Upon the summit of the motte or mound, within the stockade, usually rose a wooden tower, which was the residence of the lord and the ultimate stronghold and vantage point of the castle by reason of its superior height. The exact time and place or origin of this type of fortification is unknown. A castle of this type was mentioned for the first time in ad 1010 and stood on the banks of the Loire in France. It was built by a man skilled in military affairs whose name was Fulk Nerra. He was also the first man to employ mercenary soldiers. It cannot be denied that a motte is a fortress for a man who wishes to defend his family and close friends from all would-be enemies, whether other lords or his own rebellious retainers. Whatever its origin, the motte was in wide use in Normandy before William conquered England.

The tower on the motte was not always a crude and uncomfortable lodgingon stilts as stood at Durham in the castle of Prior Laurence: ‘Four posts are plain, on which it rests, one post at each strong corner.’ Many were comfortable tower houses, as described by Lambert of Ardres in 1117: Arnold, Lord of Ardres, built on the motte of Ardres a wooden house, excelling all the houses of Flanders of that period both in material and in carpenters’ work. The first storey was on the surface of the ground, where were cellars and granaries, and great boxes, tubs, casks and other domestic utensils. In the storey above were the dwelling and common living rooms of the residents, in which were the larders, the rooms of the bakers and butlers, and the great chamber in which the lord and his wife slept.

Adjoining this was the private room, the dormitory of the waiting maids and children. In the inner part of the great chamber was a certain private room, where at early dawn, or in the evening, or during sickness, or at time of blood letting, or for warming the maids and weaned children, they used to have a fire… In the upper storey of the house were garret rooms, in which on the one side the sons (when they wished it) and on the other side, the daughters (because they were obliged) of the lord of the house used to sleep. In this storey the watchmen and servants appointed to keep the house also took their sleep at some time or other. High up on the east side of the house in a convenient place was the chapel, which was designed to resemble the tabernacle of Solomon in its ceiling and painting. There were stairs and passages from storey to storey, from the house into the kitchen, from room to room and again from the house into the loggia, where they used to sit in conversation for recreation, and again from the loggia into the oratory.

It may be noted that neither the Bayeux Tapestry, nor indeed many of the contemporary accounts, mention or show the bailey. It should not be deduced from these facts that in most castles the bailey did not exist, but it should be taken as an implication of the immense importance of the motte both militarily and socially. The bailey must have been essential for stables, barns, smithies and affording shelter for the garrison and its supplies in most, if not all, of the early Norman strongholds. As mentioned above, the Bayeux Tapestry shows several of these castles withtheir towers on the motte and bridges in position. The pictures of the siege of the castle at Dinan shows just how vulnerable they were when fire was used. There can be little doubt that the walls were hung with wet hides to prevent them catching fire.

One of the many tragedies that must have overtaken these houses and their besieged occupants happened in 1190 when the Jews of York were attacked by a mob and had taken refuge in the motte, and many of them perished when it was fired. Motte-and-bailey castles were cheap and quick to build but a castle of importance required more permanent defences, and as timber in contact with damp soil rots quickly, the second build of such a castle would at least be on stone sleeper walls if not entirely rebuilt in stone when circumstances allowed. It was at this time that many sites were abandoned in favour of stronger and healthier sites. Elsdon Castle, the best motte-and-bailey in Northumberland, never had stonework built on it as the occupants moved out when the timber decayed. The remainingmounds, known as the Moat Hills, are worthy of inspection.

The next step in castle building came about by a change of materials rather than tactics, and the keep-and-bailey castle came into being. The keep, normally, was a large square stone structure taking the place of the motte, or incorporating it in its own defences, as at Warkworth. The plans of these castles were the same as those of timber, though as the first urgency of the conquest declined and the lords began to seek the comfort and safety of stone, quite a number of the original sites were abandoned, as was Elsdon, for safer and more suitable ones. The main gate, the most vulnerable point of the bailey, was the first to bestrengthened by a stone tower. A strong square tower, beneath which ran theentrance passage, would be built. Then came the bailey walls enclosing the site; this enabled the occupants to work in safety on the keep and other offices. Norman ramparts can still be seen under the successive layers of stonework of nearly every period at Alnwick, Warkworth, Morpeth, Mitford and Norham.

As mentioned above, keeps were normally large square structures, as at Newcastle, Norham, Bamburgh and Prudhoe. The normal arrangements in these large towers or keeps can be seen to advantage at Newcastle. It is obvious that much in the way of comfort was sacrificed, but in days of peace there would be other more comfortable lodgings in the bailey. Because of their weight, great towers and keeps were seldom placed on the earlier mounds as at Warkworth. To replace the security offered by the height of the motte, the entrance to the later stone keeps was often on the first-or even the second-floor level and housed by a forebuilding.

Bamburgh, built on its rock, was so inaccessible as to be safe with its entrance on the ground floor, or so the builders thought. No two keeps are exactly the same, but all are similar in many respects, internally and externally. They have shallow but tresses in the centre of each side and at the corners. The corner ones often terminate in small angle turrets, but the bases of all of them are splayed. The walls were of great height so as to protect the high-pitched roof from fire arrows. In some castles, such as Warkworth, the keep was so large and of such excellent design that it may have been in general use and at least would have been much more comfortable than most.

