SPQR Rings a Bell

This is worth a read.  

Bought through one of last years vouchers in W. H. Smith, not my favourite store, it took a while to read as I have several books on the go at one time.

Mary Beard, famous for her unkept appearance, which she emphasises for publicity, has studies the classics as they are called for over 50 years, so she must know something.  

Beginning at the beginning, Romulus and Remus, and all that, she attempts to discover what was in between the seven hills on which Rome was built.  The several thousand years or so of constant construction do however make this difficult.  We may never know what the actual origin of Rome was.

Mary attempts a brief history of Rome, through the Kings, the Republic, and onto Augustus time.  

The very nature of her task makes this difficult, all those years, far too little evidence in the far distant past, and the deductions of later historians who may not always be reliable do not help.

Cicero, Augustus, and other famous men, and a few woman, she would not miss them out, get a short hearing, and descriptions of housing, citizenship, punishments, Emperors, family life, wars at home and abroad, the Games, daily life for rich and poor, are all covered to some extent.  Even Christians are mentioned in passing, though it is clear Mary has little knowledge of their writings or purpose.  

All in all this vast book cover a vast number of years quite well.  As an introduction to Rome, at home and abroad, it is a good start.  Many areas require a deeper investigation and further reading suggestions are found at the back with other aids. 

Altogether a worthwhile book to read, but while readable it is not a short book!

On a dreich morning I forced myself out and up to the ironmongers shop.  Here I purchased a wee clock to sit beside me, I cannot see the time on the laptop as it is right in front of me, so I place a suitable clock slightly to the right and I can see that perfectly!  Why?  I don't know!

Anyway, I actually went for a new doorbell, one of those cordless ones that ought to beep when the postman rings the bell.  The previous bell was lying wounded on the ground the other day as it had taken too much punishment over the years from postmen, Amazon and Evri drivers.

So, I spent almost an hour fighting to remove the old one, who tightened that screw?  And screwing in the new one, back and forth until it all worked well.  A variety of tunes can be played on this one, almost all slushy Christmas tunes!  I just have the Bing-Bong thanks.

That done there has been no-one ringing it since, so I am yet to know if I can hear it if they do.  The suspense!  Of course I tried it, but the noise from the road made it difficult to hear.  It appears not so loud as the previous bell.  1st world problems.
They may not hear bells in Gaza today, too many bombs crashing down for that.

Stane Street

Tramping out of Camolodunum’s Balkerne Gate head west, Roman soldiers, mostly born in places better referred to as France and Flanders, probably knew little and cared a lot less about the age of the road along which they would trample.

The Balkerne Gate is still there by the way, half knocked down, and somewhat secured by recent council action. When the railway arrived around 1850, way down the hill, the publican situated at the gate took it upon himself to knock portions of it down thus enabling those arriving by train to see his Hostelry. It was an unwise step from a historical viewpoint, and I doubt it was very successful from his viewpoint as the walk uphill is indeed steep, but few would notice his pub from the station.

The wall had been built not long after Boudica and her Iceni friends arrived and burnt the place to the ground. Only the large cellar of what is now ‘Colchester Castle,’ remained, and that filled with burnt corpses. The people, now Romanised, were not regarded as loyal to the lady, therefore she treated them to the same regard she had already passed over to Verulaneum and Londinium. She was quite keen to share slaughter between all Romanised types.

Thus the wall that had not been erected in her day arose. An unfortunate mistake the Romans did not make again. No matter how trustworthy the Brits around them, the Romans built walls and defensive fortifications where they required them.

The soldiers would notice the road. It is possible they themselves had been involved in hardening the road themselves. Roman soldiers quickly learnt how to build fortifications, roads, and buildings to accompany them wherever they went. Partly this kept them busy, partly it kept them fit, always it enabled fast travel by the standards of the day for this vast military machine.

To this day the road remains almost exactly as it was then, heading west, it stretches out for 15 miles, up hill and down dale, nothing the soldiers would have found troublesome however, and after some fifteen miles (a days march) they would stop at a crossroads for the night, eat sleep and continue in the morning.

Sleep would be welcomed after the march as unless a few horse drawn carts could be found the soldier had to carry his own equipment, around 80 pounds in weight, similar to UK soldiers today.

