Knowing the place for the first time

Back in the early 80s, few students had cars, and so, although I spent three years of my four-year degree course living either on the campus of Lancaster University or in digs in Morecambe, I got to know very little of the local area, and finally, forty-plus years later, it was time to put that right. 

One place I wanted to visit back then was Heysham, largely because I'd heard friends who'd been there talk of stone tombs cut into the rocks, which filled up with water, though there was some confusion as to whether this was when it rained or when the tide came in. And there are. (And it's when it rains.) More about them in a bit.

First, the Church of St Peter, part of the fabric of which is Saxon, and which is in parts wonderfully wonky, as you can see from the angle of the porch (although not as wonky at St Martin's at Cwmyoy in Monmouthshire). 

A mediaeval stone coffin which once held the remains of a former priest

The churchyard on the cliffs overlooking Morecambe Bay reminded me very much of St Andrew's at Clevedon.

The inside of the church was full of sea light, and I thought how, if you were a member of the congregation, you'd have to get there in time to get the best seat, which is obviously next to the window overlooking the shore. You could dream away whole services there.

15th century font with 19th century cover

There are lots of old stones in the church:

Two 17th century gravestones with raised lettering

Gravestone, dated 1670, in memory of William Ward, 'pastor of this church', who's recorded as a 'painful pastor' of his people

Grave slab with floriated cross dating from the 13th century

Fragment of a chalice found on the breast of the rector whose stone coffin is now outside the church, but was formerly located in the chancel

This, however, is the jewel of the church's interior: a Viking hogback stone, possibly the best preserved one in the country. It's believed to have been a grave marker, and to date from the 10th century, and interpretations of the carvings on either side vary dramatically. The booklet in the Church claims that one side represents the story of Sigmund and the other that of Sigurd the Dragonslayer, and that will do for me.

Outside, there are more fascinating old stones - this is the base of a Anglo-Saxon cross, apparently, dating from the 9th century. There's a figure standing in the doorway of a gabled building on one side - the guidebook says it's shrouded and is probably Lazarus - and on the opposite side a figure holding a baby. This, the guidebook identifies as Marty with the infant Jesus, but I suspect it's Mary. Or it might be Jesus holding a book, apparently. 

Some of the original Saxon church is incorporated in the current building; this doorway, which was removed in the 19th century, was rebuilt in the churchyard.

Base of sundial dated 1696

Interesting graves in the churchyard include that of Harriett and Mabel Wright, aged 18 and 14, who went for a swim in Morecambe Bay in 1895 and drowned 'within sight of their home'; Richard Cartmel, who drowned in Heysham harbour in 1905 at the age of 24;  a woman with the fabulous name of Fanny Hazard, who died in 1920; and human remains dating from c 1010, which had been originally buried in or near St Patrick's Chapel on the headland above the church and which were reinterred in St Peter's churchyard in 1977.

Oh, and the grave of two of the wives, Sarah and Sadie, of James Jones, a native of Heysham, who led a very eventful life. There seems to be some confusion online as to whether this marvellous epigram refers to one of the women or Jones, although the Lancaster Guardian is quite clear it refers to Jones, and that seems most likely to me too.

Then we headed up through the woods to the ruins of St Patrick's Chapel. On the way I found two tawny owl feathers.

And there were the (mostly dry) rock-cut tombs, which isn't surprising after the hot summer we've had. 

It's believed that they predate the Norman Conquest of 1066, and that they might not have been used as tombs, but rather ossuaries to hold bones.

The ruins of St Patrick's Chapel, which also date from Saxon times; the narrow doorway has an arch cut from a single slab of stone

a floriated cross grave slab

It was lovely sitting on the headland admiring the view - apart from nearby Heysham Nuclear Power Station, but the morning was turning to afternoon, so we headed for Lancaster.

I'd forgotten the lovely colour of the local sandstonewhich was used in the construction of so many of the city's buildings.

Negotiating its fiendish one-way system, I was struck to see that some of the pubs and restaurants that had been there forty plus years ago were still thriving, and with the same names. We'd have definitely visited Pizza Margherita, had we not had our dog, Cwtch, with us; as it was, we headed for the canal-side pub, The Waterwitch, which opened not long before I became an undergraduate. 

It was just as pleasant as I'd remembered, and it serves cider, which was a rarity up north back in the 1980s but seems to be rather more common these days.

For many years I castigated myself for not visiting the colossus that is Lancaster Castle when I had the chance. What was wrong with my nineteen year old self that I never bothered to go inside? It was only when I returned that I remembered it had been a prison back then; in fact, it only stopped being one in 2011. 

The only way to look around all of the castle these days is as a guided tour, which isn't very practical when your other two-thirds - partner and dog - are waiting outside, so I restricted myself to the courtyard ...

... and the exhibition about the Pendle Witches, which features tercets by Carol Ann Duffy and was a sombre reminder of the persecution of people who don't conform to society's norms that continues to this day.  

After which it was time to visit the Lancaster Priory, which I also didn't manage to explore all those years ago, probably because in my head it was as inaccessible as the Castle, even though it wasn't. 

The first thing I noticed was more ancient stones, including this 7th century runic cross, known as Cynibald's Cross, which was discovered buried in the churchyard in 1807 and which is actually a replica, the original now in the British Museum ... 

and this 10th century stone slab, with the motif of a hart and hound.

A Saxon font

Madonna and child, by Shawn Williamson, commissioned in 1994 to celebrate the 900th anniversary of the Priory

Actually, I tell a lie, the first thing I noticed was the glorious stained glass window the colour of jay feathers in the chapel at the end of the south aisle, but I knew it would be such a treat to look at, I decided to save it till later.

As well as the window, you can also see some of the choir stalls in this photo. They date from 1340, and they really are quite spectacular.

And finally time to soothe my eyes with this beautiful window, made in 1966 by Robert Ashmead and depicting St Thomas. Glorious.

Outside in the churchyard, it was good to see the traditional notions of 'the great and the good' of Lancaster being challenged. Something that unites my native city (Bristol), and my first home-from-home.