Upnor Castle was an Elizabethan military fort. It was used as a castle until 1667.

Upnor Castle is somewhat hidden away just beyond the boundaries of possibly the loviest village I’ve ever come across. Truly visible only from the river, the castle’s placement is intriguing yet understandable – the river is small but it leads into the North Sea.

This castle is unlike, in nature, any I’ve previously documented here – created as a military fort only, the rooms lack any sort of homely feel, and there are none of the rooms you generally expect to find in a castle. Instead there is a lot of brick work and storage space.

The side of Upnor that looks most castle-like is the one that faces the river. Aptly it looks a little foreboding, and alludes to a larger size than the castle actually is. The side you enter is little more than a gatehouse and courtyard. In all there are four buildings – the gatehouse, the main block, and two towers. And everything is small to boot.

The entrance to the gatehouse sports a large fireplace, and it’s easy to assume that this place was the destination of many a solider on a cold winter’s night. You’re able to walk up the stairs, a few flights, to various rooms. The rooms at Upnor are mainly bare, with simple (and sometimes non-existent) descriptions of what they housed. You can see the workings of the clock in one of them, and the dressing room. You can walk up to the roof.

In the main building, across the tiny courtyard, is the storage room, aptly furnished with barrels and hosting artefacts. Up the rickety stairs is a room of ghostly models and advertisements to say that this, the room, can be used for weddings. If I were to be married in a castle I’d personally opt for something more stereotypical, Hever for example, especially as the smell here is awful. I don’t know what it is but it’s definitely something gone off or something historical (maybe both) and any Chanel no.5 would be quickly replaced by Chanel no. 1600s.

From the first, ground floor, room in this building there are steps down which lead to the river front. The view is pretty enough and you can spend some time in vain, as I did, trying to a get a photograph of the entirely of this most castle-like side.

You can go back up the stairs or you can take the eerie tunnel. We take the tunnel. It’s long, and if Upnor is haunted then this seems the place (ironically I’m writing this in a place that is most certainly haunted). You then come outside the castle and enter the left tower (left to the gatehouse). There are more empty rooms and you have to be careful on the stairs because there is the potential to fall through the gaps. At the time I visited the roof wasn’t open to visitors.

Across the way and there is the right tower. A door level with the courtyard or a flight of steps takes you to the same place. In the tower are the historical toilets and another fireplace. Back in the courtyard there is a door that appears to go to a cellar but only takes you outside the walls. The shop and ticket office were barracks, but you can’t look around them.

And that’s Upnor. Small, unassuming, but likely a nasty surprise for the Dutch it was built to fight against.

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Please note this post is full of images. Odiham Castle was built in the early 1200s and served both as a hunting lodge and residence. It is free to visit.

And that, above, is the entirety of Odiham Castle. Not, as you might think (and I certainly thought) that which remains. No, the above shows the area of the castle in its totality. Unlike most castles we know of, Odiham was built as a hunting lodge. And if you factor in staircases, which were likely spiral but would still have taken up room, you’re looking at an area that, space-wise, would be quite the cheap residence today if not for its age.

It’s probably just as well that people were smaller then, because personally, the half a dozen steps it takes to walk the diameter struck me as ripe for a prison rather than ripe for the Queen of England (though of course on many occasions in our tolerant history Queens have been imprisoned). Nevertheless it’s rather cute, if such a contemporary phrase can be used, and has a certain aura of peacefulness.

Though finding the site is anything but peaceful. Indeed the walk is picturesque, a canal, a canal bridge, and a quaint hamlet if you walk in the wrong direction, but it is also very marshy. It is difficult to find because there are no signs beyond one that leads to the entrance off the beaten track, and it is hidden behind trees and down a shadowy path. It does fit the image of a hunting lodge, as the only form of defence available on such land would be secrecy, and the area looks the sort of place wild animals would like. Of course the fences that make the path so narrow likely did not exist ‘back then’, but a castle on flat low land does not a fort make.

So Odiham began life as a hunting lodge. It was actually built as a stronghold by King John, but like many things he created, such as his right to the throne, it didn’t happen in the way he would’ve wished.

It was from here that John rode to sign the Magna Carta. Not to break with tradition, another country’s king (Louis from France this time) attacked it and the soldiers surrendered. After John’s death, King Henry III got it back into English hands and repaired it. He gave it to his sister and her husband, Simon de Montefort, and they turned it into a home. The inevitable happened, a battle ‘abroad’ ended the happy couple’s time here, the castle was repaired by Edward I, and it became a hunting lodge again.

