Showing posts with label medieval stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label medieval stuff. Show all posts

Wednesday, 13 July 2011

Lindisfarne

The other week I went on a day trip to Lindisfarne with Alex, Nole, Anna and Helen. Lindisfarne is a tidal island off the Northumbrian coast. Monks made a monastery here in the olden days. Then Vikings came and burned it down and stole loads of stuff. Then the monks rebuilt it. Then a bunch of other stuff happened. Then we came for a day trip. Here are some photos.

Climbing up to Lindisfarne Castle

This image gave me nightmares for days

Anna in a boat

Alex goes for a paddle to a little holy island

Alex rejoicing on the little holy island

Note monk at lower right sending a text on his mobile

Bus stop sign seems to have bullet holes in it

Bird

Sat 20 - Sun 21 Aug: Viking Raiders re-enactment day at Lindisfarne. A bit tasteless, I think, like having a German WW2 Wehrmacht re-enactment day at Dachau

Holy bin

Helen and Alex wondering if Alex will be able to pass into the sacred precinct without his face burning off

Saint Cuthbert, who never looked this relaxed in real life

Monday, 23 May 2011

Law and order in the 6th century

From the Law Code issued by King Gundobad of the Burgundians...

Chapter XCVII


Concerning hounds, hunting dogs, or running dogs


If anyone shall presume to steal a hound, or a hunting dog, or a running dog, we order that he be compelled to kiss the posterior of that dog publicly in the presence of all the people, or let him be compelled to pay five gold coins to him whose dog he took, and a fine of two gold coins.

Friday, 13 August 2010

History repeats itself

Here's a strange thing. This image is a nineteenth-century depiction of the Sack of Rome by the Goths in 410.


Here's a photo of US Marines in the centre of Baghdad in 2003.


Look at the composition of the two figures on the statue, the posture of the statue itself, the rope, even the guy at the bottom with the raised hand. Uncanny.

Less nudity in the second one, though.

Saturday, 26 June 2010

Henley-in-Arden & Wooton Wawen

Today I went for a drive to Henley-in-Arden, a pretty little market town across the border in Warwickshire. I went there in 2001 to do look at the church for my undergrad dissertation and was curious to see if anything had changed. It hadn't.

Kim the Dog on the site of the old Norman castle

I went up the hill overlooking the town, which used to have a Norman motte and bailey hill on top of it. Nothing there now though, just grass and nettles.

Down in the town there was a church fete, so I decided to look for some ice cream. The old man at the entrance said I had to pay 20p to enter, then he threatened to take my credit card and beat me up, so I punched him in the chin and ran past. Once inside I completed my objective of purchasing ice cream (rum and raisin flavour), and also bought a homemade gluten-free chocolate cake (of the various cakes on offer it seemed to offer best value per ounce) before running back out.

I'd left Kim the Dog in the car with the windows slightly open as it was a hot day and I wasn't worried about anyone trying to steal a broken-down old Metro with an aggressively paranoid collie in the front. Also, Henley-in-Arden is not exactly GTA.

Middle England

On the way I home I decided to swing by the village of Wooton Wawen, because: a) I also had to visit it in 2001 and haven't been back since; and b) it has a silly name.


I won some Anglo-Saxon nerd points because this is one of the oldest churches in the Midlands, founded in the early eighth century, and perhaps my favourite medieval church anywhere. It's like a massive lego set which has been randomly expanded over a thousand years.

This, my friend, is a genuine Anglo-Saxon archway

Wooton Wawen was the site of a priory for centuries until the Dissolution, at which point the manor fell into the ownership of a stubborn Catholic family, even though the church itself became Protestant. So Wooton Wawen remained an isolated pocket of Catholicism, with a third of its population refusing to convert. In 1700-and-something the Anglican Church finally sent a minister to root out and correct all the Papist heretics, but he ended up converting to Catholicism himself. ANGLICAN INQUISITION FAIL LOL.

How it should be done

Across the road was a general store, which had this friendly sign outside:

Huzzah, England and Ireland united by a common hatred of the French!