Category Archives: history

Lowestoft Tiles


Lowestoft Tiles, originally uploaded by kcm76.

This is a mosaic of shots I took when Noreen and I were in Lowestoft for the day in September 2008. Round the edge is a selection of tiles used as part of the paving in London Road, Lowestoft. There is a line of tiles each side of the street (which is pedestrianised) some 10 feet from the shop fronts and spaced a few yards apart. Some were extremely dull; these caught my eye. The local planners, despite all the other dire things they’ve done to an interesting Edwardian seaside resort and port, should have credit for these tiles as they certainly are an unusual and interesting touch to an otherwise boring shopping street. All the tiles appear to have local themes: Lowestoft pottery, fishing industry, holiday resort, marshland, boating, etc. These are just round the corner from the decaying railway station (shown centre). It’s original buildings are approximating to semi-derelict (although still in use) but they retain some of the old decorative arcading and the original 1950s(?) BR station sign overlooking the “town square”.

You’ll get a better idea of the tiles if you follow the links to the individual images:
1. Tile 1, 2. Tile 4, 3. Tile 7, 4. Tile 6, 5. Lowestoft Central Station, 6. Tile 8, 7. Tile 2, 8. Tile 5, 9. Tile 3

Created with fd’s Flickr Toys

Bryan Jackaman Ellis


Bryan Jackaman Ellis, originally uploaded by kcm76.

I’ve been looking at some old photographs and thought this was interesting.

This is Bryan Jackaman Ellis (16 November 1900-3Q1979), aged 4 in 1904. Bryan was a friend of my parents, having met them Youth Hostelling during WWII. I remember him from my childhood in 1950s as a funny old boy, very Edwardian and ascetic who I thought looked like Mr Punch. He was a confirmed bachelor, with a stammer, who always wore a kilt (I think I only once ever saw him in trousers). He always said he wanted to live to be 101 as then he would have lived in three centuries! He expected small boys to speak only when they were spoken to and I’m only surprised I wasn’t required to address him as “Sir”, as I believe he had to his father.

When I knew him he worked as a surveyor’s mate for the Ordnance Survey at various places in the west country, he always lived in lodgings. He was passionately interested in architecture and steam trains – he would go anywhere in UK to look at a church or ride a rural train line. He spent most weekends off somewhere Youth Hostelling until well after his retirement. Consequently he had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the Brit sh Isles; there were few places he hadn’t visited at some time or another.

He often visited us at Christmas, staying just a couple of days between other visits to friends, visits to churches etc. I also remember that every week he mailed my parents the latest copies of Punch and Country Life after he had read (and annotated!) them.

Every year he held a birthday lunch, in a different town, on the Sunday in November nearest his birthday. All his friends were invited, usually a dozen or so went along, and between them they stood him lunch; every 5th (or was it 10th?) year he returned the favour. I went to several of these lunches as a youngster; I remember lunching at the newly opened Mermaid Theatre in London (early 60s?), in Cambridge and in Brighton. I think I may still have somewhere my photographs of Brighton seafront from that day in the mid-60s! I also remember the whole group of us sitting in this posh restaurant in Cambridge, rubbing our fingers round the rims of our wine-glasses to make them “sing”.

I would have been about 10 or 11 when we went to the Mermaid. I asked if I could have the trout starter (trout was a fabulous beast then and I’d never had it). My father explained that I’d probably get a couple of small pieces of trout on some toast; was this what I wanted; I insisted, determined to try this rarity. When it arrived, much to my father’s disgust, I got a whole trout! I’ve loved trout ever since.

Seriously Wow!

What a fantastic day! The first day of our week off and we’ve had a seriously memorable day.

We started boringly early this morning with a trip to the dentist. Both of us. For a check-up and a hygienist appointment each. Nothing except a clean for Noreen and one small filling done on the spot for me.

Back home at 10 and a short time to relax before getting dressed up for the afternoon: “Morning dress or lounge suit. Ladies are requested to wear hats.” it says.

OMG. But I don’t do dressing up. Does my suit still fit? Well I can just get into this one.

“What are you going to?”
“This is Ascot week.”
“But Ascot starts tomorrow.”

We have been given tickets (invited if you will) to attend the Service of the Most Noble Order of the Garter in St George’s Chapel, Windsor which is of course a royal, nay a Court, occasion.

“How?”

