Yesterday Sally dropped me at Pontefract Castle for an hour's stone walking. Pontefract has, of course, been an important centre since Roman times and for centuries its castle was impregnable both as fortress and prison. I caught a glimpse of it on a my last visit in 1995 and it gave me the shudders. It is nothing but a crumbling ruin now but it still has what I, in my hippie-chick lingo, would call a Bad Vibe. When Sally told me what the place was I understood my reaction because I knew of the castle's infamy. I was subsequently to learn that several of my ancestors met their ends there, mainly during the Wars of the Roses.
This time, though, it didn't have that eerie effect on me. Rather, the place seemed forlorn, almost as if it were grieving for its past glories. I wish it could be properly excavated, as under the grass and rubble there must lie a huge amount of archealogical material. Time Team, where are you?
Today we visited another site famous for its part in the Yorkist / Lancastrian conflict - the pretty village of Towton. I paid my respects at the ancient memorial to the fallen on both sides that stands on the battle site itself. Sally and I had ancestors both red and white who died on that terrible day.I am, of course, not doing any writing. There is a wealth of material seeping through to the unconscious, however, and I know much of it will re-surface to help me write the new version of my trilogy. History is in the air here. You can feel it if you can overlook telegraph poles and power lines that crowd the scenery even across the fields and meadows that separate the villages. The landscape, even in rural areas, reminds me of the outskirts of an Australian city. I hope to see some wilder country when I visit the more northerly parts of Yorkshire next weekend.
Great to hear you are enjoying yourself. I think from an Australian perspective, the UK doesn't get really 'wild' until you're in the Lake District or further north. A long time ago, we drove through this country, across Scotland with its one-lane roads and 'passing places'. I bet they don't have these roads anymore, but I bet Gairloch will still feel as remote as it did then. The place I've felt was most similar was Port Campbell on the far (that is western) end of the Great Ocean Road. Just a tiny town, very few trees, clear ocean, a beautiful bay with cattle grazing right up to it and... palms??? In northern Scotland? Weird place. I loved northern Scotland
ReplyDeleteI loved the feel of England -- the way everything is so very, very old. I think you absorb stories from just being there. When I went there, I hadn't start writing fiction yet; but I kept getting weird ideas that made me think that maybe I should try.
ReplyDeleteYes & yes to both your comments:-) Much of England is so built up it's like the outskirts of an Aussie city. There are still wild places, though - Dartmoor and Exmoor in Devon, for example, and much of the Yorkshire vales where I'll be next week. But even the built up places can be inspiring, as Carol says, because of the historical aspect. That's the one big thing about the UK that I miss in Oz.
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