He wore a tunic under his armour, a helmet on his head and his red cloak on his back. On his feet he wore military boots while carrying his shield and Pilum (his spear) and his sword dangled from his the belt around his waist. On the march much of this was thrown over his shoulder to make life easier, though how much easier the army personnel may dispute. On normal marches they would build a fort each night, a hard but important job in dangerous places. I suspect this was not required in what is now Essex as surely such accommodation as required was permanently built. However, I know not if this is the case.

Leaving the walled city was always dangerous for Romans, while most Brits were happy in these parts the experience of Boudica had left the Romans and the Romanised locals wary. At no time did Rome believe this land was secure enough to withdraw troops, they remained for several hundred years because of the troublesome natives.

Leaving the city the march takes them through Lexden, now a nice suburb for those who can afford it and then the outer reaches of defensive ditches created in the first century BC. Long ditches were dug in several places, with more added over the next 200 years. The Trinovanti had long suffered problems from the Catuvellaunii who ought to have remained in Hertfordshire where they belonged. This they did not and eventually took over Catolodunon (as called before the Romans changed the spelling) including the area of Lexden where a number of tombs can be seen, or mounds may be a better description, including one supposed to contain the remains of Cunobelinus, known as Cymbeline to some, the King of the Catuvellaunii.

The Roman Forum in the Age of Augustus:

Caesar: The Conquest of Gaul

Having bought myself a (cheap) Kindle for those occasions when I will travel again I needed some reading material for my delight.  Caesar was obviously one of those books we need, indeed must, read,

if only because all the clever people claim to have read this long ago at school, at the same time as I was perusing 'The Beano,' 'The Beezer,' and 'The Victor!'  

The idea of the book is simple, Julius Caesar, a man going places, had wangled his way into a very important position in the Roman heirarchy, and was given control of much of Gaul, now known as France, and also what we now refer to as Albania as Governor.  His ambition ensured he would seek to control and dominate all of Gaul, which he did eventually, and on the way he made attempts at curbing Germanic intrusion, and even an attempt or two at taking that strange offshore island Britannia.  He went too far beyond his authority in German territory and returned with little to say about this, therefore offering a description of the locals instead.  He also failed to conquer the Brits, though most of them were probably Belgique, but don't tell the Brexiteers that as it will upset them.  Clearly the Romans impressed the people of the island, we can tell this by the manner in which they moved away from him, and had he thought it through properly Julius may well have succeeded in a victory long before Claudius's forces managed to bring their elephants over some considerable time later.

Of course he never conquered Scotland.

He did however, conquer and gain complete control over Gaul.  While renown as a merciful victor, occasionally this went against him as some pacified elements would once again return to the fight when called upon, only at one rebellion did he slaughter somewhat ruthlessly in an attempt to prevent another uprising and that near the end of the wars.  

There is one flaw in the book, it was written, for the most part, by Julius himself!

He would settle down in the winter and write the report for the folks back in Rome, thus ensuring he was remembered and also making clear he had been successful.  It appears no alternative story was on offer.  The last chapter was written by friends after his untimely demise but is clearly influenced by his outlook.

Julius Caesar did eventually reach his goal of King in 49 BC, and was a successful dictator until 44 BC when the Republican sympathisers bumped him off undemocratically.  

The question that kept running through my mind was "Why?"  What was the point of taking over Gaul? The only reason was Roman pride and self importance, plus Julius's ambition.  Rome could have survived without this war.  Empires rise and fall often because of ambition, sometimes to prevent attacks on themselves and occasionally for wealth and resources.  All this raises pride, cries for 'freedom' and ends in mass slaughter, not always to the victors advantage.

Of course I was reading this late at night as I drowsily slipped into the nightly coma, so maybe I ought to have read it during the day?  I think the results would be the same.  

As well as an insight into the ways of the Gauls and Brits of the day it can also be seen as an insight into the Putin's and Johnson's of this world mind. 

I recommend it, for leisure reading... 

Hard Work....

"Hard work never killed anybody"  Or so stupid people used to say.  These were usually stupid people who were not involved in 'hard work.'  I however was so involved today.  Before I even started I had to check things were in place, put right the mess left from before and then sort some things out for the lass running the kids 'Stone Age' lessons today.  
Then I opened the door!
This art exhibition is bringing them in.  Numbers of them came early this morning, in small groups, and ones and two's to wander round purring at the exhibition.  We are becoming used to this.  Art lovers come some distance often passing through other galleries to stare contemplatively at the offerings.  So far none have grumbled and as they come specifically to see it I suppose they wouldn't.  Again they spoke of the capture of village life and again I wondered if any of them appreciated what working on a farm during the 'between the wars years' was really like.  Middle class artists painting and drawing on quiet roads can be appreciated but had I been up to my knees since dawn amongst turnips or cabbages I might not keep my silence when a chap suggests I pose for him.
The visitors do however inform us, and I inform the curator, that it is a well laid out exhibition and a credit to her and the museum.  When I tell her off this she gets defensive and through gritted teeth demands to know what I want!
Wimmen eh?