Finally the castle was put to what I’d say was more appropriate use and held a captive King. It would’ve been a nice homely prison, but it fits the space. Scottish David was here, though not late enough to have thought to graffiti such in modern slang, and then it became a hunting lodge once again. It was in ruins by the 1600s. Of what cause it’s not known.

If you are wondering why I’ve written up the history of the building when I usually describe the castle itself, the photos and my introduction should make it obvious – there’s not much to be said about a small tower. You can see the floor joists, a fireplace, the remains of buttresses, and the archway (which has been fortified by a modern roof because the walls are crumbling a bit – on the roof are many small stones from the top of the castle). There is a fence surrounding the cemented ground inside the castle and a fence around it, for what reason I’m not sure as you can easily touch the archway walls. Other than that there is nothing to say.

Odiham today is a nice spot in which to ponder history, and its placement far from the road gives it an eerie atmosphere, but this is one castle that, whilst definitely important to keep for its heritage value, is honestly best served as a place for children to play, for the laughter and joy they would bring to a place that once must have had the same in abundance. Far from being forgotten, there were a fair number of people about, be it in passing, in rest, or in historic rapture. You wouldn’t ‘make a day’ of it, but you might make a moment.

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Please note this post is full of images. Southampton Castle, with walls ending at the sea, has been a fort, a place for markets, and played host to royal visitors. It stands today in ruins, various pieces of walls dotted around the edge of the current city.

What’s most interesting about Southampton Castle, from a visitor’s perspective, is that the walls being as they are, the modern city has simply been built around what remains. The result is that there is no entry fee and the walls are just another part of the place. And you can hardly blame the council for building inside the walls, the area is rather big and without it the city would have to stretch over further land in order to accommodate so many people. Indeed the city has already reclaimed land from the sea and what is great about the castle walls is that they form a reminder of how far the water originally came to. Eating in a restaurant by the dock gates, I couldn’t help but feel peculiar at the thought that not so long ago the area I sat in was occupied by water. It’s a good job time travel hasn’t been achieved or else a person could get a nasty shock – I can’t say that eating sandwiches whilst swimming for the shore would be my cup of tea, and as for my cup of tea it would be…

Being a ruin over a massive area, it would be difficult to prescribe a tourist entrance and history-centric walking route. If you wanted to get as close as possible to one, you would likely wish to start at the Bargate, which is positioned in the centre of the town’s shopping district, at the end of the High Street. And of course, given that the area is built up, there isn’t access to every single section of wall as parts are inside in the grounds of blocks of flats.

The good thing is that the rough area of the castle is still apparent – the four sides simple to find (generally), and it’s easy enough to walk around the whole area without getting too lost; this is providing you find out in advance which parts no longer have walls, you walk in more or less a straight line, and, for those wanting only the castle, you know which of the structures you encounter are “it”. I must say, however, that although there are a couple of signs saying “walk the walls”, the castle as a whole isn’t a tourist attraction. I didn’t see any groups looking around and passers by eyed me strangely when I took out the camera. As such I couldn’t recommend a special trip to Southampton unless you wanted to see the city anyway, or if you’re barmy like me and want to see every last castle in Britain.

So, in order to align with the unusualness of the ruins, I will take you on a tour starting from the docks rather than the Bargate. It’s the way round I went anyway. We can consider ourselves pirate raiders instead of kings on an inspection, which will surely be much more fun. And, due to the nature explained a hundred times already, be prepared for a few notes about other historical sites within the castle grounds because there is only so much one can write about sections of stone wall. Talking of captives, the castle was reportedly never used as a jail. Just as well; it seems Southampton contains enough ghosts without the addition of angry sailors in chains. I suppose I’m never going to be able to write about historic sites without discussing spirits.