Extracted from Castles and Strongholds of Northumberland by Brian Long

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By the beginning of the 1800s, Bath had one of the largest populations in Britain. Thousands visited the city for the season, often to take the reputedly health-improving waters. As well the daily visit to the Pump Room and myriad Georgian pastimes – from angling to travelling zoos – they promenaded the Parades, danced at the Assembly Rooms, gambled at cards, and visited ‘the Abbey-Church‘. There, as Dr. Henry Harington quipped, they could see around its walls monuments and busts which showed ‘how well Bath waters lay the dust’.

Attending a service at the Abbey was part of Bath’s social scene where card sharps and tricksters ‘infested … the very churches’ and beaux made eyes at and passed notes to prospective lovers as at a ball: ‘the Ladies were the only Saints several came there to Adore’, bemoaned one writer. In wet weather, the Abbey was also a place to promenade ‘after church time’. In addition to the living one might meet, visitors walking in the church could experience an unparalleled ‘gallery of sculpture’ commemorating the dead. Oil painters such as William Hoare and Thomas Gainsborough had showrooms where they exhibited work in the 1770s. However, before the city’s now-celebrated museums and galleries, the Abbey was the only permanent place one could view the latest works of sculpture in Bath, some by celebrated London-based sculptors such as John Bacon, John Francis Moore, and John Flaxman.

Samuel Grimm’s 1788 depiction of A Service at Bath Abbey shows the Nave and the impact on and the extent to which the monuments dwarfed the congregation, with busts of the previous century looking down from the heights of the window mullions and Tudor pillars (Colour Plate G). In June 1780, the writer and diarist Fanny Burney attended the Abbey one Sunday morning and ‘after church-time’ spent ‘an hour or two looking over the abbey-church, and reading epitaphs’. The actor James Quin’s and novelist Sarah Fielding’s monuments caught her eye causing her to wonder if anyone would erect such monument to her.

John Nixon’s drawing of ‘Quins monument, Bath’, which appeared as the frontispiece to the European Magazine and London Review in 1792, shows the Abbey ‘after church-time’ at the end of the eighteenth century. Like other eighteenth-century images of the interior, it shows a number of people walking around the church taking in the monuments. Nixon’s drawing is especially interesting in that it contrasts a trio of well-to-do male mourners for Quin with a working-class woman in an apron and a boy looking at another monument. In the background, a pair of elderly ladies observe a large monument in the North Aisle. For rich and poor, old and young, by the end of eighteenth century the Abbey’s monuments were a spectacular collection of ancient and contemporary sculpture, by some of the most celebrated local and national sculptors. They were a chance for viewers to see the most recent works of a popular artform from London, including those to famous individuals drawn out for special mention by local commentators, and to see Bible stories, symbols of Christian faith, and representations of resurrection before their eyes.

To eighteenth century eyes such monuments were both edifying and instructive. The Bath Chronicle drew its readers’ attention to the latest works that could be viewed and appealed to them for subscriptions to proposed works. Before the work of G.P. Manners in the mid-1830s and the installation of stained glass windows from the mid-nineteenth century, the Abbey’s monuments were the principal way in which the interior of the church was modernised and beautified annually. So popular were the monuments by 1778 that the Abbey produced its own guidebook to them. It was obviously popular in itself since the book ran to an updated second edition and was sold by the sexton, who also took a small fee for guiding visitors around the monuments. Every seven years, Georgians could also pay threepence to see the tomb of Margaret and Thomas Lichfield (Queen Elizabeth I’s lutenist) opened and inspect their mummified remains.

By the time of Victoria’s reign, church monuments had begun to fall out of fashion and were regarded as excessive distractions from what should be plainer, worshipful church interiors. The Abbey, like many cathedrals, attracted criticism for its ‘marble excresences;– sepulchral fungi;– stone tumours’. In particular, Westminster and Bath Abbeys had ‘become mere show rooms of sculpture, and warehouses of marble’, more akin to stonemasons’ yards than houses of God. The pewing of the church, introduction of central heating, and rearrangement of the monuments as part of Sir George Gilbert Scott’s reordering of the interior left the monuments in forms and locations almost unrecognisably different from their pride of place in the Georgian Abbey.

Yet Scott’s work led to a renewed appreciation of the monuments and the Abbey interior and late Victorian writers, such as Emma Marshall and Mary Deane, continued to celebrate the Abbey’s monuments’ Georgian hey-day and their attraction to the city’s tourists.

Dr. Oliver Taylor’s book Bath Abbey’s Monuments: An Illustrated History tell’s the full story of Bath Abbey’s monuments for the first time and highlight the significance of the collection. Bath Abbey contains the greatest number of church monuments in any UK church or cathedral. Drawing on a wealth of unpublished material on the Abbey’s history, the book explains how the church and the city used monuments to help the Abbey rise from the aftermath of the Dissolution, to give it a new identity, a unique floor, and walls that tell the social history of Bath.

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The secrets of the archaeologist’s trade – how to identify the sites around us and how to get a feel for life as it was lived way back then from the sites’ details – are freshly uncovered in the revised new 4th edition of my book Visiting the Past: A Guide to Britain’s Archaeology. But here’s just a sample taster of what you might spot from some of the wonderful sites – grand and small and local – as we take a journey through the ages of Britain’s archaeology.

1. Palaeolithic, Old Stone Age

Early human species lived in Britain, leaving footprints and dropping a stone axe at Happisburgh, Norfolk, 900,000 years ago. Homo heidelbergensis also left stone hand axes and bones at their butchery sites half a million years ago As Ice Ages came and went, Neanderthals appeared in Britain and later, by 30,000 years ago, modern humans also arrived. The evidence for them is pretty much restricted to their bones which we can view in museums such as the Natural History Museum in London.