Talking of wimmen my colleague came in while I was burdened and behind my weary back ensured the heater was on full blast, I of course was sweating like a pig having run around for an hour, and she removed my excellent music and replaced it with a new one of her own!  This so she could sing along to the entire CD all day!  At least she made the tea, twice!  I might have died without it.
However, while I was busy, she then disappeared to help the kids and left me listening to this music while facing the hordes of visitors while she chatted happily to the kids and teachers!  Good job I am not one to complain.  
One mum, gran actually, brought in a child not yet two and controlled by reins.  Watching her struggle to browse the shop while not letting little Johnny destroy it innocently was enjoyable.  He did try mind.  While putting her card through for the goods purchased the Town hall clock rang twelve so we had to await the pin number while she took him outside to hear it ringing.  Good job the only other customer was also a grannie.  

One of the false gods loved by the Romans was found in a pit under what is now a shopping precinct.  In days of yore this was thought to contain Roman dwellings and this may have belonged to an individuals house and who knows why it was dumped.  Maybe they became Christian and threw it away.  There are several items from that 'dig' on display, coins from that time and before, stone age stone axes, and a lovely Mammoths tooth found down the road where such beasts once had their dinner.

 
Having been buried near the wee man on a horse and now behind glass this has not come out too well but does show the kind of thing Romans liked in their house.  Whether goddess or not I canny say but statues meant a lot to Romans.  Famous or commended people had statues built for them and placed  in prominent places as a reward for whatever.  This one shows what the well dressed Roman lass would look like while looking down her nose at others not quite so well off.

On the way home I came across this Rose on a bush in a garden.  I canny make up my mind it if is late from last year or a sign of Spring being around the corner?  I do hope it's the latter as it appears to have other buds ready to show nearby. 

Scraping the Barrel

In spite of many years of development, fire, redevelopment the Roman wall that once stood around Londinium can still be seen in places, the road called 'London Wall' kind of illustrates it well.  Here, just below the 'Museum of London' is one huge part which has as you can see been built upon many times since the Romans began it in the middle of the first century AD. 

From the tower that was the wall stretched southwards towards the Thames yet lay hidden for many years until those German Heinkel pilots dropped their bombs upon the then buildings standing here revealing the hidden gems for all to see.  Actually there is not much to see at all but the eager archeologists who strove to uncover the foundations and interpret their finds enjoyed greatly what they came upon.

   

Clearly the Victorian churchmen were not going to allow new constructions to steal a foot of their territory as in between what once were built here stood this sign, dated 1860, for all to see and take note off.  The Parish limits must be observed and it is important to ensure the correct people are in charge of appropriate spaces.  Anyway rates must be paid to the right hand innit guv.

I took this simply because I liked it.  This lamppost stands at the rear of the Gresham Centre, once St Anne & St Anne's Church, and now a centre for 'vocal music performance.'  I suppose in days of yore we called that 'singing?

Postman's Park hosts the memorial begun in the 19th century to those who died attempting to save others.  A noble enterprise that has not been continued by the tabloid press which is a pity.  There are numerous such heroic acts these days but these flash by with no permanent memorial to be found.

 

Yet another closed church on a Saturday yet clearly open during the week for the million or so City workers passing each other daily as they run the 'rat race.'  The 'Postman's Park is what once was the church grounds, the name coming from the nearby Royal Mail headquarters and the many post employees who sit in the park I suppose for lunch.  Here the memorial to the dead hero's stands among the remains of the old graveyard.  Now well tended and peaceful a welcome break for the city worker.

A break was indeed required so I made for the 'Lord Raglan' the only hostelry open and for the same price as my earlier Egg and bacon roll and coffee I obtained one pint of Guinness.  For London I suppose it was cheap!  This appeared to be the only pub for miles around, not that I looked, and from the window i watched the passersby pass by.  