It’s difficult to describe the castle in the way you normally would another, so I will begin with the south wall, the right-hand side of it that leads towards the corner. This section is known as Watergate and it’s definitely a highlight owing to how much still survives. What’s there is a section of wall that newer buildings have been built against – I questioned safety, but my boyfriend said that if the wall had survived since the 1200s it’s likely the safest structure around – and then behind it are a couple of rooms. In other words there is the exterior wall with a little of the inner side still standing, and then, in what would have been the interior, you cross a busy road and see walls making two rooms. That the four walls still stand makes for quite an atmosphere, and there is enough there to deduce that it was either a chapel (high church-like window) or a hall (wall scones). That there is traffic everywhere and that you are basically in an alleyway behind a line of restaurants is surprisingly rather special. It makes you realise just how much the past and present intertwine, how people have used the same space and each era has made it their own.

A little further inland is an archaeological dig that you can’t enter, so now we walk out of the hall and back across the road. You can choose to either walk along the main road or cross to the car park – both lead to the same place but via different doors. The main road to a gate, the car park to another wall – the east wall. We choose the car park.

Through the park and splitting it from a block of beautiful flats is the east wall and an additional gate. The gate was created, as the plaque says, as an entrance to the castle for a monastery left outside when the walls were built. Further inland is another tower, which was used as a house years later, and as the walls then only continue a little before another break we turn right from the monastery gate and continue down towards the docks again. It’s all very confusing in text, and unfortunately just as confusing in real life. Here the walls lead to the tower I said the main road would take us to had we chosen it, and the walls again join on to modern restaurants. An old church building is down another alleyway. If you look from the exterior side through the tower gate, and if the sun has gone down, you can almost imagine yourself on a dark street, Dickens style.

Now we head all the way back along the exterior side, past Watergate, to walk the road before coming to a roundabout. Before the roundabout, note the Maritime Museum. It’s old too.

Westgate. The gate itself leads into a residential square that contains a medieval merchant’s office. The building originally stood elsewhere but was packed up when it was realised that this “elsewhere” was right in front of a church and right in front of a house, one front one back. You wouldn’t call those builders back in a hurry.

Here you can walk along the winding streets that feel old fashioned despite the modernity or you can walk back to the exterior of the gate. In the streets you will find the afore mentioned church and house, Tudor House, and another merchant’s building that is known to be haunted.

Finally, if walking through the streets, you come to an intersection and a pub called Juniper Berry. Remember I said in my report of Netley Abbey that Jane Austen was everywhere I went? Well she’s turned up again, the pub boasts a plaque proclaiming that the plot of land once supported a house Austen stayed in. I know Austen lived in the south of England, but this is getting silly. I’d like to think she found the change of building insulting but she’s probably in there drinking and playing on the slot machines, trying to make up for all the royalties she’s lost since her books became classics post-humorously.

Walk around the pub’s exterior and towards the west castle wall you see in front of you. You have to cross a bridge that takes you over the ruins of what was first the Great Hall (according to what I could find) and then a cellar. Some of the stone arches still stand. The room is too unstable for visitors and you can’t get any closer unless you’re a resident of the houses behind it, but when you continue down the other side of the bridge you can at least view the garderobe. Why is viewing a medieval toilet so fascinating?

We’ve walked in a circle now, so turn towards the direction that Juniper Berry is in and we’ll continue towards the shopping district. Along the wall behind you are arches that have been blocked up, shop fronts of traders. And, although you can’t see it unless you pay to look around the Tudor House I spoke off, there is a Norman house, too.

When you reach the shopping district there is a tower with steps you can use to walk along the top. The Bargate (the photograph at the top of this post) stands in the centre of the street, the entrance to the castle which now marks the end of the main shopping district and the start of a line of smaller shops and restaurants. The room in the Bargate is used as an art gallery, open to the public.

The Bargate does not end our journey – however only the most persistent explorer will realise this, and I wasn’t one until the last moment. Down an alleyway and in line with the Bargate but hidden behind shops is York Gate, the last of the remains of the east side of the north wall. Conveniently nestled in-between a break in the wall is an entrance to a rather desolate shopping centre. The walls of the castle here cover up some unsightly electrical hubs. Truly history has aided the future.

And that ends our tour of the castle. If you wish you can tour the roads around that tower with the stairs, but it’s not particularly interesting. What is interesting is that the Bargate is a sort of accidental marker for the most haunted part of the city – interesting because the ghosts came long after the castle fell into disuse. The castle area plays host to many; a medieval pub boasts 22 of them. The pub was the setting for a council and welcomed Henry V to its rooms.

One can’t say that a visit to Southampton Castle is particularly entertaining or memorable; indeed one can’t really say they’ve “visited” the castle at all, caught up as it is with the modern buildings. But for the historian prepared for disappointment, or the obsessed Jane Austen fan, it is perhaps worth it.

