Hey Blog! On Friday morning, I received a book of Christmas carol sheet music in my advent calendar, which inspired me to write about these festive tunes!
Who doesn’t love a carol? Well, Scrooge obviously, but apart from him? Sitting down after a huge Christmas dinner letting the pudding go down, with carols on in the background and being able to sing along is a wonderful feeling to experience. They are a staple of modern Christmas traditions, and have existed for hundreds of years. The idea of singing to show celebration is an idea as old as human beings, and all cultures have songs for festivities, but the journey of the modern Christmas carol is a more identifiable story.
‘Carol’ actually means a type of dance. ‘Carol’ the type of song began as the tune you danced a carol to, and over time with blurring etymology, the same word was used for both and then only the tune. Some carols, like The Holly and the Ivy are ancient indeed, so old no one can remember who wrote them or when – and very probably this was before Christmas was even celebrated. Others, such as Hark the Herald Angels Sing, are comparatively modern, written in the 1800s. And in the future, perhaps very modern songs, for instance Last Christmas I gave you my Heart could also feature on this timeless list. Actually, wait, it already does…
The carols people hear today are generally recorded versions, or perhaps you hear them at church or a Christmas concert. The tradition of carol singers is dying out – which unfortunately kind of invalidates the second verse of We wish you a Merry Christmas – and unless you are a singer or learn an instrument most people don’t participate in making the music of carols. I am lucky and have a piano, which, when Christmas is in the air (even though I’m not walking in it) or it’s a silent night, I can just start to play. And if you listen and find your mind drifting away in a manger or reminiscing about once when you went to royal David’s city, or look out the window and see, amid the winter snow that there’s a robin on the bird table, and then the clock will strike ding dong, merrily on high to say it’s time to go to bed, and of course the only thing to say is “God rest ye merry gentlemen!” before snuggling under the covers. But then of course you’ll wake up and realise that it’s come upon a midnight clear and it’s actually boxing day by now!
Christmas carols are important because they bring families and friends together. Just like I believe Santa not to be one person but the idea of the Christmas spirit of giving, Christmas is made up of community and enjoyment – all positive things, and if a melody can help – then turn on the carols!
Hey Blog! On Wednesday I went to York to see a film, so I’ll tell you about that this week!
The film was called If only I could hibernate – an appropriate title for this time of year when we all are slowing down and getting ready for winter. If only I could hibernate – but then we’d miss Christmas. Big problem. However, if you are living in the poorer parts of Ulaanbaatar, capital of Mongolia, and it’s -40° as the norm, and you have no heating, then the advantages of hibernating are even more obvious. This is the situation the family in the film are in – living in a traditional style ger, without coal for the fire, and little food, with a genius brother who keeps winning physics competitions but is forced to drop out of lessons to provide fuel and food for the family. A rather brilliant setting for a film but a sad position for a family to be in – thankfully this is a film not a true story! The film focuses on the conflict of family life – to stay in the city and get an education, but get little money and be exposed to air pollution; or to go to the countryside, where you might get a job but be unable to learn at an institution where you can get the best quality education.
The film was entirely in Mongol, which is a language I unfortunately don’t speak, so I had to use the subtitles. I was intending to learn a few words during the film, but I had forgotten them by the time we came out of the cinema. Mum is luckier and can speak some basic Mongol – enough to get around – and apparently remembers it enough to understand what the film was saying in places. I might have to check if it’s available on Duolingo… [Ed./ Mum: Sadly not.]
The thing which attracted us to this particular film, among the film festival ongoing at the moment, was the fact that it is set in Mongolia – the country my parents met in, in fact, even though they were both there from the UK. Mongolia has a unique culture – it is sandwiched between Russia and China, and is mostly steppe landscape. It also has a long history, dating back to Genghis Khan, the founder of the Mongol Empire which covered all Asia from China to Turkey, from Siberia to India. The Mongols were the greatest army in the world at the time, and had they carried on into Europe, it is likely the world would speak Mongol. There was, however, one small problem – they don’t do well with boats, as proved in the attempted invasion of Japan. This is probably the only time they actually suffered a bad defeat. However, the Mongol Empire was short-lived – after a brief succession of Great Khans, the massive empire acquired by Genghis dwindled and was incorporated into China, the Indian Mughals, and some smaller kingdoms on the Arabian Peninsula. However the legacy is clear – a common Indian surname is Khan, from the Mongol chiefs; Yuan, the dynasty Kublai Khan founded in China, is still the Chinese currency; and the poem In Xanadu did Kublai Khan by Coleridge is a potent memory of the idea of the majesty of the “Far East”.