Tourists and those connected to the never ending cyclists, people leaving the nearby Museum and a wedding party all in their finery heading for the Postman's Park for photographs.  Later, much later, a young woman in high heels too high for her wobbled past in that direction and I wished I had the video working at the time.  Fashion dictates and the results are not always in the lassies interests.  

  

The Lord Raglan pub stands in St Martins-le-Grand, a continuation of Aldersgate Street.  The name comes from the gate in the wall that once stood here, and the name itself possibly from a later Saxon, one 'Ealdred' after the Romans had long gone.  Aldersgate Street in in fact the beginning, or the end depending on which way you are travelling, of the A1, the Great North Road.  As such this is the gate through which James VI and I arrived in London in 1603 to claim the English throne and rightly place England under Scots control.  

During 1738 John Wesley attended a meeting here and while the preacher spoke on the Letter to the Romans John felt his heart 'strangely warmed' and the Methodists had begun.  Aldersgate was demolished in 1761 probably while rich folks houses were erected but I doubt John Wesley had anything to do with that.

The 'Lord Raglan' has been here for centuries, Shakespeare is supposed to have visited but he is supposed to have visited most pubs in London at one time, and this one was rebuilt in the mid 19th century and and named after the Crimean War General.  The pub retains a welcoming dark wooden Victorian interior.  I found the staff efficient even friendly, the place clean and well looked after and the toilets aged in style in keeping with the building but considerably cleaner than mine!  Upstairs snooker tables await those willing to show off!  I didn't.

  

Had I been young and rich I would of course travel about on one of these.  However I would not park it like this near a narrow road turning in central London!  Actually I would never have one of these, the one bike I got I destroyed by technical incompetence and this modern British 'Triumph' would not survive my skills.  I wanted a bike when I was 15 and stood outside Alexander's shop in Lothian Road hoping they would give me a spare 'BSA,' 'Triumph,' 'Norton' or even a wee 'James.'  They never did and by the time I was 17 they had all been killed off by the Japanese!  The British manufacturers refusal to change their ways led to huge sales of the vastly superiour 'Suzuki' and 'Honda's' killing the industry.  Man management, planning and unwillingness to change their ways killed them long before Maggie Thatcher was able to do so.

A quick last look again at the smell of the Thames and while the sewage bubbles under and the occasional tourist falls in and drifts off towards the open sea I rest my hot lens and seek refuge in the train before my knees give way.

Near the Thames

The Church of St Magnus the Martyr was, like the rest, closed when I and many other tourists passed by.  This was rather unfortunate as with many tourists it could have brought in cas...been helpful for the church and in a position to speak of the history of the church and the role it had in London in times past.  For one thing outside the front door the roadway once led on to London Bridge as was and many a foot has trod this way before.  This was an important church in the past.  Today 'Adelaide House' another money machine this time for lawyers, engulfs the surroundings making it difficult for the church to breathe.

Not a great picture but with the church door to the left as you pass through you get some idea of times past and the throng that once used this path daily.  The first stone bridge was built in 1209 (that's A.D., not a.m. by the way) and the bridge existed on this alignment until 1831.  Arguments rage over who St Magnus was as several contenders could be the one.  It is best to let them argue and look at what lies around.

The Romans built the wharf here early on and Londinum sent a Bishop to the Council of Arles in 314 and some like to think this church existed then.  It certainly did in the 1100's and was rebuilt by Christopher Wren at a cost of nearly ten thousand pounds after it was destroyed during the Great Fire.  It was an important church partly because of the position and that possibly encouraged greater spending on a rebuild. Fishermen had their shops just to the south of the church along the riverside and as such the church became the Guild church of the 'Worshipful Company of Fishmongers.'  Billingsgate Fish Market used to stand right behind the back end of the church, today two tallish buildings fill the space.  Evidence for the Roman wharf was found in 1931 close to the church and this blackened portion of timber piling is now stationed outside the church door.  This dates from the year 75.

