Museum of National History.

Albanian Museum of National History, Skanderbeg Square, Tirana

It displays the whole of Albanian history, starting with the Illyrians and Thracians on the left before moving seamlessly to the intellectuals of the 19th century Albanian Renaissance. On the right are the workers and peasants who saw off the Ottoman Empire in the early 20th century - one woman giving a distrustful backward glance at the intellectuals. All are led into the glorious socialist future by a worker, a soldier and an inappropriately dressed young woman with a right forearm that would not disgrace a blacksmith. She would be terrifying even if she was not carrying a rifle. Such works need to be treasured as many have already disappeared, been painted over or dismantled as Albania deals with its new reality.

Mosaic, Albanian Museum of National History, Skanderbeg Square, Tirana

The second is a painting in the lobby of the May 6th Hotel, Sariwon, North Korea which expands the delusion to a whole new level of ‘Realism’. The conceit here is not just that North Korea is a paradise, but that leaders from across the world recognise this and come to admire and seek advice from the great Kim Il Sung himself.

Kim Il Sung meets the people of the world, May 6th Hotel Lobby, Sariwon, North Korea 

Capitalist Realism?

Hitler’s tastes in art were apparently similar to Stalin’s and the Nazis promoted Heroic Realism which has a studied arrogance that Socialist Realism lacks.

"Capitalist realism" has been used to describe the Pop Art of the 1950s and 1960s and the commodity art of the 1980s and 1990s, but as a self-knowing play on "socialist realism". Search for ‘Capitalist Realism Paintings’ on google images and it is difficult to see the theme running through the results, although artwork from the Jehovah’s Witnesses magazine The Watchtower, does come up a few times; it undoubtedly has the style and lack of self-awareness, of the finest Socialist Realism.

But can there a precise western counterpart of Socialist Realism - when you are living the dream, why pretend? Yes, of course, there can, and I have two examples, one American which I call Hollywood realism, the other British, Imperialist Realism, perhaps..

British Imperialist Realism

The neo-Baroque head office of Liverpool's Royal Insurance Company was completed in 1903. It is now the Aloft Hotel where we stayed last year. A remarkable stone frieze sits below one window. The soldier-like figures suggest the British Empire is out there comforting widows and their children, building railways across the wilderness and erecting churches to shine light into the world’s darkest places - and all these activities are protected by the Royal Insurance Company.

Frieze, Aloft Hotel, Liverpool

The British empire was, of course, an unalloyed force for good in the world, spreading the benefits of civilisation and Christianity; it was never about exploiting the wealth or the inhabitants of far-away countries. There were people who believed that then – there are some who believe it now, even some in positions of power and influence.

Hollywood Realism

​In 2013 we flew into North Korea from Beijing, but returned by overnight train. We lunched in Korea, reached the border in late afternoon and rolled across the Yalu River into the Chinese city of Dandong in early evening. North Korea is the only country we have ever left with a feeling of relief and we savoured the welcoming bright lights, bustle and (yes) freedom of China.

We dined on the train after it left Dandong. In Korea food (for us) was plentiful if not particularly interesting and our Chinese dinner was like eating in full colour after our monochrome Korean lunch. But the Korean’s brew good beer, and the only beer available with with our dinner was Pabst, a brew which contributed fully to the USA’s former reputation as a beer drinker’s desert. More interesting than the beer was the artwork on the cans, a set of half a dozen, rather similar pictures, one of them reproduced below.

Pabst beer can - Heroic American Soldier, smiling, friendly and armed to the teeth
A can with bad taste inside and out?

The copyright of the above picture belongs to Interbrand and I have borrowed the artwork from their website. They inform me these special edition cans were made only for the Chinese market. I make no further comment.

Why I like Socialist Realism

I started by saying I liked Socialist Realism, I ought now to explain why.

I am not that keen on the leaders, but I love the cheerful pictures of happy workers, peasants and soldiers. But only a fool takes them at face value, behind every silver lining there is a cloud, a very obvious cloud in the case of the death-defying, North Korean, machine gunners.