I won’t tell you the outcome, that would spoil the excitement – however, I will say it does not fully resolve, so there might be another some day. In the meantime, I must say баяртай! *
Hey Blog! This week it snowed for the first time this winter, and therefore I thought I’d talk about why it sometimes snows and sometimes is 40° – this is a brief summary of the seasons!
Unless you are currently straddling the equator in which case you have two seasons at once (technically speaking…), one on each side, or living in London, at which point you reputedly experience four seasons in one day; you probably have a general idea of the seasons. Either Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, or else Wet and Dry – depending on whether you live in the tropics or in temperate zones. Because I live in England, I usually experience the former, so I’ll tell you about that.
The whole business with seasons is all about Earth’s tilt. This is an odd cosmic fact – the Earth is not level, right way up, or spinning flat like a top, it is in fact slightly tilted, spinning steadily but at an odd angle. If you mark a ball on opposite sides and hold it on these dots at an angle, then move around it, you will see that the top half and bottom half get closer and then further away, depending on the angle you are to the tilt. This is exactly what happens with Earth – parts of the planet get alternately closer and farther away – but the difference in distance is not the primary factor. Instead, it is light.
You might think light is not too hot, not enough to cause the seasons, surely; but this is not just an LED bulb in the ceiling. This is cosmic radiation, made from fusing hydrogen into helium and heavier elements in the heart of a star – our sun – and releasing enormous amounts of energy through nuclear fusion, a process which relies on a number of Scientific Laws. This energy is released as radiation – the electromagnetic spectrum, which is basically all the wavelengths of light, even those we can’t see. While most of the harmful, high-power radiation is blocked by our wonderful atmosphere, the rest shines upon our planet and powers the world.
This light, combined with the tilt, combined with the atmosphere, means during summer, when part of the earth is pointing towards the sun, the light hits it full on. Passing through a thinner layer of atmosphere means that the wave still heats Earth when it reaches it; but on the other side, where the atmosphere is thicker, the light takes longer to pass and looses more energy, meaning the earth is cooler there. This means while it’s summer in one hemisphere, it’s winter in the other, and when it’s spring in one, it’s autumn in the other. But what about the poles? Because they are so far north and south, they have such a thick atmosphere separating them and the sun, so they are always cold. Even worse, the sun is hidden behind the rest of the earth for half the year, meaning once winter comes, the poles will not see the sun for six months. Correspondingly, the other pole will not see the sun set for those six months!
While this explains the seasons, it doesn’t explain the weather. This is more tricky. Weather is ultimately based on the wind, and that is caused by two things – heat and Earth’s spin. Because Earth is always spinning, it causes a disturbance around it in the atmosphere. This is called the Coriolis Force, and is what causes hurricanes. It is rumoured to be what causes honey to twizzle and the water to go down the toilet in a spiral – however, this is incorrect, because there simply isn’t enough time or material for the Coriolis Force to take effect in these instances. Heat, on the other hand, is once more caused by the sun – the driving engine for Earth’s systems – and is related to pressure. Once a body of air has got hot, it rises, thus allowing cold air to come and take its place. This inflow is the other cause of wind. Such a lot for weather forecasters to take into account! Subtle changes such as these are what cause both snow and heatwaves, which just shows how fine the balance truly is!
Seasonal change means that people and animals around the world experience different weather and climate at different times of the year, which means they follow the seasonal cycle. Some people see this cycle as a reflection of life, others as a reflection of time. I see it as just how nature is, naturally, and we shouldn’t mess with it – putting too many chemicals into the air and changing the climate will ruin this balance, on which everything depends, so if there is one lesson to learn from nature, it is not to change the balance that has worked for millions of years – nature has tested and retested, and is far stronger than mankind. Respect nature!
Currently, the Northen Hemisphere is going into winter, which means it’s time to get the woolly jumpers out and put on an extra pair of socks. Oh, and drink lots of hot chocolate, stoke up the fire, and get ready for Christmas or whichever midwinter festival you choose to celebrate. Have fun!
Hey Blog! This last Sunday was Remembrance Day, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to tell you what it is and what it’s about.