Well we just happen to know one of the Heralds of Arms, purely socially; he also happens to be Secretary to the Order of the Garter and thus responsible for organising this occasion. Thus it was about 3 weeks ago Patric popped his head over the parapet and said

“I omitted to ask whether you and Noreen could manage the Garter Service this year?”

(He had offered us tickets a couple of years ago and we couldn’t get free from work). I assumed he meant outside to see the procession through Windsor Castle, but no this was to attend the service in the Chapel. Wow! Thank you! Yes, please! We’ll be delighted; honoured; etc.

Our friend Tom offered to drive us the 15 or so miles out to Windsor. We got him a ticket to see the procession.

So off we traipse just before 12.30. Tom had to be in position before 2; we would be admitted to the Chapel at 2, no later than 2.30. We parked in Windsor Great Park just after 1. A long, leisurely, walk up to the Castle. Which gate? That gate. No you’ll have to go to that gate. No not here you need to be at the other (first) gate! Not really surprising with several gates, at least two types of ticket in six different colours; and thousands of security peeps.

It was hot. Need chocolate before blood sugar crashes. Hunt chocolate. Find nice man who keeps chocolate in the fridge. Go to (first) gate (again). Security checks – show passport three times as well as ticket! It’s blazing hot. Finally admitted to Chapel: cooler; a bit. Then the fun begins …

In march:

the state trumpeters (Household Cavalry);


a posse of Yeoman Warders, complete with ruffs, pikes, halberds and swords; followed by

a posse of the Honourable Corps of Gentlemen at Arms – aged military retainers with white feather plumes in their shining tin hats. The choristers;

the heralds (in their playing card tabards);

the Knights of the Garter; the Royal Knights;

officers of the Order; retinue; and …

THE QUEEN.

A blare of trumpets.

Wow we don’t half do this pageantry stuff well, we English. We are in the nave in row 3, just 15 feet from HM – but with a big, burly, prop forward of a Yeoman Warder in the way!

Settle down now children and we’ll have a nice ordinary church service. A couple of hymns (good hymns in comfortable keys for all to sing, and they did), responses, prayers, a lesson etc. The usual stuff.

45 minutes later the procession traipses out again in reverse order. Another blare of trumpets for HM.

Back outside it is still baking; the black clouds roll past. And we get to see some of the procession ride back up the hill in carriages. A few, the older ones, in cars. Some even walk! The military march off. Two squadrons of Blues & Royals and Life Guards in full ceremonials including spurs. The full band of the Household Cavalry covered in gold frogging (see trumpeters, above). A detachment of Foot Guards.

We eventually meet up with Tom. We are all seriously hot and thirsty, so adjourn to the nearest pub for a couple of pints. Followed by a nice walk back to the car. And home for tea and cake.

What a fantastic day. I never thought I would ever get invited to such a royal occasion. And I certainly never thought I would be just 12-15 feet from the Queen. Absolutely brilliant. And it didn’t rain!

[No cameras permitted in the Chapel, so all the pictures are from the web, mostly from Wikimedia Commons.]

Ghost Stories

Antonia over at Whoopee has asked us to post our real-life ghost stories. So here are my two, not-quite-ghost stories.

Theobald’s; Early ’60s
I was brought halfway between Cheshunt and Waltham Cross, about 13 miles north of London and just in Hertfordshire. And I actually lived about 5-10 minutes walk from the site of the long vanished Tudor Theobald’s Palace – built by Lord Burghley and later exchanged by Robert Cecil for James I’s Hatfield House.

Part of the grounds of the old palace were a local park which I visited regularly so we got to know the park keeper. Behind the park was the early-Victorian Old Palace House, built on the actual site of the old palace.


This is of the back of Old Palace House in the 1930s; it wasn’t a lot different when I knew it. Notice the two Tudor windows salvaged from Theobald’s Palace.
By the time I got to know the house it was uninhabited and had passed into the ownership of the local council, so on a Sunday it was under the stewardship of the aforementioned park keeper. Thus it was that we got to help ourselves to apples (gorgeous old varieties) from the wonderful old orchard and also on one occasion to go round the inside of the house.

The house was interesting, but of course slowly becoming derelict having been unoccupied for some years. So it was cold and dank, even on a hot summer’s day. Walking round the house (I guess I would have been 12, maybe 14) we had our small Cairn Terrier sized dog with us. We went up the main staircase to the first floor. But the dog would not, absolutely would not, go up to those stairs. I had to carry her up; she was shaking like a leaf. What it was I don’t know but there was something up there that terrified her. And it did strike me as especially chill.