Socialist Realism is, of course, fantasy, but it was conceived as realism, the irony in the name is unintentional. Many people are involved in the production of public art. A top-level decision is made to create, say, a mosaic, artists work on designs, a committee will choose the winner, workers will make the pieces and put them in place. I suspect somebody among them will honestly believe in what they are doing, though most will just get on with their jobs. But where is the belief? At the top? Among the workers? Surely not among the artists, or is it?

I love the ambivalence and ambiguity, though I admit they are easier to enjoy when they are safely in the past; some of the North Korean examples – and the American beer can – are more worrying.

…and finally…

The Korean Worker’s Party Monument in Pyongyang is a typical piece of DPRK bombast…

Korean Workers' Party Monument, Pyongyang

…but inside the circle of concrete blocks, just above head height, is a frieze, a relief of women, soldiers, children, aviators and more whose task is, apparently, to outstare the future.

Nobly attempting to outstare the future, Korean Worker's Party Monument, Pyongyang

I cannot believe there was not a knowing hand in here somewhere.

In a Similar Vein

Statues Without Plinths (2023)
Socialist Realism: In Praise of Bad Art (2022)
The Boxes of Carvoeiro (2016)

Tussocks: The (N + 11)th Annual Fish and Chip Walk

Cannock Chase: The Cutting and The Sherbrook and Oldacre Valleys

From the Cutting Car Park to the Lip of the Sherbrook Valley

Staffordshire

As the title suggest this is the 12th of these walks I have blogged and if you are thinking, ‘11th surely’, I would remind you the first was the Nth, the second (N + 1)th and so on. Last year the Christmas lockdown involved the ‘rule of 6’ (remember that? such fun!), but this year the numbers are unlimited, so there were five of us. We met, as we have the last few years at the Cutting Car Park on the edge of Cannock Chase between Millford Common and Brocton.

So here we are, Alison T, Alison C, Francis, Mike and me (hiding behind the camera), ready to set off. Lee and Sue were unavailable and Anne had cried off the day before having hurt her back during a six-hour volunteer shift at a vaccination centre. An injury nobly acquired.

Setting off from the Cuttings Car Park

It was not excessively cold, nor was it raining, but moisture hung so heavily in the air you could almost wring it out with your hands and watch the droplets cascade onto your toecaps. And humidity was not the only problem, it was not quite the shortest day of the year, but the weather gods had clearly deemed daylight inappropriate and were urging on the swirling mist below and dense clouds above as they smothered the light from the few precious hours between the late dawn and the depressingly early dusk.

The careful reader will have realised that I am wittering on about the weather (and desperately trying to crowbar in the fine Scottish word dreich, which not only says it all, but sounds like it does) because I have little to say about the route.

The Alisons lead along the line of the Tackeroo

We went round the top of The Cutting, through the woods beyond along the line of the Tackeroo and then, with some down but much more up, to the lip of the Sherbrook Valley.

Down and up to the lip of the Sherbrook Valley

This part of the route was the same as the last two years. All three differed later, but, with one possible exception, we have no previously untrodden paths in this region of the Chase. I have already written at length and in various places about The Cutting, the Tackeroo and the Glacial Boulder, so I will not repeat myself, but there is a blog search facility at the top right-hand corner, should you be interested.

At the bird feeding station a sign said – ‘Bird Flu, Do Not Feed the Birds.’ It is not just humans that suffer diseases – I think the little blighters should be told to wear masks.

We stopped for an early coffee, because we were where the bench was, though only Francis chose to use it.

Coffee stop

Down to the Sherbrook

Somewhere round here I usually take a picture across the Sherbrook Valley, but this year I could not see the other side. Nor could I see the bottom, but near the glacial boulder we turned down into the murky depths. It might have been a bottomless pit, but long experience suggested otherwise.

Into the misty Sherbrook Valley

At least the mist gives some atmospheric photos.

Further Down

Predictably we found the stream at the bottom, and all being double jabbed and boosted we had no problem walking on water.

The Sherbrook

Those more grounded in reality used the somewhat minimal stepping stones. I don’t think this set of stepping stones has appeared in one of these blogs before, though at least three others have.

Stepping across

Tussocks!

Over the stream we turned right, walking towards the source. Along here the water disappears and reappears and fills a couple of pools before disappearing for good. Maybe we have not walked on this side before, but Mike and I were struck by the lengthy stretch where the streambed was filled with grassy hummocks, like the heads of a gathering of green-haired goblins.

