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This lovely little article originates from our Winter 1999 newsletter:

Bells are part of our culture, and references abound:- ‘Ding-dong bell, Pussy’s in the well’, ‘Great Tom is cast…’, ‘…for whom the bell tolls’, ‘the sunken bells of lost Atlantis ring’, to name but a few.

The sound of bells was more common in medieval England than today; calling people to services, to work or play, to wake or sleep, or put out their fires in their thatched homes at curfew (couvre-feu, ‘cover the fire’) in the evening. Bells were rung at baptisms, weddings, funerals and festivals; for joy, sorrow and emergencies. People believed clanging bells drove away the evil spirits of storms, and Spalding Church records show ringers were paid three pence for ‘ringing when the tempest was’.

At Claughton, Lancs., a bell survives bearing the date 1296, and even older ones remain; the earliest were long and narrow in shape. In the 17th century, improvements in hanging and tuning bells to a musical scale led to change-ringing (unknown outside England).

Molten bell-metal, an alloy of copper and tin, was poured into moulds lined with cow or horse manure (still used today) at the foundry. The bells often carry beautiful lettering, inscriptions, names, foundry marks; things of great interest and beauty but rarely seen. The great frames on which bells were hung in the bell-tower were designed and constructed by expert carpenters using massive oak timbers, hand-sawn, split, adzed and joined together with mortice and tenon joints secured by one inch oak pegs.

At the dawn of the 21st century, belling ringing was given a tremendous boost by the prospect of ringing in the millennium. All over England, foundries were casting new bells, bell-hangers were improving existing bells and hung new ones, and new recruits were trained in the art of bell ringing. There are 5000 churches in England with 5 or more bells, and Southwell Minster has 13! But let us not forget the little villages; at Headon-cum-Upton there is just one bell, although two were recorded in 1740. The inscription should read ‘CUM VOCO VENITE’ (‘come when I call’) but the last word is spelt ‘VENITI’ and some of the Gothic capital letters are placed sideways or upside down. The bell is thought to be late 16th century, but the magnificent two-bay frame may be earlier.

This articles comes from our Winter 1998 newsletter:

Imagine being dressed in your smartest regalia, out for a stroll after a large Sunday roast, surveying your fine territory and gardens, when, oops, looking out across the well-cut lawns, you stumble, lose your footing and fall flat, while your friends and family around you have a good giggle at your expense. This could be the fate for anyone walking along in a garden ever since the turn of the eighteenth century, and the wicked culprit – the ha-ha.

The first ha-has were seen in England during the late seventeenth century and regarded as a way of seeing the garden landscape as well as the wilderness beyond it, where landscape architecture was becoming a rising feature of the well-to-do and their gardens. Whereas garden walls would restrict the prospect of what a person could see across the land, the ha-ha was viewed as something which wouldn’t limit what the eye could see and gave an awakening to sensations and curiosity where, according to the inventors of the ha-ha, Bridgman and Eyres – Royal Gardeners of Chiswick Park, variety and concealment were the pre-requisites of the art of landscape.

‘The destruction of walls for boundaries and the invention of fosses – an attempt then deemed so astonishing that the common people called them Ha! Has! to express their surprise at finding a sudden and unperceived check to their walk’ – Horace Walpole, ‘The History of the Modern Taste on Gardening’.

In reality, the sunken ditch of the ha-ha was used to separate the lawns from the working meadows and fields, though leaving the view of the entire countryside to the eye, while keeping the animals, i.e. the deer and the stock including the cows, out of the gardens. Normally the garden side of the ditch was vertical, faced with brick or stone, while the outer side of the ditch sloped up gently to the normal level of the ground, leaving the view of the countryside beyond free and unhindered.

Nottinghamshire has many examples of ha-has, some date from the early eighteenth century through to the late nineteenth century that have listed building status. They range from 150m long at Shireoaks Hall to over 800m long at Wollaton Hall;1m high at Brackenhurst Hall to up to 3m tall at Kelham Hall; made of bricks at Norwood Park to stone at Stanford Hall; and often incorporating other features of landscape architecture, such as fountains at Hardwick Terrace to gates at Scofton Church.