2. Mesolithic, Middle Stone Age

This was the age of nomadic hunter-gatherers whose homes have long since rotted away. But they left piles of shells in the middens (rubbish areas) outside their rock shelters. You can visit one at Sand on the Applecross Peninsula in Scotland. 11,000 years ago, people danced in headdresses made of deer skulls and antlers (on display in the Yorkshire Museum), presumably to bless the hunt.

At this time, much of the sea between Britain’s east coast and Denmark used to be lush land (which we now call Doggerland)? Many ancient tools that are dredged up from the (now) North Sea were made in the Mesolithic age, before the sea levels rose.

3. Neolithic, New Stone Age

Six thousand years ago, folk began to build permanent settlements. Astonishingly preserved evidence of Neolithic life has been found on the Orkney islands, north east from mainland Scotland. You can visit 5,600-year-old homes (Knap of Howar, the oldest upstanding house in N. Europe is unmissable!), villages (such as famous Skara Brae), the ceremonial site of the so-recently discovered Ness of Brodgar, multi-person tombs (ranging from the cathedral-like Maeshowe to the almost cute Cuween Cairn), and stone circles that were in vogue from the 6m high Stones of Stenness (c.3,100 BC) to the perfect circle of the Ring of Brodgar (built in the early Bronze Age in c.2,400 BC).

4. Bronze Age

The discovery of how to make shining bronze from copper and tin changed the world. When the ‘Beaker People’ came to Britain in c.2,200 BC, they brought their own culture, bronze goodies, and an elite class who were buried in their own personal tumuli (burial mounds) with all their material goods – swords, daggers, pots of food, gold grave goods and jewellery. This innovative age spawned a whole array of styles of tombs but stone circles were still a part of ceremonial life too; even the famous huge sarsen stones of Stonehenge (which had been begun in the late Neolithic) were erected in the Bronze Age.

It was a rich age, full of rock art, wooden walkways, roundhouses and settlements, trade and farming, all of which have left their mark in our landscapes (and even in shipwrecks at the bottom of the sea!).

5. Iron Age

After an Icelandic volcano erupted in 1159 BC, 20 years of devastating continuous winters in NW Europe followed; peat formed on what had been the best farmland and the early Iron Age dawned at a tough time. Land hunger created clashes made sharper by the new discovery of how to turn ubiquitous iron ore into lethal swords.
The remains of forts like Maiden Castle in Dorset and Tre’r Ceiri in Wales are solid and impressive. Scotland perfected the building of windowless towers called brochs; visit Orkney’s Broch of Gurness and Shetland’s towering Mousa Broch to sense just how imposing these places were!

All sorts of buildings were invented: roundhouses continued but wheelhouses, blockhouses, crannogs teetering on stilts above the lakes, and even enigmatic earth house tunnels became common.

6. Roman Period

Julius Caesar invaded Britain in 55 & 54 BC but it was Emperor Claudius’ invasion in AD 43 that turned England and Wales into Britannia, a province of Rome. First, the forts spread, stretched along Hadrian’s Wall and, for a while, beyond into Aberdeenshire. New urban town life followed. Roman country villas such as Fishbourne, Brading or Lullingstone, amongst many others, are some of the best archaeological sites you can visit; posh dining rooms with mosaics, a wealth of smart dining crockery and glassware, maybe even fragments of wall paintings make for a colourful experience. And nearly every museum in England and Wales has something from the Roman times!

The Romans were followed by the invading Anglo-Saxons and Vikings with their settlements and warrior bling. Next, medieval sites include stunning ruins of abbeys, monasteries and castles that make for fabulous days out. Churches often have medieval origins that dominate them or perhaps can only be glimpsed. More subtle hints of medieval life in medieval field systems are still visible, and clues to industrial watermills and furnaces lurk in the countryside. In the centuries that followed forts and houses were modernised, church decoration ebbed and flowed with the Reformation and royal switching of churches, and the industrial revolution steamed across the land.

Knowing what to look for at sites like these brings the past vividly to life. Join me in Visiting the Past and walk in the footsteps of those who lived hundreds, and even thousands, of years ago!

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The heavy stone vault webs of the late 11th – early 12th century cathedral of Durham are supported by ribs, thin skeins of joined stones, some running crosswise – transversely – with others forming a diagonal mesh. A number spring upwards from the great columns which dominate the building while others, like climbers on a precarious rock-face, cling to small stone fittings jutting out from the walls – corbels – a word fittingly derived from the word for a crow or raven. There are in the nave and transepts thirty-four of these, and the majority are ‘grotesques’, contorted humanoid faces (there being no animals), nevertheless they do fall into several clearly definable groups; there are 20 grotesques, 7 personalised (i.e. with identifiable, normal faces), 4 damaged beyond interpretation, and 3 adapted, clearly cut from stones that once served other purposes. In one or two cases these categories could be challenged, but as none are likely to have been replaced (with the conceivable exception of one or two of the ‘adapted’ ones), we are undoubtedly left with a Norman conundrum, indisputably falling before 1133 the accepted date for the completion of the Norman building.

