York... Gem of the North
York York York… what can I say?
So this blog entry is less about ghosts and ghouls, and more about my new love affair that has displaced Bath from top position in terms of my favourite stop in the UK! I never thought that possible!
She suggested I hit the Wall and The Shambles while the sun remained up, and then attempt the rest of the town after a good nights sleep! I took her recommendation.
Eventually descending I came to the Shambles… and what an excellent name for it. It does look a bloody Shambles! It’s a length of cobbled street between perfectly preserved Elizabethan buildings… nnot faux Elizabethan… ACTUAL BLOODY ELIZABETHAN! The shops were originally ALL butcher shops (can you imagine the stench…) but is now filled with specialty shops including, strangely… THREE Harry Potter shops… three?
A converted prison, it now houses the collection of a kleptomaniac, bits and bobs from throughout history including an entire street representing Victorian York, all the shops are authentically named, two of which the original buildings from the 1700’s. Period costumed guides wander about ready to provide you with all sorts of information, before you head through for a glimpse of life during the Great Wars, and then down into exhibits about the prison itself, including prison life. Its so well done, Definitely a multiple visit museum.
This rather frugal publican was so sick of closing the pub down during the floods, unhappy missing out on income, that he chose rather to keep the bar open, even when it floods, his patrons drinking their pints in two meters of water!
Next came the Anglo Saxons. Religious lot, but not as advanced as the Romans in terms of city development. While they displaced the Romans, they resurrected wooden buildings, none of which remain today.
I know I’m taking the fear out of this people, so lets just remember that… while during most months of the year they were fishermen and farmers, during Summer they would set sail in order to discover, raid and possibly take over other towns, areas or entire countries! One cleric from Northumbria wrote of the Viking invasion: the “church was spattered with the blood of priests of God, despoiled of all its ornaments…given as a prey to pagan peoples”.
The only reason this got on my itinerary was because of ghosts. Desperate to have a good ghost tour (something along the lines of that which I experienced in Edinburgh some 10 years ago), I jumped onto one of my online groups and asked the question…
The resounding answer? “The best ghosts are in York!”… and so, York got not one, but TWO nights and a full day dedicated to it.
Before I get your hopes up, the ghost tour itself was somewhat disappointing, well, not disappointing, just not as frightening as I’d hoped it to be. Good news though, there are another four or five ghost tours one can go on, so when I revisit in the not too distant future, I’ll be hitting up a different option.
The hub or York, where you’ll find all the museums, galleries, boat rides and ancient streets is… wait for it… only an area of 263 acres… WHAT! And all this history smish-shashed into this area. Its incredible. The place feels more like a maze than a city… with little structure, so when you think by turning right, then right, then right, then right you’ll end up where you started, you will be SORELY mistaken, or entertainingly lost (I felt the latter!).
My first day I found my accommodation on the wharf, apparently the main
landing stage during the medieval period (that’s when the Vikings were about!).
Today, there is tonnes of outdoor seating on the cobbled stone, and fortunately for me, the sun was shining down. However before I could relax, I needed to find the Information Centre in order to get myself a map in order to return to said seating in the sun, and spend the afternoon planning tomorrow’s itinerary.
Surely there wasn’t much to see in this small area. I’d anticipated about four view points and a leisurely afternoon stroll. Not so!
Walking through the city I felt like a meerkat, my eyes darting left and right and up and down, there was so much to take in! I stopped off to see a pop-folk family band thumping out an interesting rendition of “Hit Me Baby”, before skipping across the quadrangle to the Info Centre.
Here the lady brought out three different maps, pamphlets galore and caused me a small anxiety attack realising how much there was to do and see here!
I think they should call this the WONKY town, all the buildings are slightly off kilter, but then again, still standing after hundreds of years. The thick wooden beams and white washed plaster rectangles in between, then the stone buildings, with their less than symmetrical stone work.
I sneakered along the streets, regretting with every step, that I’d not brought my big camera, having told myself I would JUST get the map then go STRAIGHT back… I have no control over myself…
I came to one of the corner towers where I made my way up the stairs and
stood on the ancient Roman wall of York.. Here Roman soldiends, vikings and peasants alike had tramped along, protecting their city, watching their neighbours… Oh to stand here.
I was alone and let out a rather evil sounding giggle, which is infact, my happy OMG I’m here but I shouldn’t be what a lucky duck laugh. I was literally in my version of heaven. The sun was at that spot where its light trickles through the Autumn turning leaves, it was silent except for a slight hubbub coming up from the city below. It was warm and my shoulders enjoyed the breeze as I bounced along the wall.
My favourite spot is shop 35. A woman here, who was married to the butcher, did the WORST imaginable thing and, while born protestant, converted to Catholicism in 1574 (not the time to be changing sides!). She ran a little religious school and performed mass and was promptly taken by the law, they used a particular method to get a confession out of the heathen… PRESSING…
This is where they lie the person down, pop a stone at the small of the back. A large board, basically a door, is then lain on the person, and one by one weights are put on top of the board, slowly crushing the person. Usually their spine cracks and breaks because of the small stone. The hope is that, with the increase of pain, the person will confess… This lady did NOT… and so, weight after weight was added and she eventually died… crushed to death.
