The Church of All Saints, Hillington Square, King's Lynn

This little church is not much spoken of in the tourist bumpf, we hear loads about St Margaret's church and St Nicholas chapel but it was only a few months ago I came across a mention of the ancient church of All Saints, tucked away to the south of the town. Odd because it's the oldest church in town originating in the 11th century or possibly earlier. It describes itself as "a hidden pearl" and with centuries of accretions it has a certain barroco appearance. A sign informs the visitor that "the tower collapsed in 1768", I'm at a loss to know where a tower could be fitted in but that's not my problem. I visited early in the morning so it was closed but visitors are welcome if you contact before hand and I've since found it's open on Saturdays  but maybe check before you go. Anyhow I'll post an anticlockwise tour starting at the west end.

This little window/niche and statue seem to have been added since the mid 19th century as an engraving shows a sundial over the doorway.

This is the view from Church Lane, the iron gates are pretty useless since there are no walls apart from these little bits.

The two windowed annex above is (or was), I'm reliably informed an anchor-hold, a room set to the side of the church where an anchoress (think Julian of Norwich) would seal themselves in and live a life of religious contemplation there's a tiny window inside with a view of the altar. This is considered a rare feature being on the north side of the church as most were on the south (warmer) side and also most have also been lost to demolition (the reformation did away with this kind of thing). You can see it has been added to over the years and it's now obstructing the window of the church.

Another odd feature is the lack of a church wall surrounding the church yard, it is surrounded by 60-70s social housing giving a quiet, peaceful almost cloistered feeling.

Deserts of vast eternity

The cunning plan to make Hull's tenure of the title of UK City of Culture as miserable as possible seems to be working ever so well. Above is what used to be called Holy Trinity Square but no doubt due to changes in the political climate is possibly called Perfidious Albion Plaza or Mea Culpa Square or some such. Those of an age can maybe recall the neutron bomb and how it was to take away the people and leave the buildings (a wonderful device) ... Anyhow thousands were spent clearing it up, installing mirror pools, plans made for food festivals and so on and they had to go and invent a plague just out of spite. They need not have bothered I wasn't going to go anyway.

The statue of Andy Marvell still stands, though really the viral iconoclastic nonsense of pulling down statues seems to have peaked and died away here much like an English summer. I read that this MP for Hull during interesting times (civil war, regicide, restoration and what have you; OK not of interest to everybody I know...) was a master of self-preservation. I wonder what the man who wrote this:

Now let us sport us while we may,

And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power...

would make of the servile, bedwetting, safety-first, neurotic, mask devouring cowards that want to impose their fear upon us all. But then maybe he too would mask-up, rub in the alcohol gel and conform; self-preservation, dear boy, self-preservation. Gah!

A Little Light Larkin

Coming back in the gloaming from a clandestine shopping trip for strictly non-essential things (so arrest me!) I came upon a fat hedgehog crossing in front of me; first one  I'd seen in a couple of years. It can rest assured I will never be mowing the lawn, I killed the lawn instead. Anyhow here's a happy fillip for all you quarantined gardeners today ...

The Mower
    

The mower stalled, twice; kneeling, I found   

A hedgehog jammed up against the blades,   

Killed. It had been in the long grass.

I had seen it before, and even fed it, once.   

Now I had mauled its unobtrusive world   

Unmendably. Burial was no help:

Next morning I got up and it did not.

The first day after a death, the new absence   

Is always the same; we should be careful

Of each other, we should be kind   

While there is still time.
                          