But what do we have here? Each has been photographed (thankfully before ’improvements’ to the lighting made this nearly impossible); each has been described, tabulated, and considered, and…then…we inevitably move towards possible interpretations. Meaning? Have they a religious significance? It appears not! Yet they sit high up in the cathedral interior. At this juncture heated debate and dogmatic opinion must appear for there can be no certainties, as neither masons nor monks have left us explanations. In the grotesques we are faced with flaring nostrils, bulbous staring eyes, great teeth and tongues protruding or balled (Surely ‘Yah! Boo!’?), small, pointed cat-like ears, with hair stylised as a ripple along the upper edges of the stones. The philtrum, that space between the nose and the upper lip, is often drawn into the design, exaggerated, and with nostrils blending with the prominent cheekbones. These are indeed the faces of nightmares, and yet they remain human, or at least have a humanoid aspect.

Perhaps it is the ‘personalised’ faces that give clues; two are of the same old man, one almost smiling and set at location within the south transept of the building and looking towards a curiously abnormal column – the ‘hybrid column’ – while a second … surely angry and displeased … placed above the nave, looks towards part of its structure dated after about 1120. They resemble formidable cartoons! In fact, both may occupy critical junctions in the build, and while it can never be proven this ‘Archbishop Tutu’ face (the parallels are striking), full of deep humanity, could conceivably be Prior Turgot, who along with Bishop William de St. Calais, was the mentor of the great building before moving to the see of St. Andrews, Scotland between about 1107-9. After fraught experiences there he returned, to die in Durham in 1115. Are we seeing here more of a story than historians normally dare to tell from such tenuous and insubstantial evidence?

Three more of the personalised faces stand out: they are certainly not grotesques but clear representations of human reality; the first is an older man, with a strong face and a stiff ‘Amish’ style beard, lacking a moustache; a second is similar, but is enhanced by a moustache, while the third is of a young man, with no beard and a neat small moustache, a face that would grace any film villain – ‘lock up your daughters’! Placed in the nave and on no interpretable order, these are people, and we can only guess that either we have a master mason and two of his apprentices, or more probably the master mason, his son and grandson. It must be stressed that at this remote time – over 900 years ago – we have no evidence that could stand up in court, but this is a reasonable interpretation.

There is a little more: trace evidence, not least the similarity of stonework details and decoration shows that some Durham masons moved into Scotland to work on the royal church of Dunfermline abbey, and a document of about 1154 refers to land granted by king Malcolm IV to the abbey, land held by Ælric a ‘master mason’. It is probable that this records an earlier grant, probably by Alexander I, who was generous enough to do something that Durham did not do, gifting to Ælric a substantial piece of land for his services.

The technicalities of all this are not for a short account, for the holding was in a form of tenure known as elemoisina, at this early stage a grant made in charity. By the early 13th century termed ‘Masterton’, i.e. ‘the estate of the master mason’, and has persisted to appear as a suburb of Dunfermline city to this day. The original grant probably took place in or soon after about 1107, when Turgot, Durham’s Prior (head of the Durham monastery and archdeacon) was made Bishop of St. Andrews, and Ælric may have been induced (assuredly by the promise of land) to move north at about that date to begin the construction of the new abbey church while leaving the work in Durham in the capable hands of his son and/or grandson.

The latter, whichever, introduced the powerful chevroned detailing of the vault ribs in Durham, and eventually brought striking chevroned work to Dunfermline, taking possession of the royal lands gifted to his father…and establishing the Masterton family, elements of which are still to be found in the town. This fact offers support for a family relationship between the stone faces. While, as has been stressed, absolute proof cannot be forthcoming, the argument is sustained by both the fabric of the two buildings and in documents recorded in the monastic cartulary of Holy Trinity at Dunfermline. In this context the three personalised faces assume meaning, for it was Ælric, surely the older of the three, who must have been the mason of the earliest phase of the work at Durham.

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The wall, one of the few constants in an ever-changing city, is built from courses of grey-green Kentish ragstone blocks. These were quarried 127km away to the east in the upper Medway Valley by the Classis Britannica Roman navy before being transported down the Medway and up the Thames. Every few courses the grey-green stones are interrupted by striking bonding layers of flat orange tile. These were designed by the Romans to give the wall flex in case of an earthquake.

Few think it beautiful, but I do. Even fewer know it dates back to the great warrior Emperor Septimius Severus. Hacking his way to power in the ‘Year of the Five Emperors’ in AD 193, he soon had to fight off the challenge of the usurping British governor, Clodius Albinus. The pair clashed at the titanic Battle of Lugdunum (modern Lyon) in Gaul in AD 197. This was the largest recorded civil war battle in Roman history, with 200,000 men engaged.

Severus won, only just, after two days of brutal fighting. Albinus was beheaded, his body trampled by Severus on his stallion. The emperor’s next action was to send military inspectors to Britain to bring the recalcitrant province back into the imperial fold. Their first act was to build the enormous land walls of London. This took over 420,000 man-days to complete, needing 45,000 tonnes of ragstone for the facing alone.

They were designed not to keep out an external threat, but to send the elites and citizens of the provincial capital a blunt message: behave or else. Such is a prime example of the legacy of Rome in this farthest north-western corner of empire, the wall circuit that defines the City of London – the Square Mile – to this very day. A relic to a failed usurper.

There are many examples of the Roman legacy in Britain, some visible above the surface, some below it, and some purely cultural. Rome’s legacy here actually manifests in three very specific ways. First, much of the modern built environment and transport infrastructure is a direct result of the Roman occupation. Think of the provincial capital London with the striking Severan example above, the many towns and cities that were originally the site of a Roman fortress or fort, and the pre-motorway trunk road network. This is specifically linked to the laborious and lengthy campaigns of conquest here that lasted over forty years, far longer than in other parts of the empire.

