(no subject)
Oct. 18th, 2008 09:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_elyanNOTE - this will involve more restrained squeeing about Lincoln - if you are already fed up to the back teeth of me doing that, please look away NOW
A long day, much of it spent travelling, but worthwhile.
As some readers will have gathered, I go to Lincoln a couple of times a year, because it is one of my favourite cities, and its cathedral a work of dizzying wonder. A major downside, however, is that in order to get a decent day out there, I really need to be on the 7:44 out of Ely, to catch the 8:40 from Peterborough, on a line so slow and pottering that they run single-carriage trains on it, and it takes an hour and 25 minutes to do about 45 miles. It's not even a particularly pretty run - those who bought Noel Coward's line about Norfolk being flat should see much of Lincolnshire... It's almost worth it, though, just for the view as you take the final stretch into Lincoln Central, and the cathedral soars above the town, as if suspended on angels wings. It's hard to explain just how completely the cathedral dominates the town - the only equivalents I can think of are Durham, and my own home city of Ely, but neither have quite the drama of Lincoln. This picture gives you some idea, but you really have to see it for yourself.
I spent most of the journey up arguing with myself as to whether to go to Louth or not. I had always intended to, but time never quite worked out, especially as it's another hour on the bus. The question of "why the hell would anyone want to go to Louth?" is a fair one, of course, and raised immediately by my friend Matt (who is a native) when I mentioned I was visiting. Well, it has a reputation as a fine old market town, with (natch) a splendid church, and the journey across the Wolds looked rather pleasant. On the other hand, it would cut seriously into the time I could spend in Lincoln if I was going to get home at a sensible hour (I had got up at 6:45, after all), and would be a hefty bus fare on top of the £18 I had already spent getting to Lincoln. After arguing the toss with myself through Spalding and Sleaford and all points north, I finally gave up, and flipped a coin for it. It came up heads, so I was off to Louth.
Between arrival of train and departure of bus, I had an hour to kill. Going to the cathedral area was out of the question, for reasons which I will get to (but you could possibly figure out from the picture), so I had a brief poke around the main shopping part of the city, usually referred to as Downhill (another subtle clue there). This is rather like any other town centre, and can get a bit loud and in-yer-face. Nonetheless, there are some worthwhile things to be found - in particular the Empowerment sculpture of angels over the river, and the Stonebow (incidentally, while Lincoln may be something of a backwater, that photo doesn't show up-to-the-minute fashion for the discerning resident...). I wandered round, bought a couple of books (obviously), then headed for the concrete monstrosity of a bus station (as if there were any other kind), and the bus into the wilds.
The run to Louth, through many villages and one just-about-town (Wragby), was pretty, if hardly stunning. The northern part of Lincolnshire - the Wolds - is more like high moorland, and some of the views from the top deck of the bus were most pleasing, especially when chugging along very minor roads. I saw my favourite village name for a while - the ever-so-slightly-lavender Gayton-le-Wold (it's the "le" that makes it, I think). Then a flash of stone in the distance, and we were into Louth.
Wherevr you are in Louth, you can see this - one of the finest spires in the country, and a tall one, at 295 feet. It is a real work of genius - everything is in its right place, the design is graceful and varied, and it draws the eye up to the heavens in a way which the towers of Norfolk don't manage in the same way. The rest of the church can't quite compete, but is pleasant enough, and was where the Lincolnshire Uprising began, leading (indirectly) to the founding of Jamestown in Virginia. I climbed what I could of the spire, 198 steps up to the battlement level, from which the views were predictably stunning. Just to prove that Louth isn't as insular as you might think, the only person I met up there was visiting from Canberra, Australia. Possibly this proves the insatiable Antipodean wanderlust, but either way it was a fine place to be.
The rest of the town was attractive too. It lacks the richness of Ludlow, or the setting of Rye, but it's still a pretty place, with lots of Georgian houses. It is very cut-off, however - toward the outside of the windswept east of Lincs, halfway between Grimsby and Skegness (a combination to conjure with), it does feel a lonely place, but a reasonably well-tended one. It had the mark of a very old town, in that half the street-names ended in -gate (Gospelgate was a particular favourite), though one which didn't was the somewhat unpleasant-sounding Breakneck Lane. Two and a half hours was probably enough for a decent visit, but I'm glad I went, as it's another place I was curious about now ticked off, and worth the effort to visit it.
I got back into Lincoln at about half three, and cheated slightly by getting off the bus at the top of the hill, by the Cathedral. Since there is a part of the town called Downhill, it follows that there must also be one called Uphill. A clue as to the extent of the discrepancy can be gained from the fact that the road between them is called Steep Hill. They mean it, too - a photo is unlikely to give you much of an idea of the scale, but try this one, taken from the Norman House (built c1170), anyway. I haven't found another street in the UK with the same punishing gradient, though I'm told there's one in Shaftesbury on the same scale. At the top of it, just as most people are promising their souls in exchange for somewhere to relax, is the best-positioned bookshop in the UK, the aptly-named Reader's Rest.