                           Philip Larkin

A shaggy dog story

To cut a long and very unlikely story short: a king, Edmund by name, king of the east Angles was captured by, or surrendered to, the Danes (or Vikings if you must be crude) who then used him as target practice for their archers (think St Sebastian only worse) then chopped off his head (as was the style in those days and those days were the mid 850s, crazy times ...) and threw it away after playing a game of football with it, of course. Edmund's lot found the body but not the head. Later they heard a wolf calling to them; wolfy had the head between his paws ... hence this howling wolf on Hunstanton cliff top. Why Hunstanton? because Edmond, as young boy, is supposed to have landed here or was shipwrecked here or ... any way Edmund woz here OK! And he built this chapel that is now a repaired ruin ... or at the very least this chapel was named after him, St Edmund's-on-the-cliff. Anyway this Edmund is known as King Edmund the Martyr and is interred in Bury St Edmunds though Bury there means burgh not inter ... and not at all to be confused with King Edmund the First who never met a Dane he didn't like.

Howl, howl, howl, howl!

Some shaggy dogs came to pose.

The neatly repaired chapel doorway has provided a frame for generations of photographers; folk were queuing up behind me to take their snaps. I'll post the lighthouse tomorrow.

I got this off the net I think it dates to 1895 but don't quote me on that.

Henry L'Estrange Styleman Le Strange

We took ourselves out on a trip to the coast on a road we had not traveled on for thirty five years. The road had been straightened and did not pass through Onion Corner or down Cat's Bottom; places which put the fear of an early demise on the unwary driver. Still the road passes rich sounding places such as Snettisham, Heacham, Wolferton and (my favourite) Ingoldisthorpe; we could have dropped in on Queenie at Sandringham but thought better. Our destination for the afternoon was the delightful seaside resort of Hunstanton; yes, we were going to sunny Hunny. I'll say it now because everyone always says this about Hunstanton: it is the only resort on the east coast where you can watch the sun go down over the sea; there that's that out of the way and we can move on. Hunstanton is on the Wash, that bit of the coast where the North Sea has taken a fifteen mile wide bite out of the land, you can see Lincolnshire on the horizon should you want.

Hunstanton had been a small fishing village until our hero, Henry L'Estrange Styleman Le Strange (we'll call him Henry shall we?), Henry had the idea of building a seaside town, New Hunstanton, connected to the world by a railway to King's Lynn. It was an immense success, the railway being the most profitable in the country. Henry fancied himself as an artist and drew up designs for lots of buildings including the Town Hall which you see above. There's a hotel next door which I somehow did not photograph in similar honey coloured stone so you'll have to take my word for how nice it looks.

The statue in front of the town hall was unveiled in 2017, cost a mere £40,000 and is, no doubt, the pride of the town, there's more here (I'm not that bothered).

There's more to Hunstanton than just this man and his town hall but as today's theme for the first of the month is "municipal buildings" this will do for now. 

Thanks are owed to Olly and her friend, Smut (or Ann), for transport and pleasant company on this trip.

Bank House, King's Lynn

Here's a thing you don't see that often: a statue of King Charles I, he who picked a quarrel with Parliament and lost not just the quarrel but his head as well . Here he stands on top of Bank House on King's Staithe Square (a nasty symbol of royalist oppression and tyranny). The building was once a bank (hence the name, clever eh?) and is now a restaurant. Charles is dressed in armour and looking a bit of a pillock. Couple this with the statue of Charles fils (proud symbol of the blessed restoration) on the nearby Customs House with his louche gowns and a wig that could house a small family and King's Lynn has a right pair of proper Charleys to be proud of.

The building dates from early 1780's and was the home of Gurney's Bank which went on by stages to become Barclay's Bank which you might have heard of. I'm guessing it's a listed building of some sort but sloth prevent me checking...

Frederick Savage

One thing that I did not see at the Mart was a roundabout with horses, folk are more interested in being put at the end of a vertical centrifuge and spun up above the chiminey tops than going round and round and up and down on wooden horses accompanied by steam powered organ music. 

Times and fashions change but once upon time steam powered galloping horses, invented by this guy, Frederick Savage, were all the rage. I read that showmen could make close on a hundred pounds a day from penny rides on one of these machines; that's old pennies, 240 to the pound. He sold his contraptions around the world spreading dizzy fun while making a small fortune.

