Tuesday 26 May 2015

Flying into FYRoM: Part 7 of The Balkans

Thoughts on the Nature of Macedonia and the (Now Resolved) Name Dispute with Greece

I'm writing this here letter from aboard a DC8
Flying into Angel Town
I hope I'm not too late
(Gunga Din, The Byrds, 1969)

Actually I'm writing this here blog post from aboard an A320, flying into Skopje and thinking that, unlike the easily rhymed DC8, this plane will never be a songwriter’s favourite. I am also mildly surprised that enough people want to fly from Luton to the Macedonian capital to fill a daily Airbus.

The Provisional Nature of FYRoM - The Former Yugolslav Republic of Macedonia

We have previously visited countries where I am unsure which name to use (see Arriving in Yangon (or is that Rangoon) the former capital of Burma (or should that be Myanmar)), but never before a country whose name is 'provisional'.

[Update February 2019: It is pleasing to occasionally encounter an international dispute that has been resolved. After an agreement in June 2018 the provisionally entitled Former Yugolsav Republic of Macedonia (FYRoM) is now officially and unprovisionally North Macedonia and everybody is happy. A simple compromise that only took 28 years!]

When Macedonia emerged in 1991 (without any shooting) from the debacle that was Yugoslavia, few outsiders expected the name of the country to be an issue and it would not be but for the touchiness of the Greeks.

The Balkans featuring the dismembered Yugoslavia

Macedonian Insensitivity and Greek 'Chippiness'?

Calling your country ‘Macedonia’, the Greeks said, implies a claim to the northern Greek province of the same name. Are the Greeks being petty? Belgium has a province called Luxembourg but I am not aware they have ever fretted that the adjacent country of Luxembourg was about to claim that part of their territory. Iran has two provinces called Azerbaijan - East and West - but is unconcerned about the existence of a nearby country called Azerbaijan. If it is good enough for regimes as different as those of Belgium and Iran, then surely it should be good enough for Greece.

The Vergina Sun on a red background, the Flag of the Republic of Macedonia 1992-5

From the off, the Macedonians upset the Greeks with their choice of flag. The Vergina Sun (or Star) is named from the Greek city of Vergina where the symbol was found on the coffin of Philip II (or possibly Philip III) and was chosen to symbolise continuity with the ancient Kingdom of Macedonia. The flag of the Greek province of Macedonia also bears the Vergina Sun and this provoked a dispute over intellectual property rights.

Vergina Sun on a blue background, The Flag of the Greek Region of Macedonia

In 1995 an agreement was reached requiring Macedonia to change its flag into the present rather cheerful banner,…

The Flag of the Republic of Macedonia 1995-present

… alter some contentious points in its constitution, and to adopt the provisional name of the Former Yugoslav Republic of Macedonia (FYRoM). 20 years on, a permanent name is no closer and FYRoM's applications to join NATO and the European Union are still being blocked by Greece. [After the 2019 agrrement, North Macedonia became a full member of NATO in March 2020]

Macedonian 'Chippiness' and the Rational Behind the Greek Position

[update next day, 27/05/15] When I wrote the above I thought the Greeks were being petty, but I had not then been to the Macedonian National Museum in Skopje. After World War One the ‘Treaty of Versailles’, to paraphrase a display in the museum, ‘gave 50% of Macedonia to Greece, 20% to Bulgaria and 30% to Yugoslavia.’ It is that 30% which is now FYRoM. In the church of Sveti Spas in Skopje we saw the grave of national hero Goce Delchev*. His sarcophagus sits on three stone slabs symbolising the three separated parts of Macedonia.

The Grave of Goce Delchev (1872-1903) sitting on three separated stone slabs, Sveti Spas, Skopje

On another wall is a map showing the ‘natural and ethnic borders of Macedonia.’ It includes FYRoM, a chunk of Bulgaria, a sliver of Albania and approximately the northern half of Greece.

A map of the 'natural and ethnic borders of Macedonia'. My memory suggests the version in the museum included even more of Greece (or Aegean Macedonia as it is called here)
'Pirin' Macedonia is currently part of Bulgaria

I now understand the Greek position better. There is no possibility that the Macedonians will try to reclaim their ‘lost lands’ by force, but the attitude remains. The Macedonians have a current policy of ‘Antiquisation’ of which the most obvious manifestations are the frequent statues of Philip of Macedon and Alexander the Great, and the naming of the main north-south motorway and Skopje Airport after Alexander the Great. The Est-West motorway (and Tirana Airport) are named after Mother Teresa who, though ethnically Albanian, was born in Skopje and so could be claimed as a Macedonian, though at the time both countries were part of the Ottoman Empire.)