Second, as part of this process the far north and Ireland were never conquered, despite at least two intense efforts regarding the former. This set in place the political settlement of the islands of Britain that exists to this day. Third, the catastrophic way the later diocese of Britannia left the empire in the early fifth century ad. Today, many believe Britain a place of difference in Europe, as evidenced by the fierce debate when Britain exited the European Union. Few realise this sense of variance dates back directly to the end of Roman rule in Britain.

Extracted from The Legacy of Rome by Simon Elliott

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Of course, other cities and sites in the southwest are particularly important for an age or time. Stonehenge certainly, or the Neolithic long barrows of the Cotswolds, or the Iron Age Maiden Castle in Dorset. Roman Cirencester is comparable, as are the Saxon ‘burhs’ or forts of Wessex. Medieval Bristol or Salisbury may just outstrip Gloucester in wealth and importance. But the city’s contribution during the Civil War is unmatched and its industrial development afterwards eclipsed only by Bristol.

The difference, of course, is that Gloucester does not represent a paragon of a single period of history. It’s an important place throughout recorded history and before. From its foundations as a Roman fort (possibly mentioned by Tacitus in ‘The Annals’), through to the present day, Gloucester contains a series of nationally and internationally important archaeological sites layered on top of each other – intercutting, reacting and growing. From Roman Fortress to Colonia, from middle Saxon trading site to Mercian capital. From medieval royal town to Parliamentarian strongpoint. From sleepy administrative centre to industrial powerhouse, Gloucester’s history is in many ways, the history of England. But, like every busy urban centre in the last fifty years, it’s a history that has suffered.

Time and again, in the 1960s and 70s, choices have been made that have caused the destruction of so much of Gloucester’s precious legacy. Her historic buildings torn down – her archaeological secrets ripped up and cast aside. Of course, many people worked hard to save what they could. For example, in 1966, before the creation of the Eastgate Market, archaeologists and volunteers undertook one of Gloucester’s first major rescue excavations. They found hugely important archaeological remains, including fragments of beautiful mosaics.

They recorded and saved what they could, doing a fantastic job under the circumstances. Today, if remains like this were found they would either be left alone or would be afforded pride of place in the Museum of Gloucester.

The same pattern was to be repeated over the course of the 1970s and 80s. Brilliant work was done by dedicated people, but with no powers or support from the planning system. By the late 1980’s the city had established its own archaeological unit. A great example of their important work was the excavation of the early Roman waterfront structures at Upper Quay street in 1989.

This was a hugely important excavation – the timber structures were probably situated within an inlet of the Severn and the site served the early Roman fortress as a small quay. But because these works were done before archaeology was protected as part of the planning process, the funding wasn’t available to finish the post-excavation work or publish the site (happily this was completed last year). But the general story, until the late 1990’s, is of archaeological work being undertaken as a rescue project in response to new development. Now, whilst some of this has been done really very well, much remains unfinished, awaiting publication and is therefore unknown to the public at large.

Over the last 40 years Phil Moss has produced a wonderful array of well researched and beautifully produced reconstruction drawings and paintings of what Gloucester may have looked like in the past. This body of work provides a brilliant resource for someone seeking to understand this fascinating, complicated city.

The aim, when writing the book Gloucester: Recreating the Past was firstly to use the artwork of Phil Moss help tell the story of this city. Secondly it was to help people comprehend, and therefore value, the unique heritage of this place, and finally, it was to warn people what happens when these things are not protected. If this book can help the people of Gloucester learn more about their city’s history and value that history, then it will have been worth the effort.

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So, as things start to return to normality following 2020, let us focus on some amazing stone circles. In particular, those found in the Lake District. From its soaring fells to the shores of the Irish Sea, you can find yourself alone with a stunning view and an ancient stone circle.

If you would like to know more about the circles listed below, as well as many more sites across Cumbria – please consider reading my new book Cumbria’s Prehistoric Monuments. Those listed here are only the tip of a vast iceberg, which includes cairns, long barrows, henges, stone avenues, and much more.

1. Swinside (otherwise known as Sunkenkirk)

Castlerigg’s younger, less famous cousin takes the top spot on our list. Swinside (or Sunkenkirk) is an archetypal stone circle.

Swinside is located beside the aptly named ‘Grey Stones Fell’, north of the Duddon Estuary, and is only just within the National Park. Swinside isn’t particularly like Castlerigg, despite frequent comparisons. It shares far more in common with ‘Long Meg and Her Daughters’ near Penrith.

2. Elva Plain

At number two is Elva Plain, a large, but ruinous circle to the north of Bassenthwaite. It has a lot in common with its neighbour, Castlerigg. It is large and made up of large megaliths. It provides breath-taking views of well-known Lake District Fells. But, unlike Castlerigg, Elva Plain has escaped the clutches of the tourist industry. If you want to experience Castlerigg without the coach parties – try Elva Plain.

3. Castlerigg

A controversial choice at number three, is Castlerigg. It resides on a hill to the east of Keswick, overlooking many beloved fells. It is easy to understand why this is one of England’s most popular prehistoric sites. With ample parking, a regular ice-cream van, and information placards, Castlerigg is well kitted out for visitors.

Unlike many of the circles listed here, which date to the Early Bronze Age, Castlerigg was created in the Neolithic period. Though to date to an estimated 3200 BC, this awe-inspiring circle ranks among Britain’s earliest.

Three Bronze Age burial cairns are found within the circle, as well as a potential rock art motif. These were later additions, added hundreds (if not thousands) of years after the circle’s creation.