Frederick Savage became mayor of Lynn three times (a veritable Dick Whittington) and died in 1897. This statue was erected in 1892 paid for by showmen and the people of Lynn. He was clearly much liked as a banquet was held in his honour.

After his death the works nearly went under and were only saved by being bought up by local firms. Steam engines were not the way of the future, at least not for farm work or fair grounds. The last Savage roundabout I saw was at Hull Fair several years ago, I don't think any are left in active service, they are all museum pieces. The factory in Lynn where Savage made his machines is now a tame arcade of shops. 

This statue has him in mayoral ceremonial garb giving a priestly benefaction to all who pass. It stands, as it always has done, on London Road close to the South Gate.

By way of postscript; while going through the papers of Margot's late mother I found that her house, off Loke Road a stone's throw from the old Savage works, was built on land sold off by Mr Savage's widow in 1898. 

Mr Wilberforce's Figs

"Mr Wilberforce is far from being a hypocrite, but he is we think, as fine as specimen of moral equivocation as can well be conceived"

                                                            William Hazlitt

Mr Wilberforce is celebrated in these parts by those who get some solace (and income no doubt) in spreading the word that, gosh and golly! the guy who "stopped the slave trade" came from these parts. You see it regularly used almost as a weapon, to defend, as if it needed it, the town of Hull from those who think it not the very heaven upon earth. So we get guff like this: "he devoted his life’s work to leading the abolition of slavery in the UK." a recent example from Twitter ( there was, of course no slavery in the UK, and the young excited student just displays ignorance in exuberance; a common trait these days ) ... that He, the sainted one, was born here though that ... that must MEAN something, mustn't it?

Folk who really should know better make pilgrimage to the palatial (for Hull) house on High Street. A whole industry has sprung up just because wee Willy (he weighed under 100lbs) was born to parents from Kingstown upon the good old river Hull. It is acceptable, indeed folk are intensely relaxed these days, to point out  that WW was filthy rich, so rich he bought  the Parliamentary seat of Kingston upon Hull, that was just the style in those times in England, the Mother of Parliaments. Having bought the one seat it was no trouble to buy the seat for Yorkshire some time later. Pecunia non olet ... He always claimed to be an independent member of Parliament but whenever Mr Pitt whistled his rich puppy Wilberforce came running adoringly to vote for some of the most oppressive legislation and abuse of human rights this country has ever seen and that is saying something. The Anglican Wilberforce, I won't call him a Christian that would insult too many decent people, the Anglican W. considered saving the souls of African slaves far above saving the lives of poor English working folk, they could have habeus corpus suspended, the right to association denied, the right to meet in gatherings of more than fifty denied, they could be chopped down by the yeomanry in Manchester, they could be transported to Tasmania for trade union activity, they could be tried and sentenced to death for seditious libel just for distributing pamphlets that they could not even read,  their children could be denied education and put to work by their equally uneducated parents. Mr W. would whine against the war with France but vote for all the supply measures and the burdensome, impoverishing taxation that was imposed on the English poor so as to kill the French poor; "Oh, In old England very hard times ..." As Hazlitt put it witheringly: "Mr. Wilberforce's humanity will go all lengths that it can with safety and discretion: but it is not to be supposed that it should lose him his seat for Yorkshire, the smile of Majesty, or the countenance of the loyal and pious. He is anxious to do all the good he can without hurting himself or his fair fame."
All this, though, is so much mud in the Humber for the Wilberforce fan club. The cant of the Clapham Sect was born here, on this street, this is his fig tree and these are his clay feet on a marble statue made fifty years after he died, he was here and that must surely MEAN that here is IMPORTANT and by extension Hull MEANS something and our lives in this small town in Yorkshire on the elbow of the Humber are just so much the better because of that ever elusive something ...