Alexander the Great, Macedonia Square Skopje, completed 2011
Following Greek complaints it is now officially called 'Warrior on a Horse' (but everybody knows who the warrior is)

The majority of FYRoM’s citizens are Slavs, descendants of the Slavic tribes who migrated south into the Balkans in the 7th century AD. The inhabitants of ancient Macedonia, which was based in northern Greece but expanded to control much of what is now FYRoM, were Greeks. The modern Greek region of Macedonia is still populated by Greeks, so claims of continuity between ancient Macedonia and FYRoM are optimistic, if not downright spurious.

Macedonians, Albanians and Bulgarians

Most of Macedonia's non-Slav population are Albanian, some 20% of the total. There are tensions – the city of Kumanovo 30km north of Skopje saw a serious shoot-out only last week. Macedonians are Orthodox Christians, though the recently re-formed Macedonian Orthodox Church is not recognized by the other major Orthodox churches, while Albanians are mostly Muslims - though Mother Teresa was, of course a Catholic Christian. Complicated place, the Balkans.

Macedonian citizenship has a further twist. Bulgaria has offered its citizenship to any Macedonian of Slavic descent. There have been few takers, though some have been seduced by the prospect of a passport giving them the right to live and work anywhere in the EU. Macedonia might be expected to see this as an assault on their sovereignty, but they have reacted relatively calmly. The Bulgarians also claim that the Macedonian language is not a separate language but a dialect of Bulgarian while the Lonely Planet guide tends to treat Macedonian as a dialect of Serbo-Croat>. The fracturing of Yugoslavia led to the fracturing of Serbo-Croat into Serbian, Croatian and Bosnian (presumably the Bosnians previously spoke the hyphen). The differences are a tad subtle for the casual observer, but how close they are to Macedonian and Bulgarian is beyond my level of expertise. I speak none of them, but I am happy to note that the words I need, the words for beer, wine and other menu items are fairly standard across the Slavic world, including Russia.

We have started our descent into Alexander the Great Airport, Skopje, so I shall finish here. This is a travel blog; politics inevitably intrude, but I hope the remaining Macedonia posts will be mainly about the travelling.

*Delchev actually considered himself a ‘Bulgarian Macedonian.’ His views on that matter have been retrospectively altered by successive Yugoslav and Macedonian regimes.

The Balkans

Bosnia and Herzogivina (May 2012)

Part 1 Sarajevo (1): The Old Town, The New Town and That Assassination
Part 2 Sarajevo (2): The Seige
Part 3 Mostar

Croatia (May 2012)

Part 4 Dubrovnik (1): Around the City Walls
Part 5 Korčula
Part 6 Dubrovnik (2): Inside the Walls

North Macedonia (May/June 2015)

Part 7 Flying into FYRoM
Part 8 Skopje
Part 9 The Matka Canyon and Stobi
Part 10 Prilep and Bitola
Part 11 The Mariovo and Lake Prespa
Part 12 Ohrid, the Heart of Slavic Macedonia
Part 13 Ohrid to Albania The East Coast of the Lake
Part 14 Struga and Ohrid Trout
Part 15 Debar and back to Skopje

Friday 24 April 2015

Durham and the Angel of the North

One of Britain's Finest Medieval Cathedrals and an Awe-inspiring Modern Statue

Durham

County Durham

City of Durham

A rare visit, for us, to the north-east was occasioned by a social gathering in Stockton-On-Tees on Saturday. Having never been to Durham we thought a visit would make a pleasant starter to Saturday's main course.

With 80,000 inhabitants Durham is hardly a metropolis, but the old city, sitting on its hill within an incised meander of the River Wear, is tiny. A place of narrow lanes and old houses, it was not built with parking in mind, so we took advantage of Durham's efficient park and ride system.

The Market Square

The bus dropped us off a short walk from the market square, a pleasant flowery corner between the town hall and St Nicholas’ Church. The square was full of people in short sleeves so Lynne felt she needed a pullover and a fleece.