Tussocks in the Sherbrook

The tussocks were the only new thing on this walk - indeed I am not sure I have seen anything quite like them before anywhere. I have been unable to discover what sort of grass it is, the internet is excellent if you wish to buy tamed ornamental ‘tussock grass’, but little help at identifying a specimen in the wild (suggestions anyone?).[Mike suggests it is greater tussock sedge carex paniculata see comments at the end.]

Further up we recrossed the stream and climbed back up the valley’s side.

Out of the Sherbrook Valley

The Oldacre Valley, Mosses and lichens

I believed we were heading for the Katyn Memorial (search will explain what that is) but as we passed directly over Chase Road into the Oldacre Valley we must have been 1,500m north of the memorial.

The navigational demons of the Oldacre Valley had apparently taken a Christmas break, as we easily found our way down to the environs of Brocton Pool, where, according to the photo below, we paused to inspect the leaves on the ground. Actually, we had a conversation about the variety and brightness of green in the mosses and lichens around us. I was uncertain of the difference but Mike was able to point to examples of both – and on close inspection the differences are striking. Mosses are, of course, plants, and lichens, I know now, are symbiotic composite organisms that arise from algae cohabiting with fungi. Some photographs to exemplify the difference would be appropriate here, but all I have is three people staring at the ground!

Discussing lichens and mosses, or just looking at the floor?

Around Brocton Pool are a number of minor earthworks and the half-buried remains of a few brick platforms. Mike was wondering about the early industrial uses of the area but, with a few exceptions, finding information about industry on the Chase is difficult, maybe there was less than we imagine. More readily available is information about the prisoner of war and army camps from the First World War. Brocton and Rugeley camps were home to up to 40,000 soldiers in training at any one time and had the facilities of small towns. Both were dismantled after the end of hostilities. Brocton Camp lined what is now Chase Road, on the higher ground between the Sherbrook and Oldacre Valleys. We had earlier walked unawares through the middle of it. I would guess the visible remains around Brocton Pool were once part of Brocton Camp.

The end of 2021 has brought more than its share of storms culling those trees not in the best of health, including a number of Oldacre Valley’s silver birch.

Birches, some of them horizontal, Oldacre Valley

Brocton and Back to the Start

We left the Chase through a gate into the end of a residential street leading into the centre of Brocton. A couple of hundred metres up the Milford Road we turned back onto the Chase and up Mere Valley…

The bottom end of Mere Valley

…rounded a tree which has grown rather than fallen across the path…

Is this tree falling over or deliberately trying to reclaim the path

…and reached the tautologously named Mere Pool.

Mere Pool

From there it is a small step to the end of The Cutting. Earlier we had walked from the car park over the top, in winter the cutting itself is usually too wet. I had not noticed that this year had been particularly dry, in fact the opposite, but the floor of The Cutting looked remarkably dry, so that was how we walked back.

Back along the bottom of  The Cutting

Thus ended this year’s Fish and Chip Walk, all that remained was the fish and chips.

Until two years ago we walked after lunch as well, but a heavily booked Chetwynd Arms led to a late lunch in 2019 and no afternoon walk as the light was already fading. Last year pubs were closed, but this year, after some discussion, we followed the 2019 pattern with a 2 o’clock lunch booking. I am unsure if our ascent from the Sherbrook Valley well north of the previously stated goal was accidental and cut half an hour or more from the walk, or intended - I doubt Francis made a mistake - but we were in the Chetwynd arms before 1.30.

At around 10km this was the shortest ever chip walk, but I must admit I was glad to reach the end. After no serious walking since the July Macmillan Mighty Hike on the Long Mynd I was not fit, and would have struggled to go much further.