"Hemos pasado"

Everybody knows the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost

                                                 L. Cohen

Close by yesterday's statue of Mankind Under Threat stands this new memorial to those few (very few indeed) who took it upon themselves to go off from Hull to Spain with the International Brigade while that country was tearing itself apart in a bloody civil war. I suppose they thought they were helping in some way, it's difficult to see how.  The slogan on the top is that old cliché of the Left (and other lost causes) "They shall not pass". The plain truth is not only did the buggers pass they hung around for nigh on forty years ...
I'm not sure that this memorial with its Communist era references (I'm seeing a star, a bulging Stakhanovite arm, a hint of a sickle, it could just be me) is really apt given the well documented bloody betrayals and murders of socialists and anarchists by Stalin's Soviets. The plinth with "Freedom" and "Democracy" inscribed  is, unfortunately,  so white as to be illegible in bright sunlight so the names of the few (Was it eight or nine? Who knows? Who at this distance cares much?) who went off to fight Franco cannot be discerned nor can the little etched scenes. Still there's long been a plaque in the Guildhall with the names of those involved should you have any interest ... and now I'm set to wondering did any go off to fight for Franco? And where is their memorial?

 

Under Threat

 

Ah so there's our old friend Mankind Under Threat squatting in the belated May sunshine all safe and sound now betwixt the City Treasury and the Guildhall. I wondered where he'd gone to. I suppose, technically, he's on public display but so far off any beaten track no visitor to Hull would come across him by accident. Unlike the old place in Queen's Gardens this site is hardly conducive to the contemplation of mankind being under threat. The threat to our friend here is clear: pointlessness and obscurity. He has already become a mere decoration. There are plans to secure this area with gates (the slim to non-existent terrorist threat to Councillors and council staff must be taken seriously ... and a quarter million pounds is the serious money that must be spent to take it seriously). Anyhow once the gates are built our caged friend will be even more secure and even more out of reach.

The Larkin Spectacle

... and speaking of old Pip Larkin, as we were, his statue in Paragon Station has caught the attention of those who would reshape the world they see before them. Maybe he should have gone to Specsavers ...

Knife Angel

Freshly arrived in town today, the Knife Angel or National Monument Against Violence and Aggression, made from thousands of knives surrendered to police forces across the country (“Save a Life, Surrender Your Knife” ) , is a memorial to those whose lives have been affected by knife crime.

The statue will be in Hull for a few weeks before going off on its Round Britain journey. There's a lot about how it was made and so on here.

 

The Corn Exchange

The corn exchange, on Tuesday Market Place, was built in in 1854 with a fine baroque style façade featuring the town's  crest (below) and topped off with a statue of Ceres or Demeter with a sickle and a bundle of corn (below, below). As I was on an very short stay I had no time to go inside and see the transformation into theatre/cinema community arty place along with compulsory coffee shop.

The crest of King's Lynn features three dragons regurgitating a cross. This is an allusion to the story of the town's patron saint, St Margaret of Antioch, who, as was the custom in those days, was swallowed by a dragon but as she was so holy she was indigestible (holy types often are I find) and so was chucked up to use the vernacular. Atop all this nonsense stands a pelican in her piety. This crest appears all over the town in various guises.

The Victorians, in their pursuit of profit in the exchange, seem to have had no qualms about mixing Christian symbolism with pagan idolatry so why should we?

Good King John

OK so King John lost the Duchy of Normandy and other bits of France to the French king, and he caused the decline and fall of the Angevin Empire. He was so weak the mighty barons forced him into signing that wretched Magna Carta. Then he went and lost his treasure while crossing the marshes just before dying of dysentery leaving the country in a civil war. And in all children's history books and especially in that ongoing saga Robin Hood he is made out to be a bad guy scheming to get the crown while his handsome, brave, do-no-wrong brother Richard (he of the Lionheart) ponced around on crusades and caused mayhem where ever he sat down. Well all that counts for nothing in King's Lynn. King John is the king who granted the town a charter in 1204 which was the making of the place. And in Lynn, if in no other town in England, King John is very much the Good Guy.

This statue is in New Conduit Street.