So that’s the Shambles.
That night I wandered around the street at night with a gentleman spinning tales of the gruesome goings on and ghostly ghastliness that exists within the city walls. As I said, not much to report, so shall we move on?
Again, the photos can tell you most of the story, but I cannot recommend enough the Castle Museum. It’s incredible.
I then headed to the York Dungeons, very similar to the Warwick Dungeons (see previous blog), except that here we had the fortune to meet Guy Faux and hear his side of the story… his side of the story still amounted to barrels of gun powder, a desire to bring the country back into the arms of Catholicism and a plot thwarted primarily due to his boasting…
Another cruise, this time along the Ouse, the guide pointing out points of historical interest, while I enjoyed the warmth of the sun on my skin, watching the trees blow along the banks and ripple of the water as we made our slow route up and back the river. The area is known to flood quite often, the Captain pointed out one pub that was constantly getting flooded out – The Kings Arms.
Time for the JORVIK Centre… This was a must see, I had little idea about the Viking aspect of Englands history and was keen to find out more. As you descend into the museum you are met by a glass floor through which you can peer down and observe… actual… Viking… relics!
From latrines to graves to a small patch of earth coloured red (still) because of the draining of the wool when they dyed it with different roots and plants. They used this piece of earth to see if they could still dye wool with it, and yes… THEY DID! Quite ingenious group of people.
In terms of dying the clothes they would yes, use plant and roots to get the
colour, but also urine (due to the ammonia content) to get the colour to ‘stay’. I asked the historian how they discovered this particularly interesting piece of knowledge – the others had a bit of a giggle, but one does wonder… was some ancient individual platting their hair while doing a number one in a fern bush then realised their hair had gone, and stayed, green?
Unfortunately she didn’t have an answer for me, so I must continue my search!
Ok… so York in a nutshell… The Romans came and displaced the Britons in 71 AD. The Romans made York the capital city (apparently to do with the waterways and it being half way between the North and South). It was these guys who built the city walls.
Mid 9th Century Ivan the Boneless (whom I assume DID have bones… otherwise the soldiering and the sword wielding and the pillaging may have been somewhat difficult). Things continued a little… less efficiently than during Roman times. Very wood orientated… not a lot of plumbing…
THEN… came the Normans, from Norway – appropriately. This is where we have William The Lovely.. oh no… the Conqueror, because of all the conquering I imagine. And the rest is history, so to speak… in that we move into the War of the Roses, then Henry the VIII, then Victoria – but I think we all have that down pat.
So, going back to Ivan. The Vikings took over, made use of the remaining
Roman buildings, but primarily went back to their own traditions in terms of village life. This included the not-washing. Washing was not a manly thing to do (direct opposite of the Romans. In 1931 at one of the pubs near the Minster in York was digging down for renovations came across Roman Baths that were specifically for the soldiers… they loved a good wash! The bath houses were warmed by a furnace and then the water moved between the different baths… amazing!).
I sat on a hanging seat and was slowly moved through the Viking habitat. Can I just make a mention of the animatronics (animated manicans), they were so close to human with their gestures, movements and facial expressions, I felt them WATCHING me… what’s worse, I knew this is how the film WestWorld began… I also knew how it ended!
Anyway, so I moved through visiting the different people in the town. While a gusty lot, and not against a little rape and pillaging, the Vikings were also quite civilised. BIG meat eaters, they’d have areas particularly for the meats, they built two story homes with basement, loved colour and so created some beautiful beaded jewellery and colourful attire.
So… there we are… a lot of history for one day. My feet were throbbing but I had one last thing to do, for many reasons, one of which was just pleasure.
I headed off to the museum gardens, a place so peaceful in the waning sun that I wished I could stay here another few days, so atleast ONE of those days I could spend every sun-strewn hour here.
While wandering the gardens, watching the skittish squirrels dash hither and dither, I came across the ruins of St Marys Abbey, and what a thing to finish off my England adventure with.
Originally built in 1088 it was originally one of the most wealthy Benedictine
monasteries in England. At one point it took over the ENTIRE Museum Gardens, just trying to contemplate that was exhausting.
For me though, it was about standing and watching the green and yellow leaves swaying alongside these ancient stones. Hearing what was no longer here to hear… linking myself to the past.
While in York I also visited the Minster, which is incredible and impressive and… far too big for my camera to take in one shot… but it didn’t steal my heart the way that ruins do… and this abbey will stay with me in my dreams when I need a moment of subconscious solitude.
So much more to see and do… York was a genuine surprise to me and a place I shall visit again.
And, as I write this, sitting in Heathrow Airport, its time to say goodbye to England once again. I hope it wont be a decade again before I next step on your shores.
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