Durham Market Square

William Vane Tempest Stuart

The three statues in the square are all of some interest. By far the biggest is the equestrian statue of Charles William Vane Tempest Stewart (did he really need so many names?), the 3rd Marquess of Londonderry, a coal owner and the builder of Seaham Harbour. Completed in 1861, the story is told that the sculptor, Raphael Monti thought his work perfect until a blind man noticed that the horse had no tongue, whereupon a distraught Monti committed suicide. The story is more interesting than the somewhat routine statue, but happily for Monti it is entirely untrue.

Charles William Vane Tempest Stewart (to name but a few), Durham Market Square

Durham Light Infantry Memorial Stuart

The second statue is a memorial to those who fought and died as members of the Durham Light Infantry. On July 27th 1953 it was a bugler of the Durham Light Infantry who signalled the armistice in the Korean War. (As we well know from our visit to the Fatherland Liberation Museum in Pyongyang, it was an armistice not a peace treaty, the war continues.) The statue depicts that bugler.

Bugler, Durham Light Infantry, Durham Market Square

Statue of Neptune

The third is an eighteenth century statue of Neptune who stands over the outlet to a pipe that brought fresh water to the market square. Demeaning as it might be for the God of the Sea to stand over a mere water pipe, he was intended to promote a plan to turn Durham into an inland port by rerouting the River Wear. A brief glance at the relatively wide but shallow Wear suggests this plan would have been doomed to failure had it not been swiftly abandoned.

Neptune, Durham Market Square

At least the planners knew which river they were dealing with. Roger Whitaker in his 1969 hit clumsily entitled Durham Town (The Leaving) sang (link to Roger singing on YouTube)

When I was a boy, I spent my time,
Sitting on the banks of the River Tyne.
Watching all the ships going down the line, they were leaving,
Leaving, leaving, leaving, leaving me.

As a poet Roger Whitaker may not be in the same league as Rudyard Kipling, but both happily ignore geographical reality when it suits them (see The Road to Mandalay, Kipling's Version).

From the Market Square to the Cathdral

Sadler Street runs southeast off the market square. Unsurprisingly saddles were made here, but the end nearest the square, shown in the photograph, was once called Fleshergate and was home to the city's butchers. Knee deep in blood and entrails it could not have been a pleasant place.

Sadler Street, Durham

We walked south down Silver Street which drops and turns towards the 15th century Framwellgate Bridge. Just before the river an alley leads down to the 9 Altars Café, where sizeable baguettes filled with ham and mozzarella and bacon and melted cheddar provided us with a reasonably priced lunch. Café Nero, Costa Coffee and Starbucks are all nearby, but we chose to support an independent local business, and were glad we did.

Silver Street, Durham

From the end of the alley a footpath angles up sharply from the river. Turning through ‘Windy Gap’ we emerged onto Palace Green outside the cathedral. On a sunny day the green was covered with students, sitting in groups chatting or revising - though mainly chatting.

Durham Cathedral

The cathedral (along with the nearby castle a UNESCO world heritage site) is huge. Easily seen from miles away it is far too big to be satisfactorily photographed from the green. The castle belongs to Durham University and is sometimes open, but not when we were there.

Durham Cathedral from Palace Green, (I am not ignoring the castle completely, there is a photo later)

A modern copy of the sanctuary ring adorns the main door of the cathedral. Anyone accused of a crime could claim sanctuary by grasping the ring. This gave them 27 days to prepare their defence or to leave the country by the nearest available exit.

Lynne seeks sanctuary, Durham Cathedral

Although there are some later additions, most of the building was completed between 1093 and 1133. The pillars along the nave - ‘mixed and massive piles,’ according to Sir Walter Scott - are the stoutest we have seen since the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. Most are richly and differently decorated, as are the semi-circular Norman arches above. The ceiling is a fine example of medieval vaulting. As I overheard one of the guides saying, Durham Cathedral is like all of us in the northeast, solidly built to withstand the local climate and full of charm.

The Galilee Chaoel and the Venerable Bede

The Galilee Chapel is a 12th century extension at the western end of the church containing, among other things, the tomb of the Venerable Bede. You have to admire a man regarded by one and all as 'Venerable'. Among other works he wrote a 'History of the English Church and People,' the first book to use the AD dating system.