This wonderful articles comes from our Spring 2001 newsletter:

It was the ‘gret myte water flodes’ which in 1495 were recorded to have destroyed Newark Castle Bridge. Similarly, in recent times, we have experienced many destructive floods in the county. Media hype tends to portray floods as freak events when in reality they are a quite usual, albeit devasting, occurrence.

It was in 1336, for example, while riding through the fields of Hoveringham on a crippled horse (which would have been a disadvantage at the best of times), that the unfortunate Robert Glover met his untimely death when the ‘waters of the Trent having greatly overflowed, he could not see his way and fell into a certain hole and was drowned’. The flood of 1795 was recorded as ‘the greatest flood ever remembered by the oldest person living’, ‘so awful, so sudden a visitation, worked upon the feelings of all descriptions of people; the rich and the poor, in different places, were all alike involved in the general catastrophe’.

Above: The peak levels of major floods are recorded at Trent Bridge; against this we can see just how high the water rose in November 2000 during a flood.

As these historical accounts suggest, flooding of the Trent has always happened. We also have a growing body of archaeological evidence for these episodes stretching back into the distant past.

When the Trent floods over its banks it leaves silty deposits stranded beyond the river when the water retreats. Layers of this material, called alluvium, have been found at several sites. At Besthorpe quarry, excavations have dated these to suggest a period of flooding in the middle Bronze Age, while at the Roman town of Segelocum at Littleborough, at least two phases of flooding and river deposits have been found interleaved between phases of Roman building.

The Trent also has more severe but less frequent ‘catastrophic’ floods that can be of sufficient force to alter the course of the river. This leaves behind a series of redundant river channels, called palaeochannels, and these have yielded interesting evidence of flooding. At Colwick Hall quarry, a palaeochannel was found to contain numerous large tree trunks which would seem to have been uprooted and deposited in successive huge floods. These have been dated by dendrochronology (tree rings) to the Neolithic period (approx. 5000-2500 BC). At Langford quarry, human remains dating to the late Neolithic have also been found in a palaeochannel. These were either the victims of a flood or the water washed out remains from a burial site.

Archaeological evidence of flooding can also be seen in man’s reaction to these events. One human response to something so devasting is to call upon the mercy of the Gods. It is argued that the sudden increase in deposits of Bronze Age metalwork found in river silts may be evidence of these kind of appeals. A more practical response can be found in the system of major and minor flood defences. These were built to protect towns, villages and farmland and could have a significant impact on the local landscape. Unfortunately, many of these features remain undated.

Archaeological and historical accounts not only help us understand flooding in the past, but can be used to draw useful anecdotes as part of an informed and effective modern-day approach to this phenomenon.

This educational article comes from our Spring 2002 newsletter:

In the late 1950’s, local authorities around the country were faced with the task of providing large numbers of new public buildings to cater for the growing local populations. There was a greater demand for primary schools at this date than at any other time in the 20th century and in Nottinghamshire, many areas experienced rapid urban growth as a result of the coal mining industry.

‘CLASP’ buildings were the result, it stands for 'Consortium of Local Authorities Special Programme' and was in essence a collaboration between the architects of county authorities. Nottinghamshire County Council’s architects took a lead role from the outset, and in particular, Henry Swain led the way with new and innovative designs that answered the many demands they faced. These buildings had to be built quickly, to a high quality and within a tight budget. They were also faced with a considerable technical problem caused from mining subsistence, which the new buildings needed to be able to withstand. The solution up until then had been to use massive concrete foundations, but these tended to break-up under the pressure.

Henry Swain and his colleagues’ solution was revolutionary. They designed a lightweight steel frame that clipped and bolted together, with large panels between. These buildings were laid on foundations of sand so that if a wave of mining subsistence passed underneath, the building moved gently to accommodate it, as if surfing over the top. All the components were designed to be easily prefabricated allowing mass production and keeping costs down.

At the time, this CLASP system was acknowledged by experts for its innovation and was used throughout the country to great effect. CLASP technology won a number of Royal Institute of British Architects awards and Henry Swain’s contribution was acknowledged internationally with the Hold Medal at the Milan Triennale in 1960.

