Ticky: fine satirical fantasy

I mentioned a while back (see Westwood) about the Vintage Classics reprints of Stella Gibbons novels, and just very much enjoyed reading the 2011 Vintage edition of her 1943 Ticky, a satirical fantasy about English military institutions.

Topsham: top view

While tidying my office, I found a CD dating from August 2004 with some rather nice photos of Topsham and the Exe I took that summer from the tower of St Margaret's Church. It was, I recall, a regular feature of Town Fayre Week to let visitors up the tower for a small fee. That arrangement's been discontinued long since, probably on safety grounds; the steps were very slippery with sand and grit crumbled off the friable Heavitree Stone breccia the tower's largely made of. But the mildly scary ascent was worth it for the view.
Click any image to enlarge.

- Ray

Devonport Column open to public

Foulston's Devonport centre, Ker Street
from Devonshire & Cornwall illustrated (1832)

A bit over two years back - John Foulston's Devonport (6th Dec 2010) - I mentioned the 1820s development of a new civic centre when the district Plymouth Dock became the independent borough of Devonport. Its central landmark structures - a "picturesque group" - were a Parthenon-inspired town hall (now Devonport Guildhall), an Egyptian-style library (now the Oddfellows Hall), the  "Hindoo style" Mount Zion Calvinist Chapel (unfortunately demolished in 1902), and a 124-foot column commemorating Devonport's rebadging.


View Larger Map - Column under wraps during renovation in 2012

Nearly 200 years on, the Grade 1 listed Column, following a three-year refurbishment, reopened to the public on Saturday, the first time there's been full access since the 1950s. Being a great fan of tower views, whether modern or cathedrals, I'm going to have to give this one a visit some time soon. I see they've been on the safe side and put a wire cage around the observation gallery at the top, but it doesn't cover the gaps in the balustrade, so there's no impediment to photography. Apparently you can see all the way to Dartmoor.

I've written a little more about the reopening at the Devon History Society site - Devonport Column reopens to public - and you can check out the Devonport Guildhall website for visitor details, a history, and a gallery of images of the column and its illuminations at the opening party (there's a full-length video of the opening event projections).

- Ray

Habitation One: guilty pleasures

This is one for Felix Grant, who commented recently,

One of my favourite guilty pleasures is reading potted reviews of one and two star rated films.

A conversation elsewhere, that touched on dystopian books and movies, brought to mind a definitely one-star SF novel I read years back, Habitation One (Frederick Dunstan, Fontana, 1983), and I found a few juicy reviews online.

"A conservative Christian allegory ... whose gratuitous cruelty is equalled only by its tedium" — Mary Gentle, Interzone
- quoted in The Ultimate Guide to Science Fiction, David Pringle, 1995

Another new name in 1983 was that of Frederick Dunstan, whose Habitation One is both extraordinary and alarming. It describes the life and death-throes of an inbred community occupying the top of a vast tower three and a half centuries after the nuclear holocaust that drove its ancestors up there. Heavy with gruesome and macabre incidents,  mutilations, impalings, cannibalism and necrophilia, the book obviously intends to alarm, in the grand old Gothic manner. More disturbing than that, this murky brew of tobacco-fug, misogyny and Christian cant was dreamed up not by the usual decrepit don or febrile cleric, but by a nineteen-year-old Birmingham schoolboy. Having now graduated in English from Brasenose College, Oxford, Dunstan doesn't intend to write any more SF: he doesn't regard it as 'a serious genre'. Thank goodness we shall be spared Habitation Two and Three. One is plenty.
- British Book News - Page 138, 1984

And there's the extended White Dwarf review by David Langford, reprinted in The Complete Critical Assembly:The Collected White Dwarf (And GM, and GMI) SF Review Columns:

The book is a wondrous cornucopia of things for young writers to avoid ... lumpish prose and wooden characters ... gratuitous nastiness ...
...
Hurled skyward and pulverized from the waist down by an immense steam-catapult, one public hero nevertheless retains consciousness throughout his flight, successfully shoots an arrow into the madman who (for reasons never all that clearly explained) is dangling from a rope high up, fields the small nuclear device with which said madman planned to destroy the entire plot, and arcs onward, nuke in hand, to glorious immolation somewhere over the edge of the world. I forgot to mention earlier on that he was tortured by having his moustache ripped off with hydraulic jacks.
...
... a cringingly sententious epilogue which ascribes the unlikely happy ending to divine intervention. I don't see why God should carry the can for the ineptitudes of F. Dunstan. A real running sore of a book, this.
- for full review, see pp 48-49, The Complete Critical Assembly, David Langford, Wildside Press LLC, 2002