I am that historian, and yet aside from the added history that came with the city in general, for example The Titanic, I cannot say it was worth it. In regards to the castle alone I’m very glad to be able to tick it off my list and move on. History it may have but it is lacking.

And the country thought so too. It was abandoned by the 1400s.

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Please note this post is full of images. The grounds at Hever Castle date back to the 1200s but it was during the Tudor period that the castle we see today was built. Owned by the Boleyn family until Thomas Boleyn’s death, it passed to Anne of Cleves and then various other families before being bought in the early 1900s by William Astor of America, who restored it. Hever now belongs to a private company and is open to visitors.

Hever Castle is nestled just beyond the tiny hamlet of the same name. Whilst the exterior is made of stone and there is a moat around it, nothing gives you the impression that the land was used for a fortified building – indeed if it were, then the valley it is in wasn’t the best place for it.

When you arrive at Hever you walk through the gardens and the first thing you come to is a spectacular lake. If you have seen images (or indeed been to the place) of Chatsworth House, which was used in both the TV series and film of Pride And Prejudice as well as The Duchess, then you will be able to picture the lake at Hever because the atmosphere is the same.

You can hire a boat or simply stand on the Victorian-esque veranda and lean against the balustrades, imagining yourself as lord or lady of the manor. It isn’t quite what Anne Boleyn would have experienced, but as time moves on houses change, and so too Hever.

You carry on walking through the gardens, past the tourist-pleasing cafés and shops, the flowers and Roman statues, the trellises and archways, before sighting the castle and the additional buildings behind it – additions by the most recent family owners, the American Astor family. There is no big road up to the castle, just a little bridge across a river and a huge slab of pavement, but, as my companion told me, what visitors enter is not the original entrance. That is easy to believe, despite the grand gated entry. Thomas, Anne’s father, is likely having a good laugh and not rolling in grave given that us riff-raff regular people aren’t given a royal entrance.

And yet if the stories are true and Anne haunts the bridge over the moat – the second bridge you cross – then it must be the entrance, because why would she haunt a modern-day creation? To be honest I’m a little sceptical of the haunting giving that she is said to haunt the Tower Of London. It makes more sense that she’d haunt the place of her incarceration and execution than her childhood home, and in order to haunt Hever whilst haunting the Tower she’d have to split her time between them. Not that she couldn’t, it would likely not be difficult considering she has no body, but I’m still sceptical.

As you walk under the gate (festooned with a portcullis) you step into the most idyllic courtyard imaginable. And you suddenly realise just how small and utterly cosy Hever is. The outer wall is authentically Tudor and it is just the most wonderful construction, so simple yet so beautiful.

You cannot take photographs in the house, mainly, I expect, because the rooms contain original artworks and there are not enough members of staff to check on everyone. I will say here that the staff are wonderful – helpful, quite obviously in love with the castle, and although the route is a one-way system they let you go back if necessary. Little old ladies are invited to descend the main stairs instead of using the narrow spirals, and people with hideously slow companions allowed to retrace their steps to find them. Half an hour I waited in the long gallery and the man overseeing the room was practically on the verge of offering me tea and cake when she finally appeared; please note that a history lesson prior to visiting is advised if you’re going to travel with someone who likes to conduct a close reading of every single information plaque.

So to the contents of the house, for it truly is a home; you enter the hall, which leads into a “kitchen”. It’s not really a kitchen, it’s more a gallery, and the creation of the Astor family. Nevertheless the intention to make it look Tudor is there and the room is a beauty. There is even a viewing gallery above your head. This is the room where most of Hever’s original art collection hangs and you can gaze with awe at tyrant Henry, be bemused by the label of “Anne Bullen” under a piece still disputed, and look at the egotistical upstart Philip II of Spain (he never did make it to King of England status, no doubt in part because he shared the bed of anyone but his wife Mary I). Off to one side is the Astor’s drawing room, which isn’t Tudor but is quite pretty regardless.

The library is also lacking in Tudor detail, but that hardly matters because the dining room appears to be authentic 1500s. It is here, even more so than the courtyard, where you truly realise just how small the castle is. You would expect that a family high in court society might have a great hall and a dining room large enough to seat a court itself, but the room would be hard pressed to fit Henry VIII alone, and certainly the servants must have had to skip meals and lose weight in order to get around the table without knocking diners head first into their soup. Indeed a servant might even wonder if there hadn’t been a mix-up and that the masters were eating in the servants’ quarters – as visitors we never came across any room that was suited to a stable boy.