As I intimated at the top of this screed, I am aware I rattle on about how you should go to Lincoln, and everyone thinks "ho hum, yes, very pretty, but still too far away", and goes back to their knitting/reading/blowing up pixellated small furry things. Well, that's your choice, but it really is a stunning place, especially the Cathedral. The West Front alone is worth the trip. As regular readers will know, I've seen a church or six in my time, including nearly all the Medieval cathedrals of England, as well as St Peter's, St Mark's, and the Florence Duomo ... and Lincoln Cathedral is still my favourite of the lot. Wells comes close, but for sheer jaw-dropping grandeur, Lincoln takes the palm. The interior is the richest source of stone-carving I've ever seen, especially the wonderful, grotesque-popping pulpitum, and the famous Lincoln Imp. They even had a brand new carved dragon available to look at. Then, in other materials, there's the Forest Stations, the Bishop's Eye, the Dean's Eye... Sorry, I'm getting carried away. It's just one of the great buildings of the world. and everyone should see it at least once.
Apart from time in the Cathedral, I also had a wander along Bailgate, which is the main shopping street Uphill, and is crammed with delicatessens, art shops, and even a rather good (if ludicrously pricey) whisky shop (I didn't buy anything - the one thing they had been carrying which I fancied had gone since I was last in there). At the far end of Bailgate is the Newport Arch, one of only two surviving Roman arches in the UK ... for as if the Cathedral and Castle weren't enough heritage, Lincoln was also a major Roman town (Lindum), and Roman remains have been found all over the city. The Jew's House on the Strait is one of the oldest continuously used dwelling-houses in the country (built c1150), and behind their slightly more modern frontages, many of the shops have interiors six or seven hundred years old. Frankly, anyone with a serious interest in English history or architecture who hasn't been to Lincoln should get themselves there as soon as possible.
Of course, having arrived back in the city late in the afternoon, and spent an hour in the cathedral, most of the shops were closed by the time I got to them - indeed, I think it may be the first time I've ever been to Lincoln and not bought a book from Reader's Rest - but it was pleasant to walk about in the late afternoon sun. The pleasure diminished once I got back Downhill, and found the centre of town warming up for another Saturday night of drinking and smashing things up - oddly enough, because of the angle that the High Street runs at, and the narrowing effect of the Stonebow halfway down, Lincoln city centre seen from the descent from Uphill always looks packed, even when it isn't. I could have lingered to see the place lit up for the evening, but felt that the threat of getting my head kicked in and/or thrown into the river (not for nothing was the High Bridge once known as the Murder Hole) was not to be dismissed lightly.
The trip back was plagued by minor delays and endless drinkers and pre-drinkers, but I made all my connections (just), and was back home by 8ish, after another day out in another of the places that makes life in this country the fascinating thing it is.
A long day, much of it spent travelling, but worthwhile.
As some readers will have gathered, I go to Lincoln a couple of times a year, because it is one of my favourite cities, and its cathedral a work of dizzying wonder. A major downside, however, is that in order to get a decent day out there, I really need to be on the 7:44 out of Ely, to catch the 8:40 from Peterborough, on a line so slow and pottering that they run single-carriage trains on it, and it takes an hour and 25 minutes to do about 45 miles. It's not even a particularly pretty run - those who bought Noel Coward's line about Norfolk being flat should see much of Lincolnshire... It's almost worth it, though, just for the view as you take the final stretch into Lincoln Central, and the cathedral soars above the town, as if suspended on angels wings. It's hard to explain just how completely the cathedral dominates the town - the only equivalents I can think of are Durham, and my own home city of Ely, but neither have quite the drama of Lincoln. This picture gives you some idea, but you really have to see it for yourself.
I spent most of the journey up arguing with myself as to whether to go to Louth or not. I had always intended to, but time never quite worked out, especially as it's another hour on the bus. The question of "why the hell would anyone want to go to Louth?" is a fair one, of course, and raised immediately by my friend Matt (who is a native) when I mentioned I was visiting. Well, it has a reputation as a fine old market town, with (natch) a splendid church, and the journey across the Wolds looked rather pleasant. On the other hand, it would cut seriously into the time I could spend in Lincoln if I was going to get home at a sensible hour (I had got up at 6:45, after all), and would be a hefty bus fare on top of the £18 I had already spent getting to Lincoln. After arguing the toss with myself through Spalding and Sleaford and all points north, I finally gave up, and flipped a coin for it. It came up heads, so I was off to Louth.
Between arrival of train and departure of bus, I had an hour to kill. Going to the cathedral area was out of the question, for reasons which I will get to (but you could possibly figure out from the picture), so I had a brief poke around the main shopping part of the city, usually referred to as Downhill (another subtle clue there). This is rather like any other town centre, and can get a bit loud and in-yer-face. Nonetheless, there are some worthwhile things to be found - in particular the Empowerment sculpture of angels over the river, and the Stonebow (incidentally, while Lincoln may be something of a backwater, that photo doesn't show up-to-the-minute fashion for the discerning resident...). I wandered round, bought a couple of books (obviously), then headed for the concrete monstrosity of a bus station (as if there were any other kind), and the bus into the wilds.