4. Brats Hill

At number four is Brats Hill, Cumbria’s 3rd widest stone circle, behind Gamelands and Long Meg. It sits only eighty metres southeast of the White Moss circles. Bones found within the circle were dated to the Early Bronze Age (est. around 2500 – 2000 BC).

Brats Hill varies in grandeur throughout the year. In Summer and Autumn, the long moorland grasses obscure most of the circle’s stones. In Winter, however, the monument takes on a new, more impressive form. Five large cairns sit within the circle, as well as several tall standing stones.

5. The Cockpit

The Cockpit resides on Moor Divock, a tract of moorland south of Ullswater. The Cockpit is not a stone circle in the traditional sense, but rather two closely concentric rings of stone. A band of cobbling connects these rings, giving the circle its donut-like shape.

It is an odd circle, and few comparable monuments exist in England. It may be a large example of a ‘ring cairn’, as it shares its form with examples found near Levens.

6. Low Kingate

While unimpressive from ground level (or at any level for that matter), Low Kingate gets my number six spot for its rarity. Low Kingate is the only ‘concentric stone circle’ in the Lake District. This is an uncommon style of circle where two or more rings are arranged within one another.

Its situation is also unique. Sitting at the side of the Troutbeck Valley, off Kirkstone Pass, Low Kingate commands some of the best views in the South Lakes. From here you can see the Tongue, Ill Bell, and Yoke.

7. Bleaberry Haws

Bleaberry Haws is a small hill on the moorland under Coniston Old Man. Hosting many Bronze Age monuments, the hill is best known for its little stone circle. Getting there requires a hike, and a vast bog stands between the path and the hill. Good boots go a long way.

While this is certainly a circle, created using stone, it is not a stone circle by any classical definition. Excavations have shown that Bleaberry Haws Stone Circle is the remains of a small Bronze Age hut. The likes of which are common across the nearby moorlands.

8. White Moss

The White Moss circles can be found on Burnmoor, a moorland tract beneath Scafell Pike. The moor contains over 400 prehistoric features. An archaeological paradise.

They are small circles surrounding inner funerary cairns. This is a style of monument known as ‘burial circle’. These enclosures, which date from the Early Bronze Age (2500 – 1500 BC), could have served as burial markers. The presence of cremations in similar circles suggests a link to funerals.

9. The Millom Lines – Giants Grave

Found along the coast, from Millom to Bootle, the ‘Millom Lines’ are the remains of several Early Neolithic earthworks. They are visible as ‘cropmarks’: lines seared into crop fields during hot weather. This reveals where trenches were dug into the bedrock.

The clearest examples are found next to the Giants Grave, west of Kirksanton. Here we see a circular trench, with inner pits, which may once have contained stones. Had they survived into the modern era, they may have been among the most impressive prehistoric monuments in Britain.

10. Kinniside

Kinniside Stone Circle is situated on the moorland under Blakely Raise Fell. What we see today (a small ring of stones) is the result a modern restoration.

The original circle, removed to make way for the plough, was likely similar in form. However, the stones used in the restoration are not believed to be original.

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Beyond these main centres, the work of the Arts and Crafts architects awaits discovery in most towns and villages although it may not always be easy to find.  Rooted in tradition and respectful of context, these buildings were designed to melt into their surroundings. From country houses to public baths and garden walling, the craftsmanship expressed a joy in the particular qualities of each material and in the natural beauty of the Cotswold countryside. Sentimental and idealistic as this may seem, these designers were driven by a social and moral conscience that railed against the impact of industrialisation on rural life. They sought to revive the local building crafts not to mimic some lost idyll but to reinvent them so that they might survive. Their designs had to be practical and affordable to address the whims of wealthy escapists and their demands for modern comforts as well as the pressing issues of rural poverty and depopulation.    

Domestic architecture made up the bulk of their commissions. As many of these, especially the larger houses, remain in private ownership, this list includes only the more accessible places, such as buildings or groups of buildings that can be viewed from the road or village street, houses open to the public, and church interiors.  Although many of the leading architects and designers are included, the list cannot hope to represent the range and quality of their work, and excludes examples located in the principal centres referred to above. The places listed are all in Gloucestershire unless otherwise stated, and are given roughly in order of location from north to south to help plan a journey through the region.  

Wormington

The Church of St. Katherine has Norman origins. It was rebuilt in the C15 and restored in 1926 by Sidney Barnsley, who also designed the pulpit and pews. The east window is by Morris & Co, 1912, for Mrs Henry Gordon Clegg, and was inspired by the Burne-Jones figures from a window in Oxford cathedral of 1878.  The vestry curtains are also of a Morris design. The west door and probably the altar rails are attributed to Norman Jewson and the woodwork is by Peter Waals, c.1931.  Not open to the public, the garden at Wormington Grange includes work by E. Guy Dawber, of 1919, and Jewson, c,1930, and has gates by Alfred Bucknell and a statue by Alec Miller.

Stanway

Detmar Blow undertook repairs and alterations at Stanway House. Beside the main road, is the extraordinary war memorial by Alexander Fisher of 1920. Its bronze statue of George and the Dragon is set on a stone plinth by Sir Philip Stott of nearby Stanton, with carving by Eric Gill.