We never did find out any more, although I have found this on the Paranormal Database:

Location: Cheshunt – Old Palace House, Theobald’s Park
Type: Haunting Manifestation
Date / Time: Unknown
Further Comments: It was claimed that this building was haunted by a number of ghosts, though details are sketchy

A few years later the old house burnt down; as far as I know it was never concluded whether this was “suspicious” or an accident. Except for a large specimen walnut tree the orchard was grubbed out and became an extension of the park.

Follow the links to find lot’s more about the interesting history of the Cheshunt and Waltham Cross area at British History Online.

Norwich; Summer 1973
My only other experience of ghostly presence was when I was a post-graduate student in Norwich. I was friends with a couple (let’s call them B and J) who, at the time, were devout Catholics and lived in a flat (part of a Victorian house) halfway between the city centre and the university.

One hot summer Saturday afternoon I was working in my lab and B was also working 3 labs along from me. We had agreed that I would eat with them that evening and then we’d go out for a few beers. I finished my experiments in mid-afternoon and B said to go on to theirs and he would follow. I duly did so.

When I arrived J open the door and said “Thank God you’ve arrived I been struggling with this presence all day and can’t banish it”. On a baking hot summer’s day I walked in the door and was hit by this wall of freezing cold – real freezing cold, not just a cool house. It tuned out that J had been beset by this “demon” all day and could not banish it from the house – we were great believers in the power of the mind to control these things. She and I set about working on it together and eventually managed to banish it as far as the bathroom.

B arrived an hour or two later and before anyone said anything his comment was along the lines of “What on earth is wrong; what’s happening?” J explained. As I recall we spent the rest of the evening finally removing the presence from the house. We didn’t resort to bell, book and candle, but we were pretty close to doing so. Luckily the presence never returned.

I would have to say, in all honesty, that I’m fairly agnostic about ghosts and presences although these two events were real enough (horribly real in the case of the latter). As Hamlet observes (Act I, scene i):

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

A Practical Use for Cats

Another snippet which interested me (as an ailurophile) this week is from the May 2009 issue of Subterranea*:

A Practical Use for Cats

An unsubstantiated item of Derbyshire folklore claims the application of a cat to useful purposes, in connection with the development of lead mining at Bole Hill, near Wirksworth. Here shafts had been sunk, and lead ore raised, to considerable depths, until the water-table was reached necessitating expensive pumping if mining was to follow the ore deeper.

From 1772 a drainage tunnel (the Meerbrook sough) was driven under the hill from the valley of the river Derwent, intended to connect with a shaft then of the order of 200 metres deep. The tunnel was not in one straight line, as it made diversions from time to time to follow veins of galena as they were encountered. After 26 years or so, when the tunnel was getting close to the shaft, the question arose how to effect the meeting of the two with least wasted labour.

The solution, local legend has it, was provided by a cat, taken along the very wet tunnel into the heart of the hill. Boring was commenced at the bottom of the shaft at a predetermined time. The cat in the tunnel turned to look in the direction of the sound, thus indicating the exact alignment needed for the final length of the drainage tunnel. This was repeated several metres further along the same tunnel, allowing the determination of the shaft’s location by triangulation.

* Subterranea is the magazine of Subterranea Britannica, the “society devoted to the study of man-made and man-used underground structures and the archaeology of the Cold War”.

Photography Meme


Photography Meme, originally uploaded by kcm76.

This week’s Flickr Photo Meme is to about, well, Photography!

So here, as usual, are the questions and my answers:

1. What camera do you use the most? Olympus E500 dSLR
2. What is your favourite lens? My Spectacles; I’m as blind as most of a bat without them.
3. Who is your favourite photographer on Flickr? Tina Manthorpe, although that is a really hard choice
4. Who is your favourite photographer of all time? Leonardo da Vinci. What? You mean all those things aren’t photographs? Oh come, on … he invented everything else so he surely had a camera! (In fact David Hockney has the theory that even as early as Leonardo artists were using camera obscura
5. Who introduced your to photography (mom, dad, friend, sibling, etc)? My father; I started by using his Box Brownie
6. What is your favourite thing to shoot? Arrows. In the air!
7. What is the one most important tool? Excluding your camera! Err, my eyes!?
8. What inspires your photography? Almost anything, but probably mostly colour & pattern, and the humorous
9. If you could shoot one event in history what would it be? This isn’t something I’ve ever really thought about, so I’ll go for: Great Fire of London, 1666.
10. Where would you be published if you could choose? Anywhere they’ll have me; I’m not proud
11. Choose anywhere in the world that you would love to photograph Shinto Temples of Japan
12. What was the subject of your favourite photograph? Pretty Girls

As always these are not my photos (except #5) so please follow the links to enjoy the work of the photographers who did take them!