The River Thames still carries a lot of traffic however much of it now appears to be tourist boats staffed by chaps touting for tips it seems to me.  In 1966 when employed at my first job of work I scribbled out paperwork for lorries carrying a thousand cases of whisky to London Docks headed for various parts of the world.  At that time both sides of the river before Tower Bridge would be lined with tramp steamers while cheery cockney dockers pinched as much as they could from each consignment.  Working on the docks was a poor show, each man having to be called out from the crowd of jobseekers by the foreman every morning and work was not guaranteed.  Constant strikes, sometimes these were understandable, did not encourage sympathy for the East End men.  It was in 1966 I saw the first containers being put to use and it was interesting to note that all 1000 cases of whisky reached their destination unopened, something that did not always happen otherwise.  We used Southampton, Liverpool and Glasgow docks but the British Road Services drivers disliked London most of all which tells you something.  The opening of new docks with few workers at Felixstowe and elsewhere killed such docks and now they contain expensive flats and tourist sights.  The barges today may well have a variety of uses but I know that much of London's sewage gets carted away in similar barges to landfill sites further down towards Kent.  In the past many were used to unload ships that could not get docked at the Port.

What mean you 'That's boring?'  

In itself it contains much that is boring but it does represent all those steps that once were arrayed along the Thames enabling those using the River Taxi's to cross from one side to the other.  Those little rowing boats plied their trade for centuries until in the 19th century they decided to build more bridges.  Much trouble ensued as the 'Taxi' drivers lost their income and folks walked across for nothing, there again who has ever met a happy taxi driver?  The river was crisscrossed by such taxi's while sail and steam boats and many other craft made their way up and down stream.  It is no surprise that on occasion there were accidents especially in the recurrent smog.

In the far distance squashed in amongst other buildings stands the Tower of London.  This was begun not long after William the Conquerer took over and the Keep, the 'White Tower' in the middle went up in 1078.  Since then the fortification has seen several changes but basically the tower itself stands as Willie built it.  Once it towered over London in similar fashion to his Barons wooden, then stone, castles towered over the rest of the population.  The resentment felt by the locals was palatable, especially in London a place which has never been keen on outsiders telling it what to do.  Willie and his men had a  good way of dealing with rebels, they slaughtered them, that kept them in the their place somewhat. Today the Tower appears a little squashed but no vast skyscrapers are built too close I notice. 

Had I the energy I would have wandered around to see the ancient ship stuck away permanently in the far dock.  I did see it up close about 25 years ago but I suspect the area around is now full of the cafes' and eateries that abound in tourist traps.  That tourist boat looks gey full to me, I suspect it is a tourist boat but could be a special party.  Later I learned some of those folks who row kayaks around the UK or the world were returning home and some boats were heading out to welcome them.  Row around the UK?  Are they daft?

This rather gentle Art Deco style office block is Adelaide House, the building that engulfs St Magnus. The building was one of the first to be steel framed and covered with very expensive Portland Stone and when erected became the highest office block in the City of London.   The name comes from King William the IVs wife Adelaide, this because she opened the new London Bridge in 1831.  She didn't see this building however it arrived in 1925.

On the front stands this lass holding a globe for reasons not stated.  She stands on a coat of arms from an Australian state, several line the front for reasons unknown.  If you wish to know why ask one William Reid Dick who chiselled her out and he will explain, although he may be dead by now.

What's that doing here?

Nothing.  However after wandering around London the heart cries out for greenery and plant life.

 

Friday Off!

The grumpy chauffeur put the vehicle into gear and moved off.  We were on a journey to a far away land on the edge of that place where dragons live. Twenty minutes later, after rushing up to each white line, traffic signal or bus stop the bus let me off at the correct stop, misery guts mumbling to himself as he went.  
I made my way in the warm sunshine (not a phrase found often in these pages) towards the church called St Mary with St Leonard passing as I did so one or two interesting old dwellings one of which had an interesting old builder standing there staring at the scaffolding on which he was supposed to be working.
Like almost all Essex churches this one goes back over a thousand years.  The basic structure has changed greatly since it began but a mass of Roman bricks can be found among the flint filled walls reflecting the huge Roman villa or villas that once stood here.  Such buildings abound round here and I was told that Roman items are constantly being found by farmers and others.  
It is likely that a wooden Saxon church stood here at the time the Normans arrived probably built on the space used for worship of pagan gods before conversion.  Certainly the Normans would change the landscape by erecting strong stone or flint churches to indicate their presence and that they were not merely passing through.  This has been a successful design as a huge number of such churches can be found here.  Even though much renovation occurs through the years the early work is often clear enough to see.
However being on the edge of a big city the church door was firmly shut against passing bandits.  This is a shame as few can afford to have a guard on duty all day and light fingered folks abound.  So I wandered about the large churchyard drawing stares from passing dogwalkers.  The path leads to fields where the animals are taken daily and many were seen wandering about, all on leads in the churchyard.