The story starts some time in 1918. World War I is raging; countless battles have been fought, and millions lie dead in Europe. The blockade on Axis Germany by the Allied Powers (the UK, France, and the USA, which was recently brought into the war) is holding, and there are growing calls for an end to the violence. Riots start; hyperinflation goes crazy, and the soldiers on the Front are angry for fighting a hopeless war. Eventually, some military chiefs decide to intervene, and, without the Kaiser (German equivalent to King, derived from Roman Caesar), settle an end – to stop fighting at 11, 11, 11. The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. This armistice and subsequent treaties which hoped to put a stop to violence, calling it “the war to end all wars”, brought to an end a four-year conflict which had spread from one assassination to a global, full-scale, devastating and deadly war. Ultimately, this did not succeed, and within the framework of the treaties set up after the war were the seeds of an even greater conflict, where a new enemy – fascism – would cause the greatest war in history. But WWI’s end was still a blessing for the world, which was reeling from the cost, in all aspects of life and society, of the Great War.
In memory of the armistice, Armistice Day was set up, an annual repeat of the first one in 1918 when all celebrated the end of the war. This evolved into a day of remembrance for all conflicts, past and present, and specifically for those who died during them. Traditionally, the Last Post is played, poems are read, and the two minute silence is held, signalling respect for those who fell. Poppies are worn – this comes from two poems which mention poppies, which were common flowers along the Western Front; but in France people apparently wear cornflowers!
The ceremony closest to me is attended by local dignities, representatives of the military, youth organisations like Cadets, Scouts, and Guides, and the public. I go to it as part of Explorers, which is the best place to stand because you get to see everything as you’re both close to the middle and tall, and then the older sections, me included, march round to the church for a service. After that it’s a short march round the town and back to the Memorial Gardens, after which the congregated attendees dissipate back home. It’s a very poignant time, which is important to remember – this is the only knowledge we have, and my generation will likely be the last which can talk to those with living memory of the world wars, and should it be forgotten there is nothing which will remind us to prevent another. Lest We Forget.
Hey Blog! Last post was about me leading the Beavers’ archaeology session, and this one is also about the same initiative – the Derbyshire Scout Archaeology Badge. But the one I attended last Saturday, I attended as a participant, not a leader. It was with the Youth Committee, which meets twice a year, and at this one we were testing some activities for the upcoming experimental archaeology camp which is happening next summer. So I thought I’d tell you what it was all about!
Experimental archaeology is a particular branch of archaeology where instead of looking backwards from the front end of history to try and find the evidence of what people did in the past, we look forwards from the back of history to try and work out how they did the things they did. For instance, Mr. Future Archaeologist could look at a modern tyre track and go, “Hmmm! They had these round things with patterns on them which they used to transport goods and people! Perhaps the different tyre pattens stood for different tribes! I must make a study of the distribution of tyre tracks, pass me the laser scanner please.” But his colleague might say, “No, prof, these are tyre tracks. They used a substance called rubber to make them, and I haven’t quite worked out the method of production yet. But they didn’t have tribes by the time these were used.” The first would be a field archaeologist, the second an experimental archaeologist. The difference is that the experimental archaeologist experiments to create the historical technique, rather than finding evidence. Next year’s camp will be a chance for us to practice thinking outside the box and rediscover past skills, one of which we had a chance to try on Saturday. This is rope making.
People in the past didn’t have the things which we use to make our lives simpler and more leisurely. Instead of using hot glue, welding, dovetail joints or sticky tape to put things together, they could use a form of glue (made of bones and fish scales, mixed with resin and other substances – sticky, and probably very smelly), or they could tie things together with string (made of sinew, guts, leather, nettle, or tree bark). We know they used these things as we have found the evidence, for example a several thousand year old imprint of a piece of string, which had been dropped on the floor and trodden on, inlaying its trace in the clay for someone in a time beyond their understanding to observe in a cave and realise its significance. We also have their midden heaps, which show they were catching fish with fishing lines as well as traps and spears.
I have told you about my love of knots before. Check my archive for a post on this. I suspect the prehistoric rope makers most likely knew more knots than we do today, and for more purposes – if we had to catch our own dinner, we might know more on this subject! However, it’s rather difficult to make the string to tie the knots with, if you don’t know how it’s done. If you looked at a piece of paracord or yarn, you might realise it’s made of other, finer, threads, but what if you can’t make any thread at all? If you looked under a microscope, you might see tiny fibres running down the fine threads, and if you looked closer still, you might see the individual strands of cellulose molecules which form them. However, you still might not be able to work out how it’s done. To start with, you need a plant.