1. Enjoy summer (and beer), 2. Funny Glasses in Rome, 3. Swaledale, 4. Leonardo da Vinci Annunciation, 5. kcm76 and Parents, 1984, 6. I shot an arrow into the air, …., 7. Black Line Eyes, 8. Shaping Light, 9. London’s Burning005, 10. Fish., 11. Giant Wooden Phallus, 12. While waiting for you…

Created with fd’s Flickr Toys.

D is not for Dog

Neither is D for Dolphin! Not that I have anything against dogs or dolphins; they’re just not creatures which interest me. But D is for Daffodils …

OK, so here’s one of the current interspace memes. A blogging friend issues you with a (random) letter. You then have to write a weblog post around ten things beginning with that letter which you like, or are at least meaningful to you. So thanks to Hails over at Coffee Helps for giving me the letter D. So my ten things are:

Donuts
No not those toroidal creations so often topped with sugar icing and ADHD-laden e-coloured sugar ants. Definitely, No. Donuts here have to be the roughly spheroidal, cricket ball-sized variety in the middle of which there is a large dollop of gooey red jam just waiting to squirt out all down the chin and shirt-front. It’s the special red sticky jam otherwise reserved only for the fingers of two-year-olds! Good donuts are wicked but heavenly. Bad donuts are evil.

Desprez, Josquin
Josquin is here as a representative of all composers of the early music era. Although perhaps not my all time favourite Josquin’s work is sublime. My real interest is more in the liturgical works fo the English Medieval and Renaissance composers, especially Nicholas Ludford and William Byrd. Byrd is in fact one of my heroes. How he survived as a recusant in Elizabethan England is something of a mystery. Although arrested and fined for recusancy on a number of occasions he not executed or imprisoned at length – something any other person at that time would have been. Moreover he kept his place at court. One can only think that he had special royal protection for some reason, perhaps as a valued spy? And his liturgical and keyboard music is for me unsurpassable.

Drinking
Let’s be open and frank. I enjoy a drink or three; beer or red wine for preference. It’s fashionable these days to knock anything to do with alcohol, and, yes, I admit it is a drug. But the anti-booze campaigns have in my view gone too far. Yes, it isn’t good for you to get smashed out of your skull regularly. But a few drinks? I seriously doubt a few drinks really hurt anyone (with perhaps the odd exception). Indeed there is good medical evidence that small quantities of alcohol (like a glass of red wine a day) are beneficial and help protect against things such as heart problems.

Diabetes
I was diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes about 3 years ago, and it can be a real pain in the posterior, although I will be the first to admit that I still haven’t fully engaged with it. You’re supposed to watch what you eat and need to rebalance your diet away from naked sugar to complex carbohydrates which release energy slowly. Diabetes is actually, in my view, two distinct diseases which result in the same long-term effects.

Type 1 Diabetes is an autoimmune disease where the body does not produce Insulin (the islet cells in the pancreas either don’t work or are destroyed), so the body cannot metabolise sugar (glucose/glycogen). It generally appears at a young age and often runs in families. Type 1s are the people who have to inject themselves with Insulin, often several times a day.

Type 2 Diabetes normally appears later in life and although there can be a genetic tendency it is also triggered by things like excessive weight. In Type 2 the body produces Insulin but the transport mechanism which allows the Insulin to diffuse from the blood though the cell membrane so it can work in the cells, fails. The effect is high blood sugar, as with Type 1. Type 2 is mostly managed by lifestyle changes and drugs, although through complex feedback mechanisms in the body it can destroy/disable the islet cells so that one progresses to needing Insulin injections.

Of course those descriptions are a generalisation and it isn’t as simple as I make out. Both types of Diabetes are serious but often don’t get taken seriously, even sometimes by those with the malady. They are largely invisible (unless someone passes out, which can happen with either very low blood glucose (hypoglycaemia) or too much blood sugar (hyperglycaemia); both are medical emergencies). But ignoring one’s Diabetes is a mistake as it can lead to many serious complications including major effects on the circulatory system, the nervous system, the kidneys and the eyes. If you even suspect you might have Diabetes then get it checked out by your doctor and take it seriously.

