Balloon Dancing in Hell

With hindsight it was probably an error to try to find a waterfall on the North York Moors by putting its postcode into my sat nav. A particularly amateurish error, in fact.  After ages spent driving in circles around country lanes - reminiscent of the time I got stuck in Sheffield City Centre's one way system, only narrower and steeper - we made a break for it by heading for Pickering instead. But not before I'd spotted a lapwing by the side of the road, which cheered me up a bit. (No photo, I was driving.)

Pickering's best treasure is its amazing collection of mediaeval wall paintings in the 12th century Church of St Peter and St Paul. They date from the mid-15th century and were rediscovered under whitewash in 1852.  The then vicar was of the same mind as the zealots who covered them over in the first place during the Reformation, and had them whitewashed over again.  They remained hidden until 1876, when a new vicar, Rev G Lightfoot, had them uncovered and restored. 

A quick guided tour, then:

First, St George vanquishing the Dragon

Next to him stands the Hermit from the story of St Christopher, holding up his lantern in  Light Of The World sort of way ...

... and St Christopher himself, with his precious cargo

The Beheading of John the Baptist

The Coronation of the Virgin Mary

The Martyrdom of St Edmund, who was shot full of arrows and then beheaded for refusing to renounce his faith ...   
Heaven blys to hys mede, Hem sall have for his gud ded

... with a scene from the Martyrdom of St Thomas Becket above

A closer look at St Thomas? Don't mind if I do. 

An overall view of the paintings on the north wall of the nave

Continuing clockwise, on the south side of the nave, a very detailed depiction of the story of St Catherine, including her torture on a spiked wheel and her unrepentant wait for her execution

Next, what the guide book calls The Seven Corporeal Acts of Mercy. These run as a band beneath the clerestory windows and are hard to photograph in any way that gives more than a general impression.

These are followed by the Passion and Crucifixion of Christ, in a similar format.



Above the bands between the windows are the forerunners of the painting of the Coronation of the Virgin Mary, showing her burial and her assumption into heaven. You'll have to imagine them, I'm afraid. 

A close-up of the Descent into Hell (my favourite)

As Dru said, a balloon dance in hell.

And finally, Christ's Resurrection

I also especially loved the font, the top part of which is believed to be Saxon. A thousand years later, it's still in use.  It is believed to have been damaged in 1644, when an attempted demolition, presumably by Roundheads, was recorded.  

From Pickering we headed for Robin Hood's Bay and made our way down the famously steep road to the quay, stopping off to look down the quirky side streets. 

A wander along the beach and back, a sombre drink at the top of the hill before heading back to Whitby - another post Brexit day in Yorkshire ... 

Around About Whitby

Rain forecast, so we decided to go for a walk around Whitby.

Pleasingly, the cottage we were staying in on Longsteps was on the route we were taking, so we didn't have to surrender our as-rare-as-hen's-teeth parking space.  (My parking skills are improving exponentially - though still quite crap.)

When Vile King Henry broke with Rome, his men left enough of the Abbey standing so that sailors could still navigate their ships. 

On our way through the lanes, we made new friends. 

Our route then joined the Cleveland Way coastal path at 
Whitby Lighthouse. Here we turned to walk two miles back to Whitby along the cliff edge.

Adjacent to the lighthouse is Hornblower Lodge, Whitby's decommissioned foghorn station.  Apparently the sound of the horns travelled at such a low frequency that the townsfolk only heard the first blast as the third was starting. 

A rather more raucous noise alerted us to the presence of a colony of gulls on a cliff. 

We were soon above Saltwick Bay. This is Black Nab. 

I'm used to the rather more strenuously undulating coastal path of Devon and Cornwall. Even so, it was good to sit down outside the cafe at the caravan site we passed ('muddy boots and furry paws welcome') for tea and cake.

All the way back to town, swallows buzzed the cliff, hunting insects.  I was struck, not for the first time, at how close we were to the local birds - swallows and larks springing from underfoot at the Abbey ruins, swifts screaming around our cottage, gulls at our backs, watching every move.

By now the promised rain had set in. We made our way back to the cottage via Jacky (or Donkey) Field, a far more agreeable route for a sensitive border collie than narrow, crowded streets. 

It brightened up later in the evening for us to get out again, the strong light of the setting sun proving a draw for local photographers with their unfeasibly large lenses. Of which I'm not one. 

 

Heaven in Scarborough ... and then we went to Filey

I tried the door. St Martin-on-the-Hill was locked. But there was a sign alongside - guided tours at 10.30am every Tuesday. I looked at my phone. It was nearly 10am. I looked at my partner. Was it Tuesday? Yes, it was. 

While he took Ted dog off to sample the delights of Scarborough, I counted off the minutes until I could get in. The guide and his wife made me a cup of coffee when they arrived. I was about to enter heaven on earth.  

Almost immediately, I was struck by the similarity with All Saints Church in Selsley, near Stroud, so it was no surprise to learn that this church and that are sister churches, designed by the same architect, G F Bodley, and both fitted out by Morris & Co.  

Our guide took me and three other people who had arrived on a guided tour of the beautiful windows. I'm posting pictures of some my favourites but there are more. 

St Martin divides his cloak in two and gives half to a beggar ...

... then dreams that the beggar is Christ in Majesty, conqueror of sin and  death, holding up the cloak while angels wipe their noses on it kiss it.

The rose window in the west wall, with a central Annunciation designed by Burne Jones, and circling angels by him and William Morris 

The story of SS Dorothea and Theophilus (now demoted to non-official sainthood owing to Lack Of Evidence Of Their Existence), with the most beautiful angel/fruit bearer between them. Dorothea is modelled by Jane Morris.  Burne Jones was paid £12 for its design.

The Three Marys window, originally made for St Martin's Church in Brighton but rejected because it features Lizzie Siddal, a probable suicide 

Mary Magdalene, modelled by Annie Miller and designed by Morris

Mary the Virgin, modelled by Georgiana Burne Jones and designed by her husband

Mary of Bethany, modelled by Lizzie Siddal and designed by Morris

As well as these and other beautiful windows, there is a pulpit with panels on the front painted to designs by Ford Madox Brown and Morris. The top row shows the Four Evangelists; the bottom panels, depicting SS Augustine of Hippo, Gregory, Jerome and Ambrose of Milan, were considered close to popery by some of the townsfolk of Scarborough and had to be curtained when the pulpit was first installed, for fear of causing offence. 

To the side there are two panels featuring scenes from the Annunciation by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 

The organ 

The rood screen and cross, both late additions after the death of the principle benefactor of the Church, Mary Craven, the crossing of which  symbolises death

The chancel, or heaven

The east window, telling the story of the Crucifixion through the Parable of the Vineyard

The beautiful beautiful ceiling of the Lady Chapel










Tearing myself away, I met up with the Northerner, who was rather underwhelmed by the secular delights of Scarborough, and we headed off to Filey, his childhood holiday destination. I'd been enthusing about how much I'd liked it during my stay a couple of years ago, when I went to my nephew's wedding, but I hadn't had my dog with me then and now much of the beach was out of bounds to us - or under water. 

And it was really hard to find anywhere decent to eat. And a gull managed to shit on both of us with one well-aimed evacuation. 

'Never mind,' said the woman in Boots when we went in for baby wipes. 'At least it wasn't one of those horrible gulls from Bridlington.' 

Yes, even non local gulls are to be denigrated in post-Brexit Britain. 

'We must remember to buy a lottery ticket' said the Northerner as he dabbed off a second direct hit - but needless to say, we forgot. 

Still at least one of our party was having a great time ...