Pumps part 1

The village pump was once the focal point of community life, not only providing the main source of clean water, but also a place to gather and exchange news.  Today, it is difficult to imagine what it must have been like to have no instant access to clean running water, but I know that the single biggest irritation when we camp (which I love to do) is having to collect and carry water. It makes me appreciate the ease of turning on a tap - especially for hot water at washing up time!

Most village pumps were cast iron and all companies had their individual markings for identification, though weathering often renders them unreadable. I think that the shape and arrangement of the lettering of the Hanbury pump are consistent with the stamp of the makers Appleby and Co., who were an ironworks in Renishaw near Chesterfield, Derbyshire, between 1793 and 1999. (To see if you agree, follow the link to this website http://www.villagepumps.org.uk/manufs.htm )

Lych gate

Many traditional church buildings in England are approached through a lych gate. This is true of St Werburgh, Hanbury.

Typically, a lych gate consists of a shed-like roof, covered with tiles or thatch and supported by four or six wooden pillars, with or without additional embellishments or decorative features. There is also, not surprisingly, a gate!

There are, however other styles of lych gate. In some parts of the country, lych gates are more commonly constructed from stone and St Keverne's church in Cornwall even has a chapel of rest built above its lych gate.

The word lych originates in Saxon English and has survived through to modern day usage. The Saxon word lych meant corpse and the purpose of the lych gate was as a resting place for a body in transit to a funeral service. In the middle ages, bodies were commnly buried in shrouds, rather than coffins, and sometimes had to be carried over distances to reach the church. The shrouded body would be laid on a bier under the lych gate while the funeral procession awaited the priest. Often the first part of the buriel service would then be read under the shelter of the gate, before the cortege continued into the church.

The oldest lych gate in England is believed to be at St George's churchyard in Beckenham, South London, and dates from the 13th century. It is likely that lych gates date back long beyond this but, being wooden structures, no older ones have survived to the present day. Most current examples date from the 15th onwards, including some new ones built to commemorate the Millennium.

I've never before stopped to think about the origins of the lych gate, but I think I find this slightly creepy. Without wanting to be irreverant, it strikes me as being a bit like a bus stop for bodies.

St Werburgh

A few weeks ago, I blogged about the Fauld Explosion

http://h-little-sealed-packages.blogspot.com/2010/03/strictly-no-admittance.html . The site of that explosion was outside the village of Hanbury, just over the border from Derbyshire into Staffordshire.

Hanbury is a small village about 7 miles from the town of Burton on Trent. The village church is named after St Werburgh, a Saxon princess who, in 1680, became abbess of the nunnery founded here by her brother Ethelred, King of Mercia. Werburgh died in 706 AD and was buried in the village; as a result of which, the church became a place of pilgrimage. Unfortunately, in the early 900s, when the Vikings became a threat, her remains were moved out of the village to Chester.

The church itself was largely rebuilt in the 14th century, had clerestories added in the 15th century and then the tower and south aisle were rebuilt in 1842. 

For those who, like me, haven't the foggiest what a clerestory is:

clere·sto·ry also clear·sto·ry (klîrstôr, -str)

1. The upper part of the nave, transepts, and choir of a church, containing windows.
(Free Online Dictionary)

...and now I know what they are, I can spot them quite easily in the photo.

The outside of the church is certainly impressive and I would have liked the chance to look around inside, but the memory which will stick with me most, is from walking towards the small graveyard at the rear. To the front, the church is quite enclosed, with a lane running by and cottages alongside, so as we walked round the side of the building, the view took me completely by surprise. The village is elevated, overlooking the Dove valley, and the church is perfectly placed to take advantage of that. It wasn't clear enough to make a good photograph, but we could see for miles.

Strictly no admittance

At a first viewing, this looks like a fairly ordinary, if somewhat neglected, patch of countryside. If, however, I tell you that this whole area is fenced off and surrounded with notices like these...

 

...you may begin to feel slightly more intrigued.

The crater is not a natural occurance, but the result of the largest explosion to happen in this country during either of the world wars.

This area, just outside the village of Hanbury, Staffordshire, was once riddled with gypsum  mines. By the time of the first rumblings of  WW2, the mines had ceased to be productive and so, in 1937, 450,000 sq ft of land was purchased by the Air Ministry for use as a storage facility for bombs; known as RAF Fauld. The bombs were stocked in 90' deep bunkers with concreted corridors 12' high x 20' wide, which had space for trucks. The air was breathable and the temperature was a constant 55 degrees Farenheit.

At 11:11a.m. on November 27th 1944, the whole facility blew up. Why, is unclear! People have theories as to the cause, but it was officially recorded as an accident.

Almost 4,000 tons of bombs exploded, blasting out a crater 100 feet deep and 1/2 a mile across. A mushroom cloud of debris was formed, which stretched about 50 yards wide and included rocks up to a ton in weight, adding to the already considerable amount of damage to buildings in the area. The local pub had to be rebuilt while a nearby farm (complete with buildings, livestock and 6 occupants) disappeared totally.

The sound of the blast was heard as far south as Daventry, 19 miles south of Coventry and the shock waves were recorded by seismographs as far away as Casablanca. Afterwards, the ground was coated with a layer of dust up to 4" thick.

 In total, 70 people lost their lives, with 18 bodies never being recovered.