Snowshill

Snowshill House (National Trust), a manor house of C16 origin, was purchased in 1919 by Charles Paget Wade, who restored it and also designed the garden with M.H.Baillie Scott. The war memorial in the village is by F L Griggs.  C.E.Bateman repaired and altered two houses.  Tower Close is of C16 origin with a late C17 addition. It was converted into 3 cottages and Bateman converted it back to a single dwelling, 1914-20, for Sydney Bolton Russell, father of Gordon Russell.  Green Close was formerly a row of 4 cottages, converted by Bateman into a house for Mr H Peech.  

Painswick

Renowned for its churchyard crammed with fine chest tombs and yews. The war memorial is by F.L.Griggs and Norman Jewson. Sidney Barnsley, William Curtis Green, and P R Morley-Horder contributed several key buildings, all with inscriptions carved by Eric Gill. Look out for Curtis Green’s Institute of 1906-7 in Bisley Street. On the hillside off Gyde Road, is Morley-Horder’s Gyde Orphanage of 1915-18, and Barnsley’s Gyde Almshouses, 1912-13, five pairs of semi-detached houses designed with typical understated flair and including a square gazebo.  

Stroud

The Church of St Alban in Parliament Street is a small mission church by Thomas Falconer built 1912-14. Its unprepossessing street frontage belies its extraordinary vibrant Byzantine-inspired interior. The rood screen with its painted figures is by Henry Payne.

Overbury

Although Overbury sits beneath Bredon Hill in Worcestershire, its transformation was very much part of the Cotswold Arts and Crafts ethos. Richard Norman Shaw began remodelling the village for Robert Martin in the 1870s. After 1897, Richard Biddulph Martin continued the project till 1916, followed by his nephew, Robert Holland-Martin.  Shaw’s contribution included the distinctive post office and stores, village hall and the cottages near the church. Ernest Newton, first in his capacity as Shaw’s assistant and later in his own right, designed new houses and cottages, alterations and extensions, agricultural buildings, a water fountain (used as a bus shelter) and a horse pond, all incorporated cleverly into the whole. The pretty lychgate is by Herbert Baker, 1921.  

Minchinhampton Common

Many fine early C20 houses line the common including a few by the Barnsley brothers, Norman Jewson, Thomas Falconer and also Falconer, Baker & Campbell, including one with a butterfly plan by Falconer. The memorial cross in Minchinhampton is by Sidney Barnsley, 1919.

Saintbury

The Church of St Nicholas enjoys spectacular views. Norman in origin with a C14 chancel, it was restored c.1840, then again in 1902 by E. Guy Dawber and Arthur S. Flower. C.R.Ashbee re-roofed the chancel and in 1911 he designed its wrought-iron chandelier.  In the same year, Alec Miller made the figure of St Nicholas on the N door.  The screen in the N transept is by Gimson, c.1904, and the medieval altar has a reredos by Miller of 1925. Miller also designed the war memorial in the churchyard.

Sapperton

The home of Gimson and the Barnsley brothers, whose workshops and showrooms were at nearby Daneway House. Slabs of Edgworth limestone mark their tombs in the churchyard. The village hall of 1912-13 is by Ernest Barnsley for Lord Bathurst with assistance from Jewson, who also lived in Sapperton. The hall retains its original fittings including some splendid window seats.   

Tarlton

Visible from the lane, Studio Cottage was built by Alfred Powell for himself after the War c.1920; the studio was added c.1932. Cruck-framed and weatherboarded, this is a remarkable celebration of timber building techniques. Garden includes ha-ha.

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In 2019 the eagerly anticipated Titanic Survey Expedition was sadly postponed again, (while the Triton Submarines’ DSV Limiting Factor succeeded in making five dives in early August) so it makes sense to look back at the 25 years of previous expeditions and to try and give a scientific assessment of some of the most widespread and long-standing myths and often-repeated untruths of Titanic’s underwater history.

Dr Robert D. Ballard was the sole discoverer of the wreck of Titanic

No. It was joint French–American scientific team that first revealed the wreck of Titanic to the world in early September 1985. There is some reason to believe that the US science team’s leader, Robert Ballard, might probably have known something (about a large unidentified shipwreck or two shipwrecks lying next to each other in certain coordinates) prior to going on an expedition, but French input and participation were significant nonetheless. In fact, the French team had a very good chance to discover the wreck when they came within a few hundred meters of it with their newly developed deep-search sonar SAR in July. Ballard himself admitted that it was their joint discovery with the French. What Ballard undoubtedly did, even if he was working with an advantage from the US Navy classified data, was conclusively locate, identify and document the wreck of Titanic, which no one had really done before, and that was a major achievement in any case.

It’s Olympic, not Titanic down there

False. Notwithstanding the recent passing of Robin Gardiner, the most ardent ideologist and promoter of the so-called ‘switch theory’, the latter still pops up from time to time. However, the mere idea of replacing one sistership to another was thoroughly debunked by the most knowledgeable researchers and has lost its scientific credibility since then. There are numerous reasons and facts that make the Titanic/Olympic switch nonsensical and absolutely impracticable. First of all, despite being the ships of one class built from the same set of drawings, in actual fact they weren’t twin sisters and had thousands of large and small differences between each other, both inside and outside. The external insurance covered no more than 2/3 of the building cost of Titanic. The wreck itself and some of its recovered artefacts represent the most definitive material evidence: the starboard propeller blade (filmed close up in 1991), the helm indicator from the aft bridge, two six-point wrenches for piston-rods and other objects and mechanical details are all engraved with Titanic’s yard number, 401. The whole set of these arguments allows us to identify the wreck as Titanic with complete confidence.