Nettle, Lime (not the fruit-producing tree, the British kind), Willow, or Wych Elm work well. To start with, take the bark off the trees, and scrape the papery outer bark and the darker green pith off. For nettle, smash the woody bits of the stem and, by cracking and peeling, remove them. For either plant, you should be left with a strip of tough, pale green or yellow sinuous substance, which you bend in the middle, and twist both sides clockwise, a little at a time. The two strands will twist together, forming a single, two-ply thread of various thickness depending on the width of the individual ply. Keep twisting, carefully, and if one end runs out, add a second piece of prepared bark like a splice to make the tread longer. With practice, very fine cord, a millimetre in thickness, can be achieved – this is at least as strong as a comparable cord of modern make, besides lasting for several years of use. It’s quite a handy skill to have, and next time I am stuck with no hope of rescue, a need for a piece of sturdy string, a patch of nettles, and a long time to make things with, I know exactly what to do!
There are other fields of archaeology (pun intended) but experimentation is one of my favourites, as it allows you to reinvent the wheel, almost – except that you didn’t know how the wheel was made in the first place. Actually, how did they invent the wheel, I wonder?!
Hey Blog! On Tuesday I led my first session at Beavers, and since it went very well I thought I’d tell you all about it!
The Derbyshire Scout Archaeology Badge is a badge which I am familiar with. It is a new badge, set up by Morgause Lomas, an archaeologically minded Scout with a lockdown on her hands and a realisation that there was no badge in Scouting for archaeology. This first idea has grown into a campaign of annual digs or camps, such as the Willesley dig this summer, a Youth Committee (of which I am a member) and team of helpers, my Mum among them.
If you follow my posts, you will probably remember that I am in Explorers and also a Young Leader. This is a special category, where you are not an adult leader, but attend a younger section to help with sessions and get some practice leading groups. I help with the Beavers (aged 6-8) at my former group, which is nice as it means I have been in every section – Beavers (as a Young Leader), Cubs, Scouts, and Explorers. I’m not counting Squirrels as they didn’t exist when I joined. Being a Young Leader has mostly been attending, keeping the Beavers entertained and together if we’re out and about, and occasionally running one or two games. However, I realised the potential of leading a session for them to gain their DSA badge, and with some help, I persuaded both Morgause to help teach me how to run the session and the leaders to give me a night to run it.
I met with Morgause beforehand to discuss the running of the session and also helped at an archaeology session at another group to get some practice. I worked out the basic plan, ran that through, and practiced the words to say and the equipment to use. The Derbyshire Scout Archaeology team has five sandboxes with hidden finds such as pottery shards, buttons and coins, a set of trowels, and an immense amount of resources, so I had everything I needed to run the session. So when I went out on Tuesday night, I had everything waiting in the Scout Hut for me to use as I had dropped them off the previous night.
The session went well. The first step is to spell archaeology – it’s an 11-letter word, so for 6-year-olds it’s very long! Then, I talked them through what archaeology is, and next, set them up drawing things they thought were archaeology. After a guide to the different tools used by archaeologists, I split them into three groups and ran a carousel of jigsaws, Lego, and a go at ‘digging’ in the boxes. It wasn’t too hard; all I needed help with was running two of the three simultaneous activities, keeping the Beavers listening, and with the timings. I was impressed with how well I handled it, and I would love to do more in future! I’m planning a second session so that my Beavers can complete their badge, and apparently I might be top of the list for the people Morgause is thinking of passing the badge on to!
Hey Blog! Very short post today. This week I’ve been catching up on science, so I thought I’d tell you about it!
As you probably know, I was in France a couple of weeks ago. This meant that I missed a few science classes I’m doing, so I have had to catch them up. I haven’t quite finished, however, I have done some things, so I’ll tell you what I’ve done.
There are traditionally three disciplines of science: Biology (the study of living things), Chemistry (the study of chemicals and substances), and Physics (the study of physical forms and forces). I think it would be better if they were taught together, as each contributes to the others. I have been learning all three, with a programme I have recently discovered, called South West Science. It is an amazing platform which gives a good coverage of iGCSE science, which I plan to take in 2026. I have covered seven weeks already, but I’m still catching up assignments from earlier weeks. (That reminds me – I need to do that assignment for week 6 that’s still on my desk!) however, from what I have done with it, it is absolutely amazing! It is comprehensive, concise, detailed, and fun. However, my favourite kind of science is practical: the experiments, the doing, and the use in real-life situations. I use it in woodturning, in making things, in my shed, and in climbing trees (though I don’t have to think about it when I’m half-way up a tree!). Sometimes I am in the middle of an activity and suddenly start thinking about the transitions between forms of energy, or I might be chatting with friends and suddenly come out with a random fact which links tenuously to something someone mentioned. This is why I am known, besides KitKat, as The Encyclopaedia. Yes, I love science!