The Annual Fish and Chip Walks

The Nth: Cannock Chase in Snow and Ice (Dec 2010)
The (N + 1)th: Cannock Chase a Little Warmer (Dec 2011)
The (N + 2)th: Cannock Chase in Torrential Rain (Dec 2012)
The (N + 3)th: Cannock Chase in Winter Sunshine (Jan 2014)
The (N + 4)th: Cannock Chase Through Fresh Eyes (Dec 2014)
The (N + 5)th: Cannock Case, Dismal, Dismal, Dismal (Dec 2015)
The (N + 6)th: Cannock Chase Mild and Dry - So Much Better (Dec 2016)
The (N + 7)th: Cannock Chase, Venturing Further East (Jan 2018)
The (N + 8)th: Cannock Chase, Wind and Rain (Dec 2018)
The (N + 9)th: Cannock Chase, Freda's Grave at Last (Dec 2019)
The (N + 10)th: Cannock Chase in the Time of Covid (Dec 2020)
The (N + 11)th: Cannock Chase, Tussocks(Dec 2021)
Dec 2020 - no walk
The (N + 12)th: Cannock Chase, Shifting Tectonic Plates (Dec 2023)

East Sussex (3): Battle and Hastings

A Famous Battle, the Place Named after it, and the Place it is Named After

East Sussex

We spent a few days in Heathfield with my sister Erica and her partner Peter. They kindly took us for a day out.

Anyone brought up on the sort of school history I enjoyed might imagine there is an error in this post’s title, surely it should read ‘Battle of Hastings’. Everyone knows about the Battle of Hastings and anyone who remembers at least one date from history remembers 1066. My recollection (which may not be entirely accurate) tells me I heard the story in Infants School, complete with the tactics of William the Conqueror, and Harold getting an arrow in the eye. I recall the engagement also being referred to as the Battle of Senlac Hill. Google maps tell me Senlac Hill is 6 miles from Hastings, on the edge of a town called, not entirely coincidently, Battle.

Battle and its Abbey

In 1070, Pope Alexander II instructed William to do penance for the many killings involved in his conquest of England. William vowed to build an abbey on the site of the battle with the high altar of its church on the spot where King Harold fell. He started building, but medieval construction was slow work and he died in 1087 with it incomplete. Work continued under his son William II and the abbey church was consecrated in 1094.

The County of East Sussex
In this post we travel southeast from my sister's home in Heathfield to Battle (12m) then to Hastings (6m)

The town that grew up around the abbey became known as Battle. In the 17th century it was renowned for producing the best gunpowder in England, or possibly Europe. It is now a collection of linear developments straggling along 5 roads that converge where the Hight Street leads up to the abbey. I have found no evidence of an industrial estate or a major employer, but Hastings is within easy commuting range. The population is around 7,000 and the town looks prosperous in a Sussex-y way, the High Street having more than its fair share of attractive old buildings, all in a good state of repair.

Battle High Street

Battle Abbey Gatehouse

The Abbey gatehouse is in the High Street.

Battle Abbey gatehouse

Once through the gatehouse the obvious thing to do is climb the stairs to its roof where the information board tells us ‘William the Conqueror granted the monastery all the land within a radius of 1.5 miles of the abbey’s High Altar. The abbot had power over both church and secular life within these estates and the abbey was one of the richest in medieval England. The town grew up to serve the monastery and many of its residents were employed there. By the 14th century, Battle was the largest town in East Sussex. The centre of the town retains its medieval road plan and many of the buildings date from the Middle Ages.’ (slightly abridged)

Battle from the gatehouse roof

Turning 180° gives a view over Battle Abbey School. An independent School founded in 1912 and now with 360 students, it moved into the former Abbot’s quarters in 1922.

Battle Abbey School

Senlac Hill

Descending, we joined a guided tour led by a pre-elderly (i.e. the same age as me) enthusiast. After an introduction he took us round the perimeter wall…

Around the Abbey wall, Battle Abbey

…to look down Senlac Hill. Like the ridges at Thiepval and Passchendaele centuries later, Senlac was a minor geographical wrinkle destined to play a major role.

Looking down Senlac Hill

The job of historians (whatever the popular press may think) really is to rewrite history as they add to our knowledge and understanding of the past. I was, thus, a little surprised to find the simplified outline I had been taught in the 1950s stands unchanged.

After defeating the King of Norway and his own brother Tostig at Stamford Bridge near York on the 26th of September 1066, Harold marched 300 miles to meet the invading Normans on the 14th of October. He placed his (presumably tired) army of infantrymen behind a shield wall on the top of Senlac Hill. William, whose army including cavalry and archers as well as infantry approached from the bottom of the hill.