But beyond that… astonishment, the dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest and fully Tudor in decoration. And if the Boleyns really did eat there then we may have an alternative reason why Anne held Henry at arms length until their marriage – compared to this, lifelong access to Hampton Court’s dining room would have been something you’d want included in your wedding vows.

Up a spiral staircase – you have to be careful, it’s old and those early-modern people had small feet (no, this does not explain the dining room, before you suggest it). You may be surprised to discover that the room you now stand in, with it’s stunning view of the moat but unmistakably anti-chamber atmosphere, is in fact Anne Boleyn’s bedroom. Don’t get too excited. Yes, it is quite a nice discovery for anyone who comes over all dreamy at the idea of walking in footsteps (guilty), but there is no space here for anything larger than a small cradle. Anne left England for France between the ages of 9 to 12 – history is confused as to when she was born – and once back in England as a grown woman she resided mainly at court. This being a room for a baby is a plausible theory and would explain the size – even the small doubles of the era would have made walking in the room difficult.

Following this there is a large room with artwork and objects, including Anne’s Book of Hours. Apparently this is one she wrote in but the people who decided what should go where didn’t think much about the, sadly silly, positioning of a plaque talking of Anne’s writing alongside a book that was open on a different page. This is a great pity and I for one hope that it will be changed. After this room there is another in which hangs the portraits of Katherine Howard (contested) and Henry VIII’s brother, Prince Arthur.

There is another hallway before you reach a couple of other Tudor bedrooms. One of these you can walk around freely; it contains original 1500s furniture. There is a tiny chapel in this room, which has been closed off, but you can look through the glass. The second room sports even grander furniture, and it is reported that Henry VIII stayed there. Likely when he decided to follow a hesitant Anne back to Hever and stalk her. Christian Grey has nothing on him.

Up a staircase, and if it weren’t such an old house you might be allowed to run – you’ve reached the Long Gallery, wood panelled as the rest and flaunting an awesome ceiling. Most of what’s here is replica artwork and mannequins of the royals. Enjoy it; it’s the last decorated Tudor room on the route.

Along another hallway, high in the eves, are quaint little rooms the Astors designed for their children when the ground floor flooded. These are followed by the “Astor Suite”. Modernity reigns here and the Astor story is told in a beautiful panelled room with green carpet. It is one of emigration, war and money, but as this report is about Tudor history I will leave it there.

The very last room to see is of stone, and filled with execution implements. You reach it via another spiral and, if you look up whilst you walk there, you’ll spot a room above with a high ceiling. One can’t help but wonder if it was a great hall of sorts.

Down more stairs and you’re back in the courtyard, having travelled a route that took you right the way round the building. You might not have had access to every section, but given the size and age of the castle, the owners and staff haven’t been ungenerous, and you can tell that unlike many other houses, you have likely seem most of it. You can’t look around the Astor Tudor-styled accommodation buildings but you are allowed near enough that your average optical zoom camera can capture some pretty pictures. And whilst the remaining gardens are hardly bathed in flowers they are nice enough.

Hever was not the huge castle I was under the impression and hoping it was. It wasn’t the sort of grandeur home I would have expected the Boleyns to live in. What Hever turned out to be was everything I didn’t know I wanted. I fell in love with the place and even those few hours in the grounds, and hour in the castle, made me incredibly fond of it. It truly is a home, and there is a uniqueness to it I’ve not found elsewhere. Whether it was a happy place for Anne I doubt not, despite the constant scheming that must have gone on there considering Thomas, Mary, and Anne’s positions at court.

And despite the fact that it’s old, that there are plenty more grand places, and despite that there may be ghosts, if you were to ask me now where I would live given any choice in the world, I would say Hever without hesitation.

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Please note this is an image-laden post. Netley Abbey was built during the medieval period and changed into a manor house after the Henrican Reformation, before being somewhat demolished by builders in the 1700s needing materials. It stands today as it was left.