Dentist
Am I sad? Am I really the only person in the country who doesn’t dread going to the dentist – and even enjoys it? Judging by conversations I have I seem to be. But it is true; I genuinely do enjoy trips to the dentist, even when he’s doing nasty things in my mouth! Jonathan, my dentist man at White House Dental is a dream and a genius. Were I female I would swoon. He is just the best dentist – ever. OK so I have the privilege of paying him privately, but is it worth it! He is a superb technician, incredibly dexterous and his attitude is “the best will do”. And I have that on authority too. A couple of years ago he wanted a problem in my mouth checked by an oral specialist at the local BUPA hospital. While looking at my mouth the specialist’s (quite unprompted) comment was “I don’t know your dentist; I’ve never met him; he just refers people to me. But I see a lot of dentistry [well he would, wouldn’t he!] and your guy does the best dentistry I ever see”. Can one get better than that? Well yes, because not only is Jonathan a brilliant dentist, he’s an interesting guy to talk to and we almost always have chat about something medical or scientific between bouts of jovial banter.

Daffodils
Daffodils are one of my favourite flowers and for me the real harbinger of Spring. I’m not so fond of masses daffodils (as on the walls of York), and I detest that awful piece of Wordsworth poetry! I’m happier with a few bright golden trumpets in a vase; they are a real joy.

Driftwood and Dunes
Driftwood and dunes here stand duty for the seaside; not tourist infested beaches but the quieter shores of the less fashionable seaside towns. I’m a Londoner, born and bred, but like so many Londoners I would rather be in the country or, better, by the sea. Especially if it is warm, sunny and there’s an interesting beach with driftwood to find or dunes to explore and where one can laze out of the wind. Sun, sea, sand … what could be better?

Dungeness
Still on the seaside theme one of the places I love is the Dungeness headland in SE England. It is a relatively modern wilderness, created naturally by the sea in the last few hundred years, and is one of the largest expanses of shingle in the world. It is a wilderness of shingle; with scattered shanty housing, a lighthouse, a nuclear power station and one end of the Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Railway (see also here for more on RH&DR). It is genuinely wild, a haven for birds, especially as a stopover for migrants, and for salt-loving flora.

Devon and Dorset
Dorset and South Devon are another area of England which I love, both for their countryside and for their coast. With a few large-ish towns (Exeter, Weymouth, Torquay, for example) large areas of the counties are open rolling countryside with patchworks of fields, woods and villages, fringed along the southern edge by the sea with some glorious relatively quiet beaches, beautiful sandstone cliffs and fossils – it isn’t called the Jurassic Coast for nothing.

Drupe
Isn’t that a wonderful word: drupe. And it is pronounced, as one would expect, just like “droop”, which means something totally different. Drupe is a word which is not much used and hence known by few. Drupe is the correct botanical name for what are sometimes called the “stone fruits”: the fruit of all the genus Prunus (cherry, plum, almond, peach, etc.) as well as oddities like olives and most palms including coconuts and dates. They are characterised by having a hard kernel (hence the “stone”) which contains the seed and a soft, often fleshy and edible, outer. Apparently the word drupe derives from the Greek druppa olive, via Latin druppa, overripe olive. These are fruits which I love.

So there you have it. Ten things which are meaningful to me and begin with the letter D. Feel free to add your own ideas in the comments. And if you’d like your own letter why not visit Hails over at Coffee Helps and ask nicely (would you do otherwise?) for a letter.

OMG Aren't They Horrible!

There seems recently to be a trend for displaying photos of oneself in youth, and as is traditional adding the refrain of “OMG aren’t they horrible”. Far be it from me not to join a sinking bandwagon when I see one, so here are a selection of the pix I’ve so far found of me.

First off, on the right, here I am aged 7 (in 1958) with our dog, Suzie (Sue for short). This is clearly taken in our back garden during the summer, probably by my father with his Box Brownie.

And next a couple of years later (I’m guessing I was 9 or 10) while on holiday camping at a nudist club somewhere in Essex. It was a hot summer and in this I’m pouring cold water over my mother. This would have been taken by my father on his Box Brownie.

Next we have some from when I was in the Scouts.

