On our way up to the Dales, we stopped at Ripon. We haven't been to Ripon for many years and last time we were there, it was quite run down. It's much smarter now, although the shopping is more generic high street than it used to be. Appleton's the butchers is still on the market square and still has a tempting display of pork pies and black pudding; I'm sure they had a bicycle made of pies and puddings in the window for the Tour de France. I think the Tour must have boosted tourism, because it all looked great on the TV.
The cathedral is in much better nick than we remembered, too. It's got a Saxon crypt, tiny, cramped and bare, which I didn't recall seeing before. it's dedicated to St Wilfred, who also has quite a few churches dedicated to him around Nottingham. However, he is rather unpopular with many people, as it seems to have been Wilfred who swung the synod of Whitby to the Latin church and away from the Celtic church. The Celtic church is, at least superficially, more attractive, so to some, Wilfred is more of a villain than a saint.
The cathedral has a chapel with tombs of the Markenfields, and after the tour we went to Markenfield Hall, which is just outside Ripon.
Markenfield is mentioned in the Domesday Book (1086) but the present building is thirteenth century, and a lot of the farm buildings seemed to be fifteenth or even sixteenth century. It's moated, and in lovely countryside, and very romantic. It's only open for a few weeks in the year, and there aren't many rooms to see, but what there is is worth the trip. It's intensely romantic. The chapel is still consecrated and used for weddings.
I kept wondering what the little turret at Markenfield reminded me of, and on our return it dawned on me that there is a copy in Nottingham's Lace Market.
There are two important Victorian architects in Nottingham and one was into medievalism. He was called Fothergill Watson, and later changed his name to Watson Fothergill. Which gives rise to the sort of straight faced and unfunny joke that people who have been married for forty four years enjoy - well, not even enjoy actually, it's just habit I think. Anyway, one of us looks at a building and says "Is that a Watson Fothergill?" and the other replies "No, I think it's a Fothergill Watson." ROFL.
After our visit, we drove on to Kettlewell and our walking friends, and all in all, I can appreciate why Yorkshire is known as God's Own Country. Look it up: the internet is never wrong.
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| I know lots of people don't like fields of oilseed rape, and I must admit the smell is sneeze inducing. But this looks great, doesn't it? |
The cathedral is in much better nick than we remembered, too. It's got a Saxon crypt, tiny, cramped and bare, which I didn't recall seeing before. it's dedicated to St Wilfred, who also has quite a few churches dedicated to him around Nottingham. However, he is rather unpopular with many people, as it seems to have been Wilfred who swung the synod of Whitby to the Latin church and away from the Celtic church. The Celtic church is, at least superficially, more attractive, so to some, Wilfred is more of a villain than a saint.
The cathedral has a chapel with tombs of the Markenfields, and after the tour we went to Markenfield Hall, which is just outside Ripon.
Markenfield is mentioned in the Domesday Book (1086) but the present building is thirteenth century, and a lot of the farm buildings seemed to be fifteenth or even sixteenth century. It's moated, and in lovely countryside, and very romantic. It's only open for a few weeks in the year, and there aren't many rooms to see, but what there is is worth the trip. It's intensely romantic. The chapel is still consecrated and used for weddings.
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| Moat and Gatehouse |
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| The Courtyard - see the little turret |
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| Inside - the hall |
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| The utility room |
I kept wondering what the little turret at Markenfield reminded me of, and on our return it dawned on me that there is a copy in Nottingham's Lace Market.
There are two important Victorian architects in Nottingham and one was into medievalism. He was called Fothergill Watson, and later changed his name to Watson Fothergill. Which gives rise to the sort of straight faced and unfunny joke that people who have been married for forty four years enjoy - well, not even enjoy actually, it's just habit I think. Anyway, one of us looks at a building and says "Is that a Watson Fothergill?" and the other replies "No, I think it's a Fothergill Watson." ROFL.
After our visit, we drove on to Kettlewell and our walking friends, and all in all, I can appreciate why Yorkshire is known as God's Own Country. Look it up: the internet is never wrong.
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