Bede died in 735 and was buried in Jarrow Abbey. After visitations from the Vikings his remains were moved to Durham in 1022 and placed in this shrine in 1370. Given that Jarrow Abbey had three hundred years under pressure from the Vikings to misplace his bones, and Durham Cathedral had another three hundred before they built the shrine, it is not unduly cynical to wonder how many, if any, of Bede’s bones are actually in it.

Bede's tomb, Durham Cathedral
Photograph by Robin Widdison, sourced from Wikipedia

Graffiti incised in one of the pillars looks 19th century. The authorities are stricter today and carefully enforce their ban on photography, so I have borrowed a couple of pictures from Wikipedia.

In front of the font a long slab of local Frosterly ‘marble’ - actually a black limestone - forms a line across the floor. Until the mid-16th century, the line marked the closest women were allowed to the altar.

The Cloister

From here we entered the cloister, passing a woman sporting a clerical collar. According to Samuel Johnson a woman preaching, like a dog walking on its hind legs is remarkable, not for doing it well, but for doing it at all. We should not judge the ever-quotable doctor too harshly, he was a man of his time, and at least it was a time when women were tolerated at the front of the church. Women priests are now a commonplace, and although all 80 Bishops of Durham from Aldhun in 995 to Paul Butler today have been men, it cannot be long before Durham has its first women bishop. At the end of the cloister is a café with another magnificently vaulted ceiling. In the café is a Lego model of the cathedral. Now there, Dr J, is something to marvel at, not because it was made well (though, to be fair, it is - as Lego models go) but because it was made at all.

Durham Cathedral from the cloister

The Nave and Choir

Back in the nave we saw Father Smith's Great Organ Case (make your own joke), a splendid 17th century clock and the Miner’s Memorial, placed here in 1947. The Book of Remembrance was open at the Easington Colliery disaster in 1951 when 83 miners were killed by underground explosions. County Durham is now green and pleasant, but for centuries coal mining scarred the landscape. Once the county’s major industry, the last pit closed in 1994.

There are many more tombs and statues, some of the older ones damaged in the Civil War or the Reformation.

The original Quire Stalls were replaced in 1660. The brochure calls the replacements 'finely carved'', I might call them 'fussy'. I am also not a fan of the 18th century 'Rose Window' on the east wall. Fine in itself, it does not seem at ease with its surroundings. The 1986 UNESCO citation describes Durham Cathedral as '… the largest and most perfect monument of 'Norman' style architecture in England’. And so it is; later work, though sometimes necessary, never quite grasps the medieval vision.

Durham cathedral nave and rose window
Photograph Oliver Bonjoch, sourced from Wikipedia

The Shrine of St Cuthbert

Behind the altar is the Shrine of St Cuthbert. The greatest saint of northern England, Cuthbert was a monk who became bishop of the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. After his death in 687 Viking incursions ensured his relics led a peripatetic existence. In 995 monks carrying his remains were following two milkmaids searching for a dun cow. When they reached a peninsula in a loop of the River Wear the coffin became immoveable. Recognising a sign, they stopped and built a shrine which in time became a cathedral and the surrounding area became the city of Durham. Cynics might point out that high ground almost completely surrounded by water is a strong defensive position, and this may have influenced the choice of location. A site of pilgrimage throughout the middle ages, the shrine was destroyed during the Reformation, but restored in 1542. It remains a place of pilgrimage, quiet reflection and prayer.

Shrine of St Cuthbert, Durham Cathedral
Photograph JBA Hamilton, sourced from Wikipedia

Behind St Cuthbert is the Chapel of the 9 Altars, which may be only of specialist interest but explains the name of the café where we had lunch.

A Wearside Path back to the Framwellgate Bridge

Outside the cathedral we walked through the old streets and down to the river at the end of the peninsula. Many of the buildings are owned by Durham University and the large number of young people among the old buildings gives them life and stops the place becoming a museum.

Walking down to the river, Durham

At the end of the road we crossed the Wear and walked beside the river on the sort of country path that should not exist in a city, but thankfully does. The path gives the best views of the imposing bulk of the cathedral, which probably looks better without the spire digitally added between the towers when the cathedral posed as Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Us, the River Wear and Durham Cathedral

Returning to tarmac, the Framwellgate Bridge gives the best view the castle.