Henry Swain was the Deputy County Architect from 1958 and then County Architect from 1964-68, during which time he was also the vice-president of RIBA in 1967/68. He died in Nottinghamshire in January 2002, aged 77. His legacy of public buildings are all around us and make an important contribution to Nottinghamshire’s communities. Many people work, socialise, and learn in them every day.

Examples of CLASP schools can be seen in Ollerton, Carlton (Frank Wheldon), Bingham (Toothill), East Retford (King Edward VI), Skegby, Arnold (Redhill), Mansfield (Berry Hill). Health centres and other buildings include: Mansfield Health Centre (St John’s Street); County Hall extension, West Bridgford (the County Council’s own HQ); South Manor, Ruddington; Sherwood Lodge Police HQ; The Sutton Centre, Sutton-in-Ashfield. There are many more CLASP buildings across the county. To find more records, search 'CLASP' in our search bar here and look for the records that say 'Building'.

This fantastic article comes from our Spring 2000 Heritage Newsletter:

When King John died in Newark Castle in 1216, the cause was believed to have been his overindulgence in a favourite food – lampreys. He was not the only king to have enjoyed the dish, Henry I reputedly died of a ‘surfeit of lampreys’ in 1135. Lampreys were a Medieval delicacy. The ones on which John feasted will have come from the river Trent, one of the few places in the country where they could be caught in abundance. They remained a Nottinghamshire delicacy for centuries but are now little known.

The lamprey looks like an eel. Its mouth is a round sucker. It has one nostril on the top of its head, seven round gills on either side of its head, and a pair of eyes. The gills and nostril when viewed from the side look like eyes, hence the creature’s Nottinghamshire name of the ‘nine eyed lomper’.

Two species of lamprey may be found in the Trent, the river lamprey which grows to about 30cm long, and the brook lamprey, shorter at 15cm. The river lamprey is a parasite of freshwater fish on to which it hooks with its strong sucker-like mouth and ring of sharp teeth. It will also feed on carrion. The adult brook lamprey does not feed at all. Anglers rarely notice the fish because they are not often caught with rod and line. Traditionally, the lampreys were netted or caught in baskets during their spring migration up stream where they went to spawn and then die. The weir at Averham was a favourite place for catching the lampreys, and sometimes they may be spotted there, hanging on to stones with the suckers of their mouths, tails streaming like a ribbon in the current.

While the deaths of both kings were ascribed at the time to their excessive fondness for the fish, other reasons are possible. Henry I was 67 when he died, old by the standards of the time. Only a few days before John reached Newark, he suffered the disastrous loss of his baggage train whilst travelling across the Wash, and his death may be a consequence of this accident. However, the specific mention of lampreys suggests that both kings had been presented with the delicacy shortly before they died. Lampreys live in unpolluted water. Where they are taken from polluted rivers, they can carry harmful bacteria. Could the Medieval fishermen of Newark have prepared a treat for the king, only to inadvertently kill him with food poisoning?

Above: River lamprey (By Tiit Hunt - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0).

Lampreys can be prepared in a number of different ways; stewed, potted, or baked into pies, but frying makes them tough and chewy. They may be treated as eels. Here is a recipe to try;

Lamprey Pie:

• 1-2 Lampreys
• 150g Lincolnshire sausage meat
• Salt and Pepper
• Packet puff pastry
• Juice of a lemon
• Parsley
• Nutmeg
• 1 shallot, finely chopped
• 200ml Bechamel Sauce

Cut the lampreys into pieces 5cm long. Line an oven proof dish with half of the puff pastry. Cover the bottom of the dish with the sausage meat. Cover with the lampreys. Add a pinch of salt, pepper, a little nutmeg, the shallot, lemon juice and a good sprinkling of chopped fresh parsley. Cover the pie with the rest of the pastry and bake until the top has risen and pale golden. Remove from the oven and through the vent pour the Bechamel sauce. Return to the oven for 5-10 minutes. Serve immediately.

Whatever the truth behind the mystery of John’s death, this is certainly a dish fit for a king!