29th June is Camera Day. No better day for taking photos but I think mine are going to have to be indoors. It's peeing down! So for the moment I shall settle for a sunny day from last week as Son-who-watches-films got the barbecue out.
Sunday, 26 June 2016
Many of the inn signs I have photographed are just one small part of a fascinating building. Sadly many inns have closed in recent years and equally sadly, from my point of view, some which have remained open have lost their signs (for whatever reason).
One such is The Falcon in Chester, England. The above photo was taken in 2011 when on a trip around the city with GB. That sign, formerly on the North side of the building, has now gone but there remains a simple wooden board with the name on the East side of the building.
It might seem obvious why an inn should be called The Falcon (especially when next door to The Golden Eagle) – some local interest in falconry, the so-called sport of kings, perhaps. But there are a number of other potential reasons. At Bude, in Cornwall, The Falcon was named after a stage-coach that went across the Devon border and the sign depicts a coach not a bird. Falcon was a popular name for a ship – indicating, like the stage-coach, that it was swift. A monarch, local lord or dignitary might have a falcon on his crest as did Elizabeth I and William Shakespeare. (There is no falcon on the Grosvenor family / Duke of Westminster’s crest.)
The Falcon building originated as a house in about 1200 and was later extended to the south along Lower Bridge Street, with a great hall running parallel to the street. During the 13th century it was rebuilt to incorporate its portion of the row. It was rebuilt again during the late 16th and early 17th centuries. The house was bought in 1602 by Sir Richard Grosvenor who extensively altered it some 40 years later to make it his town house. During the English Civil War he moved his family here from his country home, Eaton Hall. In 1643 Sir Richard petitioned the City Assembly for leave to enlarge his house by enclosing the portion of the row which passed through his property. This was successful and it set a precedent for other residents of Lower Bridge Street to enclose their portion of the rows, or to build new structures which did not incorporate the rows.
In the late 18th century the building ceased to be the town house of the Grosvenor family. It continued to be owned by them, and between 1778 and 1878 it was licensed as The Falcon Inn. In about 1879 alterations were made by John Douglas. At this time it was known as The Falcon Cocoa House and it was re-opened as a temperance house. Originally the brainchild of the Society of Friends- the Quakers- local cocoa houses came about due to pious concern that Chester's working folk were preferring to spend their time and money in warm and cosy pubs and 'gin palaces' rather than staying in with their families in their cold, damp homes- or even going to church. Interestingly, prominent among those reforming Quakers were the Cadbury and Fry families- chocolate manufacturers! Their concern, evidently, was as much about profits as moral improvement.
By the 1970s the building had become virtually derelict and in 1979 the Falcon Trust was established, and the Grosvenor Estate donated the building to the Trust. Between 1979 and 1982 the building was restored and in 1983 it won a Europa Nostra award.
On the side of the building is what is described on one website as a road sign but it doesn't reflect the current road names. Perhaps the area adjacent to The Falcon was once known as South M...l Place? Any help in solving that little riddle would be appreciated.
This is a view of The Falcon (far right) as shown in a painting of Louise Rayner (1832-1924).
Posted by John Edwards at 07:00
Saturday, 25 June 2016
Thursday, 23 June 2016
Partner-who-loves-tea and I recently had a trip to Conwy on the North Wales coast so she could do some clothes shopping and I could take some photos.
The Castle is a medieval fortification in Conwy, on the north coast of Wales. It was built by Edward I, during his conquest of Wales, between 1283 and 1289. Constructed as part of a wider project to create the walled town of Conwy, the combined defences cost around £15,000, a huge sum for the period. Over the next few centuries, the castle played an important part in several wars. It withstood the siege of Madog ap Llywelyn in the winter of 1294–95, acted as a temporary haven for Richard II in 1399 and was held for several months by forces loyal to Owain Glyndŵr in 1401.
Following the outbreak of the English Civil War in 1642, the castle was held by forces loyal to Charles I, holding out until 1646 when it surrendered to the Parliamentary armies. In the aftermath the castle was partially slighted by Parliament to prevent it being used in any further revolt, and was finally completely ruined in 1665 when its remaining iron and lead was stripped and sold off. UNESCO considers Conwy to be one of "the finest examples of late 13th century and early 14th century military architecture in Europe", and it is classed as a World Heritage site.
Llywelyn the Great, founder of Aberconwy Abbey.
But seagulls are no respecters of age or rank!
What is this enchant for hanging bicycles on walls? There was one on a solicitor's at Abergavenny and now this one.
Typical British icons.
A bake sale for charity - the little cakes were lovely.
And I added to my inn sign collection.
Posted by John Edwards at 00:36
Tuesday, 21 June 2016
When a famous figure, a celebrity, dies there is, quite rightly, a great outpouring of sympathy for his family and lots of newspaper eulogies. The Internet ensures that folk around the world know within hours that they have passed away. But what happens when Mr or Mrs Unfamous dies?
There is a funeral – more frequently referred to nowadays as a celebration of their life. There may be a notice (paid for) in the local newspaper. Grief-stricken and harassed relatives have to phone around friends and colleagues of the deceased – assuming they know who they were. And twelve months later only the very closest of their family are likely to recall the anniversary of their death. The Times won’t publish an Obituary and in a couple of generations folk researching their family history will wonder who he or she was and what they were like.
On Saturday I learned of the death of a former colleague at Knowsley Borough Council, Ken Johnson. He died at the end of February but I wasn’t aware of it until meeting mutual acquaintances last Saturday. Ken held a very senior position within the Council but definitely, like most of us, ranked among the 'unfamous'.
Ken and I swapped Christmas cards and the occasional Facebook message and he is one of the Council officers I held in the highest regard. He was honest, skillful, personable, helpful, caring and did his job to the very best of his ability, notwithstanding long-term health issues about which he made no fuss. A man I am proud to have known. One could hardly ask for a better eulogy than that.
His first wife, Sue, died when his son, Matt, was quite young and more recently he became engaged and seemed blissfully happy. So my sympathies go especially to Alison and Matt but also to Ken himself that he should have missed out on a potentially wonderful future and that his name will hardly go down on record anywhere in a way that will capture what a special person he was. He may have been 'unfamous' but he was nevertheless one in a million.
Posted by John Edwards at 10:19
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