The battle started at dawn, and for a long time the Norman attacks had little success. Needing a new tactic, William ordered his men to make a frontal assault, then, at a signal to break and run as though giving up the fight. Thinking themselves victorious the Saxons gave chase but at a pre-arranged point the Normans turned and fought. Harold had stood firm on the top of the hill, but with the shield wall gone the result was inevitable. By dusk it was all over.

The Dorter

Despite its symbolic importance and despite (or because of) its wealth, Battle Abbey did not survive the Dissolution of the Monasteries. Henry VIII gave the Abbey and its lands to Sir Anthony Browne who destroyed the church and the cloisters and repurposed the Abbot’s quarters as a country house.

Parts of the dorter remain standing.

End wall of the dorter, Battle abbey

Coming from the same route as dormitory, the dorter was where the monks slept and also socialised, in so far as monks were permitted to.

An enthusiast shares his knowledge, inside the dorter, Battle Abbey

Tree ring analysis in 2016 suggests the timber was sourced locally and there were two phases of building in the early and later 15th century.

The Abbey Church and the Death of Harold

The Abbey church is long gone, but the ground plan is known. In the background is the parish Church of St Mary, built by Abbot Ralph in 1115 for the people of the village that had grown outside the Abbey walls. He could not know that one day his church would contain the alabaster tomb of Sir Anthony Browne who ruined his Abbey.

The Lay-out of the Abbey Church, Battle

King William had promised the High Altar of the Abbey Church would be on the spot where Harold fell, and there is a (modern) inscribed stone as a memorial. It might be in the right place; the spot where Harold’s body was found was probably marked but whether that marking lasted long enough to guide the construction of the church is anybody’s guess.

King Harold's Memorial Stone, Battle Abbey

Harold rex interfectus est - King Harold is killed

Everybody knows Harold got an arrow in the eye. The story comes from the Bayeux Tapestry, actually an 11th century embroidery, telling of the battle and the events leading up to it from the Norman point of view, though it was actually made in England. 70 m long, by 0.5 m tall, it is beautifully displayed in Bayeux in Normandy and is well worth seeing (Lynne and I have been there twice but long before this blog). Scene 57 shows the death of Harold. A figure, surely, has an eyeful of arrow, but is he the central character in the panel? Did the embroiderers actually know how Harold died, or is this a general battle scene offering a couple of possibilities. Who knows?

Brunch

I am an old man but not a grumpy old man, usually….. leaving the abbey, we walked to a pub at the end of the High Street. Erica had made a booking – this has become a wise precaution during Covid, although on this occasion we almost had the place to ourselves. She had booked lunch but we were offered a ‘Brunch’ menu, it was what they did. Erica was not pleased, it was lunch time and tarted up breakfast food was not what she expected or wanted, but we already had our drinks and inertia persuaded us to each find something to order. I have no idea what the purpose of Brunch is, I like my breakfast when I rise and a light lunch around 1 o’clock. A snack at eleven, maybe, coffee and a biscuit, but how does Brunch fit into a sensible schedule? It is a nonsense. Grump over.

Hastings

Hastings

After lunch Peter drove us down to the coast at Hastings.

A Battle and a Castle

William the Conqueror landed at Pevensey, 11 miles to the west and encountered Harold Godwinson on Senlac Hill, 6 miles to the north. Strangely, the ensuing fracas is called the Battle of Hastings, though the town’s only connection with the events of October 1066 was that William may have camped here. Clearly their publicity department was on the ball that day – I am unsure if they have ever been so alert since.

The Normans did build a castle at Hastings a little later, probably on top of a Saxon earthwork. The remains stand on a hill to the east of the modern centre and west of the old town.

Hastings Castle is on the hill behind me

Hastings as a Fishing Port

Fish Market at Hastings Beach, JMW Turner

Hastings became one of the Cinque Ports, indeed the town’s arms are a variation of those of the Cinque Ports, the single complete lion allegedly indicating Hasting was the chief Cinque Port. I find this a little odd as Hastings is a port without a harbour. Off-loading cargo without a dockside might be difficult, but it raises fewer problems for a fishing port. JMW Turner came here in 1810 to paint the fish market on the beach. The adjacent reproduction is in the Public Domain, but if you want to see the original you must visit the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art in Kansas City. Hastings, like Oz, seems a long way from Kansas, and still has the UK's largest beach-based fishing fleet.