Don't get the idea that Habitation One is so bad as to be amusing and worth seeking out; it isn't. I read it once, and don't intend to again. The worst part of it, for me, was not the nastiness, but its excruciating pomposity, which was echoed in author interviews with the pipe-puffing 21-going-on-middle-age Dunstan. I remember particularly loathing that he should get validation as an author via this execrable book inexplicably getting into print. But it's consolation that there's no evidence of his having written anything else that was published. Perhaps, like Grunthos the Flatulent, "his own major intestine—in a desperate attempt to save life itself—leapt straight up through his neck and throttled his brain" to save the world from further works.

There's a certain poignancy in coming across a copy of Frederick Dunstan's Habitation One, a curious post-apocalyptic novel, in Derek's Bookstall in Preston, and reading in the author biography of Dunstan's "lifelong desire to be an author" and that in 1983, when Habitation One was published, he was "at work on his second novel". No second novel ever appeared.
- Nicolas Royle, Lives & Letters, The Guardian Review, January 12, 2013

- Ray

Orthanc bought for £1

It's interesting to skim YouTube currently for oddments that didn't make it into the The Lord of the Rings film triology for editorial or timing reasons. One (above) is the death of Saruman. Motivation-wise, it sticks to the book - Saruman finally taunting his sidekick Gríma Wormtongue beyond endurance - but in the book it happened in the Scouring of Shire chapter, when Frodo and Sam return to find the Shire industrialised by Saruman.

Perrott's Folly -
GNU Free Documentation License

This ties in with newspaper reports yesterday about the sale of a Georgian folly in Birmingham - Bought for £1, the mysterious tower that inspired JRR Tolkien ("Charity needs £1m to turn Perrott's Folly, said to have inspired author, into centre for Birmingham community" - Maev Kennedy, Guardian, 29th January) and It doesn't look much like Mordor: The 100ft Midlands tower which was Tolkien's unlikely inspiration (Steve Nolan, Daily Mail, 29th January). The Mail piece has more pictures, though it gets Orthanc confused with Sauron's Dark Tower (Barad-dûr).

Both articles mention how this, and a second tower - the Italianate Edgbaston Waterworks tower (see Flickr) - were in sight of JRR Tolkien's childhood home, and they echo a general "it is said" set of anecdotes about their being the inspiration for the towers in The Lord of the Rings. Tolkien never was terribly forthcoming about his inspirations, and such identifications can be far too pat, but in this case it doesn't seem too unlikely.

The tower was built by John Perrott in 1758; the precise reason is unknown, and it was being called Perrott's Folly as early as the 1830s:

At a considerable distance to the left is seen a tall tower, commonly called the Monument. This is built of brick, is seven stories high, and was never made of any use, except in the capacity of pigeon-houses. It was erected in 1758, by John Perrott, Esq. whose name it partially bears, with an appropriate satirical adjunct—Perrott's Folly
- page 109, The Picture of Birmingham, Drake, 1831

Speculations continued thereafter:

I have heard a vague statement that our Monument, popularly known as " Perrott's Folly," was erected by a gentleman of that name, in order that his daughter might see the then frequent meets of hounds at Rotton Park, and the excitement of the chase round by Smethwick woods. So lately as sixty years ago it was not uncommon for the hounds to meet at Rotton Park, and I believe advertisements of the fact still exist in the old files of the Gazette. It is, however, more probable that the Monument was erected for a very different purpose, for in his description of Birmingham in 1818, Mr. Charles Pye speaks of it as "an observatory, lofty brick building seven stories high, which bears the name of the Monument . . . erected by John Perrott, Esq., about the year 1758". I do not remember any further account in print. The building was once let with the adjoining house (occupied in 1818 by John Guest, Esq.) but is now detached, and rises from a small plot of lawn. The door is massive oak, well studded with nails, a flight of  solid oak steps spiral fashion, in the staircase tower leads from room to room ; each room is well lighted and in good condition, with ornaments on the ceilings, and good oak fittings around. The upper room commands a very fine view on a clear day. The brickwork is (i.e.  in 1864) good and sound, and the Monument will remain for many generations yet, if left undisturbed by "improvements".
- 'ESTE', The Midland Antiquary - Volumes 3-4 - Page 42, 1884

See the Perrott's Folly website for further background; and Two Towers previously, in which I commented on various towers and on the engineering issues of Tolkien having giant towers in a tectonically active area.