    
Naturally my eye looks for the white CWGC stones that stand over all war dead men.  One here actually died in 1951 so it will be interesting to know about him if that becomes possible.  Only one woman with a dog passed by almost greeting me with a smile but not quite managing this and I did manage to avoid the chap in red wandering about pointing ostentatiously at the stones and muttering things.  Moving to the other stone evaded the possibility of conversation although this may not have been in his mind.  Sad to say I am not sure what was.  He did drive away the fat pheasant and his maid I noted at the far side and they had vanished by the time I got over there.   

 While many churches possess Roman bricks I have never seen so many as here.  This was just one section and others could be seen marking the end of the original Norman building, now of course extended but leaving the Red bricks in place.  It is thought the Saxons were forced to carry these from some distance away and from this a story grew that originally the church was to be built in one place but dragons would come out at night and move the stones to where the church now sits.  This may be the work of an ancestor of a tabloid journalist who originated it of course.

The abundance of blossom and little flowers, blue and yellow that abound at the moment is brilliant. These do not always come out properly with me as the light fools my camera, it is not used to sunshine, but I love to see these flowers often growing wild by the roadsides around here.  It makes Spring a marvellous sight.  

Having wandered around I took a few pictures and once I have looked again at them you will get to see all 98.
What?...oh! 

A Day Trip

In Camolodunum again today, I travel the world you know, I discovered a church building I had passed but ignored for some reason.  This lay behind the Roman wall, note the red bricks and the construction of the wall, solidly built to ensure no more Boudica's attacked and burnt the place down again.  Amazing to see these walls, ignored by most through walking past them daily, these solid walls were erected in the first century and stand proud, if not beautifully, today.

This was the first time I had noticed St Mary's by the Wall, and naturally I first took a picture of the once elegant door.  It is likely a Saxon church once stood here, the Norman's liked to build stone churches where old wooden ones once stood, and this one dates back to the 1200's.   You can see the lack of respect for history as the lower walls are built using portions of the Roman wall!  The tower above is probably the only remaining original portion, the church was rebuilt in the 1700's and many unreadable tombstones stand there some from that date as far as I could make out.

During the English Civil War, which imperiously included invading Scotland by the Margaret Thatcher of the day, one Oliver Cromwell, the church was used for defence by the Royalist side as Colchester opposed Cromwell and the Parliamentarians.  Whether the people had a choice is not noted!  A man named as Thomson set up his gun there and directed fire on the besiegers until the many returning cannonballs brought him and the tower down.  The top of the tower has been renovated with red brick and shows in between the remaining Roman bits.

I wondered a bit about the sign above the door.  What kind of church is this that has a licence for booze?  A Catholic one looking after the priests?  An Anglican one with a thirsty vicar?  In fact it is a redundant building now used as the Colchester Arts Centre.  I didn't go in.  There may have been a chance to look around but I considered they may have an 'art' exhibition on and I would possibly express my opinion, and I don't like losing new friends...

The graveyard is a bit of a mess in truth, this was one of the better graves established in 1797 but imaginatively I forgot to check the name.  They clearly were important enough to have a block of stone and iron railings around their tomb.  Most of the others must have dated that far back, the town must have been on the up during the 1700's and wealth flowing in the right places, but the place is a sad site now.  Only one drinker was found there today and we shared a couple of words but clearly many more waste their lives here.  How sad is that?

 On the way to the bus driven by a man unsure of the braking capabilities on offer I once again was impressed by the war memorial.  This angelic creature is a magnificent example of war memorial of the time.  Totally ridiculous regarding the conflict but like many others a magnificent creation.  What soldiers thought I know not, but less was spent on wounded men's care than on this!

 

On the way home I bought two appropriate inner tubes for future use!  No fool me!  This time I spoke to someone who knows about bikes, and recognises an idiot also.  This shop ought to be nearer home I say!

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Friday Wander

Wandering about Camolodunum today I discovered the Orthodox Church of St Helen tucked away round the back streets.  Greek Orthodox do appear in many byways in the UK, one in Bayswater was a large and wealthy church with all the top people attending, this sadly is somewhat run down today.  The picture makes it look better than it is (adjusting white balance to shade does this) and I was disappointing for the people there as it must cost a bit to maintain.
I was glad of the cool rest on a muggy day and took one or two shots and sat and looked around me. As the do the place was covered with icons, something I can never comprehend.  To me the book says read the book, baptism and Lords table, anything else, no matter how long it has been in vogue, is needless.  Yet in Orthodox circles such abound.  I wanted to take a few more shots but was disturbed by some unsmiling Mediterranean patrons who arrived, mother kissing several icons, dad another, all glaring at stranger.  I attempted to exchange a few words but was not made welcome and moved elsewhere.