Lynne on Framwellgate Bridge with Durham Castle behind

Gilesgate, Claypath and the Bistro Italiano

A bus carried us out to our car, and we drove back into the city to the Travelodge. Later a walk down Gilesgate and Claypath showed that even outside the old centre Durham is a city of charm and antiquity. I particularly liked the terraced town houses in Gilesgate, each painted in a different pastel colour. The effect maybe spoiled by the parked cars outside, but the residents have to put their cars somewhere and garages were not in the builders' minds two hundred years ago.

Gilesgate, Durham

Stepping into the Bistro Italiano on Claypath transported us from northeast England to a surprisingly successful facsimile of generic Italy. The Bistro had been recommended to us by friends Brian and Hilary, and I happily pass the recommendation on. We ate well at a reasonable price.

The Angel of the North

The following morning, with a little spare time we made the fifteen minute drive to see the Angel of the North beside the A1 on the outskirts of Gateshead.

The Angel of the North

Controversial during planning and building – it was completed in 1998 at the cost of £1 million - the 20m tall Angel is now a source of local pride. When asked 'why an Angel?' sculptor Anthony Gormley said 'because nobody has seen one and we have to keep imagining them,' which sounds good to me. Weighing 200t and with a 35m wing span he stands in a exposed location where winds of 160kph are not unknown and is anchored to the rock 20m below by 600t of concrete. Traditionally in County Durham much of what is important is beneath the earth.

Lynne sits at the feet of the Angel of the North

The car park is a little behind the Angel and, not for the first time, I found viewing a sculpture from this angle to be instructive. From the front he is stylised, from behind the contours of the Angel’s body are remarkably lifelike.

The Angel of the North

On so on to Stockton and a convivial lunch, afternoon and evening, thank you Richard & Jacqui

Friday 10 April 2015

Dunkery Hill to Withypool: Day 24 of the South West Odyssey (English Branch)

The South West Odyssey was a long distance walk.

Five like-minded people started in 2008 from the Cardingmill Valley in Shropshire and by walking three days a year finished at Start Bay on the South Devon Coast in May 2019.

At 15km the third day was a shorter walk, in theory to allow for the long drive home but in practice to provide time for fiddling around placing one car at the finish and getting six people to the start. How to do this using two five seat cars was a logistical problem that had taxed great minds in the pub the previous evening.

Mike and Alison set off up the towards Dunkery Beacon

Ten o'clock had come and gone before we set off from the car park on the flank of Dunkery Hill. As I suggested at the end of the previous post the final kilometre long 100m climb to Dunkery Beacon was easy when we were fresh.

There's the summit and Francis cannot wait to get there

It was a cooler start than yesterday and with a keen wind on the 519m (1700ft) summit I donned my jacket for the first time since Wednesday morning.

Dunkery Beacon with Mike and Alison (Photograph, Francis)
With my map case blowing in the chilly wind it is definitely time to put a jacket on

A plaque on the cairn commemorated the donation of this land to the National Trust in 1935 by Sir Thomas Acland, Colonel Wiggin and Mr Allan Hughes. 'There's some research for your blog,’ Francis (I think) commented.

Plaque on Dunkery Beacon

So this is what I found. The Holnicote Estate, covering some 5,000ha of North Somerset, (most of it, including Dunkery Hill, now within the Exmoor National Park) passed by marriage into the ownership of Sir Thomas Acland, the 7th Baronet Acland in 1745. The National Trust was given a 500 year lease on the estate in 1918 by the 12th Baronet, another Sir Thomas Acland, and the freehold was donated in 1944 by the 15th Baronet, Sir Richard Acland, a socialist and a founder member of CND. How the Dunkery Hill section became National Trust property in 1935 in the time of the 14th Baronet, Sir Francis Acland is unclear, as is the reason why his long dead grandfather is given the credit. Mr Allan Hughes Esq owned a smaller parcel of land. He died before 1934 and the donation was actually made by his widow. She, doubtless, had a name of her own - most people have - but I have found no reference to her other than as Mrs Allan Hughes. Colonel Wiggin, was master of the Somerset Stag Hounds from 1917 until his death in 1936. After a military career he became a director, and then chairman of the family firm Henry Wiggin and Co* in Birmingham. He lived in Birmingham but had a house and some land in Somerset, part of which he gave to the National Trust in 1932.