- Ray

The "Salt Pot"

Base of Old Lighthouse on St Catherine's Hill
© Copyright Bob Embleton and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

I like strange and distinctive places. So further to Edward Edwards - troubled library pioneer, I just checked out online the location of Edwards' apparently self-inflicted exposure on the downs near Niton, Isle of Wight.  As described in the 1902 Greenwood biography:

The days and nights were getting cold, and he had a fire constantly in his room, which he kept so closely that there was some difficulty in getting him out of it when it had to be tidied. One day early in November, 1885, Edwards said to Mr. and Mrs. Harrison "I am going to Freshwater and may not be back for several days". Nothing was thought of this at the time, as he had often gone away on the top of one of the coaches, and remained away a few days. For some days afterwards nothing more was heard of him, till word was brought that he had been found in a perishing condition on St. Catherine's Down, and was being brought home in a cart. By-and-by the cart drew near, and in it, covered with clean straw to screen him from the curious eyes of the children on their way to school, was Edward Edwards, utterly broken down, with eyes looking wild and streaming with tears, but conscious of all that was going on around him. They lifted him out as gently as if he had been a monarch, dressed in purple and fine linen, and put him to bed at once. There he lay for a full fortnight, nursed with the tenderest care, fed and tended like a child, and during night and day his nurses had to apply all necessary remedies to restore animation to his almost frozen limbs. Edward Edwards had been found in what is known as the Round Tower on the Down. He had been out on the Down without food for three nights and days in inclement weather, and a bitterly cold winter was that of 1885-6. The Round Tower is roofless, and in it he was found, lying on the ground, by a shepherd who was taking provender for the sheep. His hands were stained with dirt, and he had manifestly gripped the earth in an agony of spirit, while crying for death to come and release him from his misery and troubles. During the night the sheep on the Down make for the Round Tower for shelter, and Edwards had been kept warm by them, as his clothes showed. They had evidently kept him warm enough to preserve his life.
- Edward Edwards, the chief pioneer of municipal public libraries, Thomas Greenwood, 1902, Internet Archive ID edwardedwardschi00greeiala

View Larger Map

This structure appears in accounts under various names - including the Salt Pot, the Salt Cellar, the Salt Shaker, and Mustard Pot - all reflecting its relationship to an adjacent structure known as the Pepperpot (St Catherine's Oratory, a mediaeval lighthouse). The Salt Pot was also intended as a lighthouse, but not completed ...

Almost adjoining stands the shell of a lighthouse erected in 1785 by the Trinity Board ; but discontinued when it was discovered, as might at the outset have been surmised, that the mists so often gathering about the crown of the hill would render it of little service.
- page 192, Lighthouses and Lightships, William Henry Davenport Adams, 1870

... and superseded by the present St Catherine's Lighthouse.

undated topographical postcard

The Salt Pot appears in old photos (e.g. above) in much the same state as when Edwards took refuge in it. But it's now enclosed and inaccessible due to the building of a radio installation inside and around it (according to Keeper's Log, journal of the United States Lighthouse Society, a radar installation dating from 1952).There are a number of Flickr images, such as this one; the photographer comments on how it "inexplicably" houses radio equipment. When there was a whole down to build on, it does seem rather strange, by modern standards of conservation, for a heritage structure to be commandeered in this way.

View looking northward from the top of Gore Cliff, May 2012
St Catherine's Oratory (aka Pepperpot), left; "Salt Pot" by mast, right

We were in viewing distance in May 2012 - see The road more travelled ... - but it was a monstrously hot day, and the detour up the hill didn't appeal. Next time maybe.

Check out also Stories descriptive of the Isle of Wight:  there's a slight thematic connection, in that one of these inspirational stories, The Children of St Catherine's Chantry, features a group of children sheltering from a storm inside St Catherine's Oratory.

- Ray

Exeter Cathedral #3

Following from Exeter Cathedral #1 and #2, here's the final section of the roof tour I went on last week.

A final section of spiral staircase leads to the top of the north tower, with its extensive views of Exeter.