Here I am (in the centre) at the age of about 12 (so 1963) preparing to take part in the Scouts annual St George’s Day Parade, which our troop led with drum band. I can roughly date this as Vic, the guy with the “leopard skin”, was our troop leader and left a year or so later at 16; the big gormless-looking lad helping him is Eric Castle who was (I think a year) younger than me, so he must have been 11 to be in the Scouts. Apart from being somewhere around Cheshunt I’ve no clue where this was. Again probably taken by my father on his Box Brownie.


In these two I must be about 14 (so 1965) as I’m the one leading the drum band at the St George’s Day parade. I definitely remember this as I know we did this route at least two years running; I suspect this was the first year we used this route and the first year I was “drum major”as I think it is still Vic with the bass drum. Again probably taken by my father on his Box Brownie, although it must have been around this time he started using 35mm.

Now we’ve jumped to summer 1971 and a professionally taken photograph of the University of York Cricket Tour at the end of the Summer Term (so the end of my second year as an undergraduate). We spent a short week playing around Ipswich and Cambridge; this was taken outside the Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge pavilion before a match. I’m in the back row, third from right and badly in need of a haircut. And no, I can’t name all the other guys; except I know the guy front right is Eddie Pratt who was doing Chemistry with me.

Finally we’ve jumped to 1984. I don’t know who took this, but it’s in my family history collection. This is me (centre, with hands in pockets and gold-rimmed glasses) with my parents at the opening of Noreen’s blockbusting exhibition “Jolly Hockey Sticks” at Bethnal Green Museum of Childhood (now V&A MoC). I was (almost) down to weight in those days as I had not long recovered from glandular fever. I was 33 and we’d been married not quite 5 years. Eeek; that’s a lifetime ago! I wasn’t grey then either.

I’m sure I have other photos but they aren’t to hand. I’ll have to raid my mother’s files next time I go to see her; there should be some more of me in my teens and maybe twenties although I doubt there’ll be any of me under about 5 as I don’t think my father had a camera then; and of course, yes, there are wedding photos somewhere.

Are they horrible? Well actually, apart from the one of me as a student (horrible glasses and in need of a serious haircut), no I don’t think they are horrible. Photos of me now are far worse: very unfit, seriously overweight and going down hill rapidly into senility. I wish I was as fit now as I was in that nude photo of me at 9 or 10! But that, as they say, is life.

Wonders of the World Meme


Wonders of the World Meme, originally uploaded by kcm76.

This week’s meme is to say what you think the 12 Wonders of the World are? This can be man-made, natural, things you’ve seen, things you haven’t! Or a mixture!

So here are my twelve …

1. Power of Natural Forces, especially the sea
2. Existence of Life. Even as a scientist just the sheer chemical and anatomical complexity blows my mind
3. Diversity of Life, from amoeba to elephant; from top of Everest to ocean depths
4. Amazon: the rainforest, the fish, the parrots
5. Cats, from domestic cats to terrifying tigers
6. Human Intellect / Mind, without which we wouldn’t have any of the following …
7. Agriculture. How do you get from being a hunter-gatherer to a settled community growing rice and pigs?
8. Stonehenge, being a representative of all incredible building by ancient peoples who as far as we know had no writing and no recognisable mathematics
9. Bread and Wine. How did anyone go, A, B … X to discover them; bread especially
10. Writing, without which we wouldn’t have society or literature
11. Medieval Cathedrals: complex architecture, brilliantly built with no advanced mathematics or science
12. Zero, without which we wouldn’t have maths or science

1. Stormy Seas, 2. Coral Reef, 3. Bugs life, 4. Rainforest Parrot, 5. Wild Jaguar, 6. The Labyrinth of Chartres Cathedral, Chartres, France, 7. Terraced Rice Fields of Sapa, 8. Stonehenge, 9. Wine and Bread, 10. Book of Hours : Use of Sarum, Prayer to St. Thomas Becket of Canterbury (circa 1330), 11. Focs artificials gòtics, 12. zero

As always these are not my photos so please follow the links to enjoy the work of the photographers who did take them!

Created with fd’s Flickr Toys.

Medieval Credit Crunch

I always knew there’s nothing new under the sun, but I hadn’t really expected to find out that there was a true medieval credit crunch. But according to News for Medievalists there were indeed problems with the banking system at the time of Edward I in the 1290s. There is indeed nothing new!