Colonel Walter Wiggin
photograph published in Baily's Magazine, February 1920
sourced by me from Wikipedia

From the summit the path descended gently and then contoured along the side of the moorland. In the lee of the hill it was much warmer and my jacket soon came off again. The path was wide, the stones crushed and rolled, unlike on the climb up, and it was easy going, but after four kilometres the sameness was becoming tedious.

Brian plods along the edge of the moorland

This path finally reaches a minor road at the point where the road splits into two tiny ribbons of unfenced tarmac which dribble their way across the moor. We paused at this point, known as Porlock Post, sat in the heather and drank some coffee. Like the posts on the Quantocks, ‘Porlock Post’ really is a post and is labelled as such. It told us walkers exactly where we were, but for drivers it was useless, whether through wind or vandalism, the arms pointed in random directions.

The Porlock Post

We followed the road off the moor and descended a long sunken lane to the village of Exford. The sides of the lane again consisted of stone walls topped with neglected hedges. Centuries of erosion had lowered the path level so that the walls sat on a bank of bare earth.

The sunken lane to Exford

We saw out first spring lamb back in December, though perhaps that unfortunate creature should not be described as a ‘spring’ lamb. This being the right season, the field were full of sheep and lambs, some so new their legs were still wobbly.

Spring lambs near Exford

Exford is a small village with a large green which we crossed and followed a path beside the River Exe.

Leaving Exford along the River Exe

Here, some five miles from its source at Simonsbath, the Exe is a modest stream. Flowing southwards for another 65 kilometres, mostly through Devon, it reaches the sea just beyond Exeter at Exmouth - there is a clue in the name. Rising in moorland, it is inevitably acidic but is home to a population of wild brown trout and has a run of Atlantic salmon.

Our path crossed the river which swings east for a little way while we followed the Exe Valley Way around the flank of Southcott Hill, before dipping down to the foot of Court Copse, ensuring the climb up Road Hill would be as long and stiff as possible.

You have to go down before you can go up
Approaching Road Hill (photograph, Alison)

After the climb we made our way across the hill’s rounded top. Curr Cleeve, a small steep valley descending to the Exe, separates Road Hill from Room Hill, but we were able to follow the ridge round the end of the valley without losing height.

Curr Cleeve between Road Hill and Room Hill

Room Hill Road runs close to the top of the hill, and after crossing the road we found a permissive path that descends to Withypool, zigzagging along the field boundaries with some impressive bridge/ladder/stile combinations.

Bridge, ladder stile on the way to Withypool

A final steep descent across a grassy field brought us down to a minor road on the edge of the village where Lynne was waiting to meet us.

Withypool

On the southern side of the village a fine late medieval bridge crosses the River Barle, which rises close to the source of the Exe but follows a more westerly path before turning east to meet the Exe at Exebridge some 11 kilometres from its source. Why some places, like Exebridge and Exeter retain their second 'e' and others, like Exford, and Exmouth, do not is a mystery.

Francis reaches Withypool first

Brian's car was in the car park on the far side of the bridge, but before crossing it we stopped at the adjacent tea house. Brian, and to a lesser extent Lynne, had checked out Somerset’s strong, cloudy cider and it seemed time to enjoy the region's other great delight, a cream tea.

The Bridge on the River Barle

Purists might say that half past two was too early, but we felt we had earned it. I savoured my scone with its thick coating of clotted cream topped with blackcurrant jam. Sadly, only Alison and I pronounce scone correctly (it rhymes with 'swan' not 'drone'), though even my wife will not admit the truth of this statement. There is also the vexed question of whether the cream goes on the jam, or the jam goes on the cream – to enjoy a simple cream tea it is necessary to negotiate a minefield of social conventions.

Cream Tea, Withypool

Well fed, we crossed the bridge to the car park and the 2015 instalment of the South West Odyssey came to its end. It had been one of the best; unexpectedly fine weather, excellent walking country and convivial evenings. What could be better?

The walk across Somerset
Next year south into Devon

To answer my own question, I would have liked the drive home to have taken less than five and a half hours. The M5 and M6 were extraordinarily busy as Lynne sped us from hold up to hold up. Ah well, nothing is perfect.

*Special Metals Wiggin Ltd, part of the Special Metals Corporation, now employs 700 people in Hereford.