And, as a footnote, if you are thinking King's Lynn is named after King John then think again. The charter was given to the town of Bishop's Lynn as in those days the Bishop of Norwich owned the place. If Henry VIII had managed to sire a male heir from his first wife the place might still be called Bishop's Lynn. But in the event he didn't and in his nationalisation of the Catholic church he took possession of the town and so it became King's Lynn in 1537.

Space and Entity

I meant to post these last year but obviously didn't. They're part of that exhibition at the University which I've shown bits of before (1 2 3 ). The one above is entitled Space and not as I thought Halitosis, the lower one goes by the name of Entity and Margot is responsible for that photo. I had thought this exhibition would be over by now as the bumpf on it says it lasts until 31 march 2017 but I guess they got the year wrong and haven't noticed.
I have a couple more of these things and will dig them out and post them soonish meanwhile you will no doubt be pondering on how well they stimulate "thought and refection about the historic connection between Iceland and Hull"....

The Tower

I've shown this former cinema before but so long ago that a revisit is almost obligatory. The place has had many uses it is now a night club called Funktion. The domes I've learned (and should have remembered but you know how the memory fades with age) are replacements after the originals were removed illegally in 2003ish. I like this place; its designers seemed to have taken as many architectural ornaments as they could carry and stuck them together in a pleasing fashion.

I've read that it is equally flash inside. You want a sneeky peek inside? Try this from when the place was closed a few years ago.

More Bull

I've shown this place before a long while back so I thought it would be an idea to show some more details. This is the Bull on Beverley Road, built in 1903 ( and not Victorian as I thought ) in the renaissance revival style. The bull statue is thought to come from an older building on this site, there's been a Bull inn or Bull hotel here for quite some time.

Margot took this.

The weekend in Black and White is here.

Stop traveller whoever thou art ...

... and look upon him now dead who when alive it were better for thee to imitate Thomas Whincop an unparalleled example of divers sorts of science sound judgement probity of life indefatigable industry charity humanity and piety. A choice servant of God a most dearly beloved divine and one who worthily merited the love and remembrance of all good men who after he had served the most high above the space of seventy four years diligently executing the offices of an honest man a prudent citizen and a vigilant pastor at last full of years and honour he resigned his soul to God waiting for the resurrection of the body who though now dead yet liveth. All that remains. Go reader! as God's glory is now his reward so his example thine. 

That's what the little plaque says, only it says it in Latin ¹. There's more in English about his days at Cambridge, his wives, his sons and their wives and his daughters and their husbands (and so on ad infinitum) but that only spoils the effect of this fine encomium.

This is the memorial to Rev. Thomas Whincop, a former master of the Hull Charter House, in Holy Trinity church. Old Whincop died in 1624 and did nothing that need concern us in these glorious days. I post this because I liked the little skulls and also it bears a more than passing resemblance to Shakespeare's memorial in Stratford which dates from around the same time.



¹ Quisquis es viator siste atque hunc intuere mortuum quem vivum satius tibi initari erit scientioc multiplicis profundi judicii vitae probitatis industriae indefessoe charitatis comitatis pietatis exemplar singulare Thomam Whincop eximium Dei servum charissimum theologum omnium bonorum memoria et amore dignum Qui opto maxo plusquam 74 annos servivit integerrimi viri sapientisfimi civis vigilantissimi pastoris officii fatagens annorum tandem samoe gratoe satur deo animum reddidit corporisque resurrettionem procstolatur atque etiamnum mortuus vivit Tantum est vade lettor sua mercesest creatoris gloria paradegma tuum.

Billy's Old Nag

At the risk of being trampled under hoof I bring you this unusual angle on the King William statue in Market Place. The poor old thing looks in need of another coat of gold leaf.

... and Billy makes three

Between the listed loos and the listed tidal flood barrier stands the newly listed statue of William de-la-Pole, Hull’s first mayor. Quite why there should suddenly be found three structures of listed quality in such a short stretch is a bit of a mystery (at least to me). Perhaps the excellent hospitality of the Minerva Pub at the far end of Nelson Street may have enhanced the adjudicators opinions ...