N corner of Cathedral Green

NE up new Princesshay development

E end of cathedral

SE to Exe estuary

E end of cathedral

looking E

South Tower

South Tower and view across to Haldon Hills

down to W end of Cathedral Green

summit of North Tower

detail of Princesshay and new John Lewis building

The tour ended with a long descent down the North Tower to emerge at its base by the astronomical clock.

If you enjoyed these images, see also The Spire, a three-part post of my photos of the tower tour of Salisbury Cathedral.

- Ray

Exeter Cathedral #2

Following on from Exeter Cathedral #1, we now move on to the roof tour (here's a ground plan for orientation).

The tour convenes at the western end of the nave, and normally goes up to roof level through a staircase there. Due to renovations, however, we instead went up a first spiral staircase leading from the Chapel of St John the Evangelist at the eastern end of the cathedral.

This takes you up to the level of the roof of the Lady Chapel, where you can see the flying buttresses on the north side ...

... the eastern elevation of the main building ...

... and the buttresses of the southern side, where the cathedral was struck by a bomb in the Blitz on 1942.

A return eastward and down a few steps takes you to an enclosed area called the retro-quire ...

... which has a scary little window ...

... giving a view westward down the nave of the cathedral.

From the retro-quire, then it's up another spiral staircase into the nave roof level. It was a bit dark for photography, and not vastly interesting; unlike Salisbury cathedral, it's internally-divided by fire partitions to reduce the insurance premiums, so its sheer length (covering the longest uninterrupted medieval vaulted ceiling in the world) is not visible.

Anyhow, you proceed westward along this until you reach the walkway that spans the gap between the north and south towers. You go left via the roofing lead workshop into the bell-ringing room of the south tower:

The belfry itself is apparently unsafe to access, but the tour goes instead up the north tower, which houses the single tolling bell, "Peter", and its timing mechanism. You re-cross the nave roof space and go up ...

... into the north tower to watch the mechanism trip and hear the bell ...

... then on up past the level housing "Peter", where again it was too dark to photograph with my pocket camera ...

... and out to the top of the tower.

Continued to the tower-top view in Exeter Cathedral #3.

- Ray

Exeter Cathedral #1

The week before last I was in town on various errands, and decided to visit Exeter Cathedral. I've been before, but not fully explored it; and further, I decided on impulse to go on the roof tour. First: a quick preamble at ground level. Click any image to enlarge.

Exeter Cathedral - north tower

Exeter Cathedral - nave

astronomical clock and old clock mechanism

chest with complex lock mechanism

Memorial to Rachel Charlotte O'Brien

I was rather touched by this memorial. Among the many conventional and pious inscriptions on the tombs of ecclesiastical fatcats, it was refreshing to see this honest commemoration of a young mother who died saving her child.

south aisle

nave - roof vaulting

detail of vaulting with bosses

boss level - detail of roof bosses

nave looking to north aisle

Further reading:
Exeter Cathedral: official site
Exeter Cathedral: Wikipedia
Exeter Cathedral Keystones & Carvings: A Catalogue Raisonné of the Sculptures & Their Polychromy. Extensive online resource with descriptions and high-resolution images.

---

This scary cadaver tomb seemed a good excuse to repost a link to Henry Glassford Bell's 1832 anthology My Old Portfolio; or Tales and Sketches, which contains the highly pertinent story Dicky Cross, the idiot of Exeter, whose setting is Exeter Cathedral and its environs, during the reign of George III. Starting with the hoary old framing device of its being allegedly based on fact ...

"Should this volume be fortunate enough to find any readers in Exeter, they will doubtless perceive that the above story is by no means a mere fiction"

... it concerns a virtuous young woman who takes a short-cut through the cathedral at dusk, and finds she is locked in with a murderous idiot who lurks among the tombs. All ends happily.

I haven't been able to find the tomb described in the story:

There was one tomb nearly directly opposite to where Mary sat, on the other side of the chapel, well known to all the inhabitants of Exeter, by the remarkable recumbent figure which was carved upon it, and which no one ever passed without pausing to look at. The figure was that of a skeleton, very ingeniously executed, and grinning as if in silent mockery of all the vanities of life. A helmet with the vizor up, partially concealed the skull, and in the long bony hand was a broken lance. It was a vivid and painful representation of what the once powerful tenant of the sepulchre beneath then was, and of what all humanity must one day be.

Did I miss it, or is it fictional?

Continued in Exeter Cathedral #2

- Ray