The church was originally built in the eighth century possibly by King Offa of Mercia (the English Midlands) who had overlordship here.  The building was erected upon the foundations of a Roman theatre, this being the actors end, the ground rising behind.  Just a few doors up there is a small unopen museum where some remains can be glimpsed as can this model.

After the Boudicca revolt, she was upset when the Roman governor slapped her around, raped her daughters and grabbed her land, she was irked enough to burn down Verulanium (St Albans) Londinium (London) and Camolodunum (Colchester) and all those within, so the Romans strengthened the walls of the town, butchered most of her people and settled down in their new theatre.  Walls around the town were added quickly, just in case.
So the church was built on the foundations of the ruin and thin red Roman bricks can be seen in the walls.  Something seen on so many churches in Essex, old Roman villas are often reused. 
The Normans rebuilt what is now known as Colchester castle, although it was never really such, and around 1079 rebuilt the church which was a bit run down.  The reformation removed all the needless stuff and the building served many purposes until once again restored during Victorian days.  The Orthodox looking for a building now rent this from the Anglican owners and this gets used regularly after some years of standing empty or being used as a store.  How can such old buildings be used this way? 
Some believe St Helen, the mother of Constantine was born in King Coel's Castle, Colchester Castle, and this may be true I know not, she was probably born in Asia minor however.  She dug deep under Constantine's original Church of the Holy Sepulchre and found pieces of the 'Holy Cross.'  I have been down the steps leading to this area and have my doubts personally.  The idea of his mum with pick and shovel digging down intrigues me however.  British connection exists with this pair however as Constantine was declared Emperor while at York while his father Constantius Chlorus was governor of Britain.
Typical Yorkies!
The East Saxons living here by the way gave us the term 'Essex' and the present Essex County badge features three Seax's, the curved sword loved by the locals at the time. Some would love having one today if you ask my opinion.

Standing outside the 'castle' today you get a real understanding of the defensive position.  High on hills on three sides once the Roman walls went up it was very strong indeed.  The Romans of course never took the place by force, the locals in Kent and Essex welcomed the advantages Rome could bring and those that didn't got chopped.  The town had many Romanised locals and ex-soldiers residing their in safety until the man upset Boudicca.   After that a more Roman approach was adopted.

The comparison between Colchester and Chelmsford intrigued me today.  Chelmsford, the County Town (now City) is boring, however it is clean for the most part and while there are a few dregs walking the streets on the whole it is quite decent.  Colchester on the other hand is at first sight dingy, crowded and features many who appear either disreputable or had great social needs.
I have never seen beggars in Chelmsford but they exist in Colchester.  There are a great number who at first sight would be happy to appear on the 'Jeremy Kyle' show, other painted hussies of unclear age look like they have walked out of 'Eastenders' after having received too much make up and clothes clearly too young and too small for their wrinkles.  The nature of the narrow Roman like streets does not help even if it lends more attractiveness to the town than you find in Chelmsford.  Here at least a wide variety of small shops exist, some prospering for a decent time, but a dreich day gives the place a dingy look.
Having said that the area on the other side of the High Street slipping steeply downhill contains many houses going back hundreds of years, or at least newer homes built in similar style, this area known as the 'Dutch Quarter' after the Fleming's and others from France and Flanders escaping Spanish or other oppression in the fifteenth century.  Much of Essex gained from these immigrants, most of whom were weavers or dealers in the wool and cloth trade.  We might benefit from those immigrants arriving today by the way.   
Strangely I prefer the variety of shops in Colchester, many of them and a good selection, but it is a bit in need of a good clean.  Chelmsford has its uses but it is boring, just a big shopping centre and little else.

On the wall of one of those houses I found this and it reminded me of those similar signs once used in days before a fire service.  The householder would insure his house against fire with one company, a sign would be placed on the wall, if a fire broke out he would call the company and men would arrive to save the house.  No sign, no firefighting!  Edinburgh I believe was the first city to introduce a proper fire service, and I am not surprised.