Between the old town and the sea are the Net Shops. In the days when ropes and nets were made of natural material, dry storage was essential to prevent rotting. Fishermen originally used an ad hoc collection of huts and upturned boats between the cliffs and the sea – a much smaller space in Victorian times than it is now. The unique Net Shops, tall, narrow wooden buildings, all painted black standing in neat rows on the beach were built in response to Hastings’ 1835 town plan to make best use of the available space. 39 remaining shops form a group of Grade II* listed buildings.

The Net Shops, Hastings

Hastings as a Seaside Resort

In 1769 Scottish physician William Buchan’s popular Domestic Medicine advocated the practice of sea bathing. In 1789 George III bumbled into the sea at Weymouth hoping to aid his recovery from a bout of porphyria and soon everyone who was anyone was doing it.

The whole Sussex coast (east and west) was perfectly positioned to take advantage of this new enthusiasm. The well-healed stayed at the large hotels and, when the railway arrived, Sussex was in daytrip territory for Londoners of all classes.

Hastings built itself a pier and the requisite beach huts which have become a more versatile, if stationary, version of the Victorian bathing machines.

Beach huts and pier, Hastings

It planted some inappropriate vegetation to pretend the climate is balmier than it really is…

Hastings in wannabe Torquay mode

…and in 1891 built a funicular railway up the hill to the castle.

Different resorts developed different personalities. Brighton went for the day trippers while Eastbourne concentrated on attracting wealth retirees. Over time the resorts have had to adapt; their shingle beaches and iffy weather cannot compete with Spain, Greece or Turkey for beach holidays, but they retain the advantage of proximity to their market.

Brighton now considers itself a bit racy and a little bohemian, and since 2010 has elected and re-elected Parliament’s only Green MP, with an ever-increasing majority. Eastbourne remains God’s Waiting Room and Hastings…. well, I am not sure it ever really decided what it wants to be. There is still some fishing, it has areas of desirable housing but also areas of deprivation. The town attracts its share of those who experience difficulty fitting into modern society, a group which tends to gravitate to seaside towns, but it has never seemed to specialise.

I may have been overly unkind to Hastings and there is more to explore, but time was limited and Lynne was already sickening for a bug that would lay her low for the next two weeks.

Back to the Normans

Distracted by what appeared to be the neck and head of an iron bird emerging from the beach we interrupted our stroll along the promenade....

Lynne on the Promenade, Hastings

... and plodded across the shingle to take a look. Close up it is obviously the prow of a ship of sorts. There is lettering on one side, but we could make no sense of it.

The Landing, Hastings Beach

Sussex World informs me that it is called The Landing and represents a Norman ship, like those that landed at Pevensey 950 years ago. It is the result of a collaboration between local sculptor Leigh Dyer and the British Artist Blacksmiths Association.

In July 2016, ten mobile forges were set up near the Net Shops and blacksmiths from all over the country gathered to demonstrate their craft and. among other things, forge the pieces of The Landing. Galvanised, assembled and embedded in a sturdy foundation, the sculpture was unveiled in September 2016, the mysterious lettering the initials of donors who made the project possible. Beneath is a time capsule to be opened in 2066

Alan Turing

Before we left, Lynne insisted on Peter following an uncharacteristically uncertain sat nav in search of Bastion Lodge, the house where Alan Turing spent his childhood. This took us into St Leonard’s, once a separate town (as it is shown on the map above), but long ago absorbed into Hastings. The lodge did not make a great photograph…

Bastion Lodge, St Leonard's

…but it fulfilled some need of Lynne’s.

Alan Turing's Plaque, St Leonard's

And Finally

And so, we returned to Heathfield for another of Erica’s fine dinners. Next day it was time to head home.

Finally, a big 'thank you' to Erica and Peter who put us up (and put up with us) fed us royally and drove us around to interesting places.

With Erica and Peter in Hastings

East Sussex

Part 1:Bodiam and Rye (2020)
Part 2:Bateman's, Firle Beacon and the Long Man of Wilmington (2021)
Part 3: Battle and Hastings (2021)
Part 4: Rottingdean and The Devil's Dyke
Part 5: Lewes and Charleston (coming soon)