As a historian who gravitates to old buildings, I rarely pass up an opportunity to tick another site off my list. This list is courtesy of Wikipedia’s page of all the castles in England, however I am of course aware that there is more to history than buildings where fornication was rife and falsehood the key skill to acquire. Therefore you will find me at religious houses too. It is impossible to be ignorant of the fact that sexual intercourse and pretence went on at Christian establishments just as much as at castles, but the context for Christian buildings brings a completely different outlook for the modern visitor, even if the buildings being in ruins renders all sites similar in appearance.

I would love to tell you that I travelled to Netley in earnest, enthralled by stories of the building’s life from monastery to country house to victim of a need for architectural materials, but I can’t. I travelled to Netley on a whim because I was bored and there was the promise of ice cream.

When you arrive at the Abbey the view is quite something. The car park is tiny and the Abbey right in front of you, open to exploration. Indeed the entire site is free to access which means you can wander around at leisure. There are a few fenced-off areas for safety reasons, such as stairs that now lead only to the sky, and a barrier to stop you falling into what was either a sewage gutter or urinal. Whichever it is, ancient or not, I’m glad the remnants of people’s banquets have been cordoned off.

On entering the partially roofless building you find yourself in what was likely the foyer. A few steps further and you are in the cloister. The cloister is especially beautiful and whilst it may be in ruins, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the quad at King’s College, Cambridge. From all parts of the Abbey the centre section is visible, the section being worth a mention because although there is no access to it, it exists as though unchanged. I envy the bird that can nest in the top room, and take back my envy immediately on remembering that envy is a sin and I am in an Abbey. I don’t want the spirit of the dark monk to discover it.

Ghosts. It is said that the Abbey has two, the other being a white soul who only appears to those who don’t believe in spirits. I suppose that’s why I didn’t see him, as while I’ve never seen a ghost, I am a believer.

In the east wing there are a few rooms, including one that appears to be a dining or meeting room. There is also the priest’s changing room or small chapel – the plaque says one thing but the presence of a raised platform had me opposing the idea. This is surely what I should be doing as a historian, providing debate albeit in my head, and I am loathed to concede to those who have been studying history for many more years and have far more knowledge than I have. What can I say? Prior reading has shown me that those with sketchy evidence get their books published.

Next you enter the church itself, an illustrious hall that, although in tatters, retained from the 1700s demolition team its four walls and huge window. Whilst it may not feel much like a church any more, the visuals are still there and standing in the hall you can easily imagine it being used for mass. The height of the room, shown by the intact walls, is incredible. It’s difficult not to wonder how many may have died building it.

It is in this hall that an information board stands, telling you that Jane Austen visited the ruins. Austen seems to turn up everywhere I go lately, it’s like I’m following in her footsteps. If I could follow her footsteps to eternal best-seller status that would be brilliant although I doubt it will go that far – she would likely leave me once I declared that I was a staunch supporter of the House of Lancaster. The sign says Austen took inspiration from Netley for Northanger Abbey. Believe it if you will, I’m under the impression that that’s wishful thinking.

Just when you think you’ve viewed it all, a walk through the wall (or rather the gap in it, but that doesn’t sound as clever) and a stroll eastwards reveals to you a small house. This, even more so than the chapel with the roof still on it, has the potential to take your breath away. The ceiling of the ground floor is unbroken, constructed of arches and small stone bricks. Although the furniture has long gone and the walls are past their best, the effect is powerful. You are walking in the supposed house of the abbot and by God it feels as such. I cannot remember standing in a place as well preserved as this and want to do it all over again. I wonder if the dark monk cast a spell on me, enthralling me to come back to his lair.

Throughout the Abbey and abbot’s house “graffiti” is the word of the day. Everyone and their dog has scratched their name into the stones, from a professional-looking 1800s engraving, to the infamous “I woz ere” of the 21st Century. “It’s sacrilege,” said the person I was with. Maybe, but it is adding to the history and the open access allows the Abbey to remain in use. And you can’t help but be awed by the etchings of a pompous Victorian.

I loved Netley Abbey, the beauty amongst the sorrow, the destruction by the tyrannical Henry VIII, the romantic notions of poets in a place their grandfathers had deemed good substance for structural work. I didn’t find spirituality here as I’d expected but I did find a place that I would return to daily if I could.

It’s wonderful to know that the Abbey is still used, not just by people as a place to hang out after work (the wine cellar here would have been bigger than your local pub’s), but also as a wedding venue and for Christian worship. Long may people find the sense of history they seek here.

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