For more detail see http://titanicswitch.com

Titanic broke top-down

Most probably no. The top-down break scenario gained popularity in the late 1990s, although the late Roy Mengot came up with the opposite theory yet in 1996 postulating that the vessel broke ‘from the bottom up, mainly’ (see https://wormstedt.com/RoyMengot/TitanicWreck/BREAKUP/Breakup.html). The most recent and accurate computer modeling based on the latest calculations performed in 2011–2012 by naval architects of the US Naval Academy and the US Coast Guard (Dr Jeffrey Stettler and his colleague Brian Thomas), sponsored by James Cameron, has basically confirmed and elaborated the bottom-up break theory showing that most probably it was the ship’s keel that had failed first (see Stettler and Thomas’ joint paper “Flooding and Structural Forensic Analysis of the Sinking of the RMS Titanic” in Ships and Offshore Structures, Vol. 8, Issue 3–4, 2013). There is a set of indirect evidence to suggest that this was indeed what had happened. In either event, one should always bear in mind that, technically speaking, the lightweight upper superstructure – that is, everything above the level of B deck – is not an integral part of the ship’s hull. Therefore, any possible breakages in its structure (there are some witness reports of cracks or at least cracking sounds at the upper to the middle deck levels prior to the Final plunge) could not have affected the overall integrity of the main hull and its backbone – the keel.

The wreck – or the bow section at least – can be raised

Totally infeasible, even leaving aside the fact that the wreck is now a subject to the UNESCO 2001 Convention on the Protection of the Underwater Cultural Heritage (which is not ratified by many maritime countries though). What looks good in a 1980 science fiction/adventure film Raise the Titanic and also on paper, is impossible in reality primarily because of physical condition of the wreck. The bow section is in better shape comparing to the stern, but not fundamentally better – it’s far from being pristine. One of the problems is that it is cracked in at least two places. Another and more serious issue is that its entire forward end is buried deep into the mud, almost up to the anchor hawsepipes (i.e. about 45 ft). This mud is not a soft slime or gentle sand; it’s a very dense bottom sediment comparable to crude clay. The forward part of the bow is literally sunk in that clay stratum. Any attempt to raise the bow section will inevitably result in its collapse into pieces long before reaching the surface.

The debris field was plundered

Some people complain that Titanic’s debris field has become very poor and scanty after a series of salvage operations that picked up more than 5 thousand artefacts. They claim it is particularly noticeable in the area between the bow and the stern sections, where allegedly almost nothing is left at the present time. ‘Nothing could be farther from the truth,’ Ken Marschall objected in 2001. The full sonar map and segmentation of the debris fields/artefact scatter accomplished by the 2010 expedition revealed that most of the artefacts were always – since the early morning of 15 April 1912 – concentrated primarily to the south and the east of the stern, within an area of little less than a square mile and with very little material dispersed between the two main portions of the hull. Only ‘a few artefacts were found between the bow and the stern’, confirmed Paul-Henri Nargeolet in personal correspondence with this author, ‘and some on the west of the bow section. There are still thousands of artefacts in the debris field.’ Given the amount of objects still remaining both inside and outside the vessel, it seems unfair to accuse RMS Titanic, Inc. of ‘plundering’ the wreck site.

The wreck will disappear within approximately a 30-year term

This is most likely not true. In 30 years, the wreck will of course look vastly different from what we have today ; the superstructure will eventually collapse at some point. The natural processes of biodegradation and deterioration cannot be stopped or facilitated. According to calculations, Titanic loses between 0.13 and 0.20 tons of iron daily, even at this very moment. But we can be pretty confident that the wreck won’t turn into dust or ‘a rust stain on the bottom’ in any foreseeable future. It is safe to say, following Dr Roy Cullimore, that such parts of the vessel as, for example, her lateral propellers (whose blades were made from manganese bronze) or the prow will most probably still be present and clearly recognisable in 100 to 200 years, or maybe even later, because of the mechanical strength designed into them.

The following video shows the deterioration of the wreck during an August 2019 dive

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What drew you to working on London’s Thames Tideway Tunnel project?

I was drawn to work on the Thames Tideway Tunnel because of the transformational effect it would have on the health of the iconic River Thames in London.

Does London’s current sewerage system say anything about the history of the city?

London’s current sewerage system says a great deal about the city’s great Victorian heritage. Sir Joseph Bazalgette’s interceptor sewers were constructed to help eliminate cholera in the capital. Between 1848 and 1854 nearly 25,000 Londoners died of cholera, a disease borne by foul water.

What would happen if this project wasn’t undertaken?

If the project did not happen then 18 million tonnes of sewage, in an average year, would continue to overflow into the River Thames in London. It is simply not right to use the river, in one of the world’s greatest cities, as an open sewer.

How is the Thames Tideway Tunnel project unique?

The Thames Tideway Tunnel is currently the largest privately financed infrastructure project in Europe. It is also the largest project in the UK Water Industry for 150 years. The tunnel will be 7.2 metres in diameter and 25 km long, and will be constructed through one of the world’s most densely urbanised areas.

What has been the project’s biggest challenge to date?

The project’s biggest challenge to date has been the public consultation and gaining a Development Consent Order (planning permission for a Nationally Significant Infrastructure Project) to enable the construction of the Thames Tideway Tunnel. The public consultation and the planning application were both the largest ever in the UK.

Did you learn anything surprising whilst writing this book?

The most surprising thing I learnt whilst writing the book was that very few books have been written on either the development or the construction of major infrastructure projects.

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