The run to Louth, through many villages and one just-about-town (Wragby), was pretty, if hardly stunning. The northern part of Lincolnshire - the Wolds - is more like high moorland, and some of the views from the top deck of the bus were most pleasing, especially when chugging along very minor roads. I saw my favourite village name for a while - the ever-so-slightly-lavender Gayton-le-Wold (it's the "le" that makes it, I think). Then a flash of stone in the distance, and we were into Louth.
Wherevr you are in Louth, you can see this - one of the finest spires in the country, and a tall one, at 295 feet. It is a real work of genius - everything is in its right place, the design is graceful and varied, and it draws the eye up to the heavens in a way which the towers of Norfolk don't manage in the same way. The rest of the church can't quite compete, but is pleasant enough, and was where the Lincolnshire Uprising began, leading (indirectly) to the founding of Jamestown in Virginia. I climbed what I could of the spire, 198 steps up to the battlement level, from which the views were predictably stunning. Just to prove that Louth isn't as insular as you might think, the only person I met up there was visiting from Canberra, Australia. Possibly this proves the insatiable Antipodean wanderlust, but either way it was a fine place to be.
The rest of the town was attractive too. It lacks the richness of Ludlow, or the setting of Rye, but it's still a pretty place, with lots of Georgian houses. It is very cut-off, however - toward the outside of the windswept east of Lincs, halfway between Grimsby and Skegness (a combination to conjure with), it does feel a lonely place, but a reasonably well-tended one. It had the mark of a very old town, in that half the street-names ended in -gate (Gospelgate was a particular favourite), though one which didn't was the somewhat unpleasant-sounding Breakneck Lane. Two and a half hours was probably enough for a decent visit, but I'm glad I went, as it's another place I was curious about now ticked off, and worth the effort to visit it.
I got back into Lincoln at about half three, and cheated slightly by getting off the bus at the top of the hill, by the Cathedral. Since there is a part of the town called Downhill, it follows that there must also be one called Uphill. A clue as to the extent of the discrepancy can be gained from the fact that the road between them is called Steep Hill. They mean it, too - a photo is unlikely to give you much of an idea of the scale, but try this one, taken from the Norman House (built c1170), anyway. I haven't found another street in the UK with the same punishing gradient, though I'm told there's one in Shaftesbury on the same scale. At the top of it, just as most people are promising their souls in exchange for somewhere to relax, is the best-positioned bookshop in the UK, the aptly-named Reader's Rest.
As I intimated at the top of this screed, I am aware I rattle on about how you should go to Lincoln, and everyone thinks "ho hum, yes, very pretty, but still too far away", and goes back to their knitting/reading/blowing up pixellated small furry things. Well, that's your choice, but it really is a stunning place, especially the Cathedral. The West Front alone is worth the trip. As regular readers will know, I've seen a church or six in my time, including nearly all the Medieval cathedrals of England, as well as St Peter's, St Mark's, and the Florence Duomo ... and Lincoln Cathedral is still my favourite of the lot. Wells comes close, but for sheer jaw-dropping grandeur, Lincoln takes the palm. The interior is the richest source of stone-carving I've ever seen, especially the wonderful, grotesque-popping pulpitum, and the famous Lincoln Imp. They even had a brand new carved dragon available to look at. Then, in other materials, there's the Forest Stations, the Bishop's Eye, the Dean's Eye... Sorry, I'm getting carried away. It's just one of the great buildings of the world. and everyone should see it at least once.
Apart from time in the Cathedral, I also had a wander along Bailgate, which is the main shopping street Uphill, and is crammed with delicatessens, art shops, and even a rather good (if ludicrously pricey) whisky shop (I didn't buy anything - the one thing they had been carrying which I fancied had gone since I was last in there). At the far end of Bailgate is the Newport Arch, one of only two surviving Roman arches in the UK ... for as if the Cathedral and Castle weren't enough heritage, Lincoln was also a major Roman town (Lindum), and Roman remains have been found all over the city. The Jew's House on the Strait is one of the oldest continuously used dwelling-houses in the country (built c1150), and behind their slightly more modern frontages, many of the shops have interiors six or seven hundred years old. Frankly, anyone with a serious interest in English history or architecture who hasn't been to Lincoln should get themselves there as soon as possible.
Of course, having arrived back in the city late in the afternoon, and spent an hour in the cathedral, most of the shops were closed by the time I got to them - indeed, I think it may be the first time I've ever been to Lincoln and not bought a book from Reader's Rest - but it was pleasant to walk about in the late afternoon sun. The pleasure diminished once I got back Downhill, and found the centre of town warming up for another Saturday night of drinking and smashing things up - oddly enough, because of the angle that the High Street runs at, and the narrowing effect of the Stonebow halfway down, Lincoln city centre seen from the descent from Uphill always looks packed, even when it isn't. I could have lingered to see the place lit up for the evening, but felt that the threat of getting my head kicked in and/or thrown into the river (not for nothing was the High Bridge once known as the Murder Hole) was not to be dismissed lightly.
The trip back was plagued by minor delays and endless drinkers and pre-drinkers, but I made all my connections (just), and was back home by 8ish, after another day out in another of the places that makes life in this country the fascinating thing it is.