Bonjour Blog! Continuing the French theme, I’ll be writing about breakfasts this week, and putting two of them head-to-head – in one corner, the mighty Full English, and in the other, the majestic Continental!
While in France, I had an average of around 1.5 breakfasts a day, not counting brunch or a cup of coffee on its own. I have now patronised a café in most of the major towns of Normandy, it seems. The stereotypical French breakfast is the espresso and croissant, sometimes with some beurre/butter and freshly squeezed jus d’orange/orange juice (which tastes AMAZING), and is a delicate mix of mostly caffeine and carbs. In truth, almost all the French breakfasts I had were exactly like that. Lunch was also delicious. It seems everything in France tastes awesome!
As for England – generally it’s one breakfast a day, with the stereotype being a large plate of sausage, bacon, hash browns, baked beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, fried bread, scrambled or poached egg, black pudding, and perhaps a small dish of brown sauce on the side, served with tea – a broad-brushed mix of carbs, oils, and meat. There is a lot of that available, and very tasty it is too. It’s also rather expensive to have it every day. Lunch and dinner have less nationalities attached to them than breakfast, it appears!
They each have various merits for me. I like the larger size of the English breakfast. However, it is quite rich; I have a policy of always clearing my plate so I simply decide to have a smaller lunch instead! The French breakfast is certainly more delicate and I love the variety of pastries (when they’re properly made only; many places in England make them dry, crusty and squishy), but then again, many places don’t make English breakfasts properly either. You probably know I simply cannot pick favourites, but I think the best thing for me to have is a light English (one bacon, one sausage, one hash brown, one poached egg) followed by a small plate of French (one croissant, one pain-au-chocolat, one cup of coffee) – that’s everything, thank you waiter!
Bonjour Blog! The Norman in Normandy has been explored, now some more recent history. WWII started 85 years ago, but that is still 6 times as long as I’ve been alive. Even if that isn’t very long and people still remember it. Normandy was on the front line for a large portion of the events in 1944, and as such still bears the scars.
Some background: Adolf Hitler, Chancellor of the German Reich, had started WWII by marching though Poland. He was a member of the Nazi party, an ultra-right wing fascist group, hated social misfits, believed the Jews were the cause of Germany’s problems, and spurned the Treaty of Versailles. By the declaration of war, a system of alliances through Europe and beyond was triggered, which caused an even bigger conflict than WWI, the so-called “war to end all wars”. France was overrun, and the small, puppetesque Vichy government was set up. Hitler set his eyes on Britain next, as it was the last major nation still fighting. However, the Japanese, allied to Germany, attacked the USA, which brought the US into the war. Out of paranoia and fear the Russians would go back on their word of nonaggression, Hitler attached eastwards as well as west. The Soviets retaliated. On the west, the German Luftwaffe failed to beat the RAF, and Britain, America, British Canada, and the few members of Free France in exile who joined, led by General de Gaulle, planned an invasion.
This is D-day. The plan composed was to land an invasion on the Normandy coast, sweep through France, and push back to Germany. A massive bombing campaign would clear the area, combined with parachutists, glider landers, and Free France undercover agents, to inhibit Nazi messages and allow Allied access to important sites. Then, the landings would take place, transporting an invasion force on to five beaches – codenamed Sword, Juno, Gold, Omaha, and Utah beaches. Floating harbours would allow supplies to be passed over, and with luck France would be swiftly liberated.
The whole campaign was planned meticulously. Nothing was left unprepared for (well, perhaps toilets in a few places!). So precise was it that one squadron arrived at their allotted rendez-vous only two minutes after time, even while being under fire and crossing several miles of enemy terrain. After the bombs dropped over Caen and other towns, parachutists dropped over Normandy countryside. Gliders also landed at Pegasus Bridge, the two bridges over the river and canal, right next to each other, where the 6th air division took and held the bridges. All of these simultaneous attacks managed to disorientate and confuse the Nazi command, which let the preparations for D-day succeed in their objective. Then, at dawn on 6th June 1944, the invasion force landed on the coast. German Panzer divisions moved to stop them, but were beaten back as the invasion grew. The British put pressure on the defending armies on the eastern beaches, almost breaking through and capturing Caen, but did not succeed for a month. Because of reinforcements there, the Americans on the western beaches managed to push further inland, liberating Bayeux (which became the capital of Free France until the liberation of Paris). Swinging round southwest, the entire Allied force took Caen, before pressing on out of Normandy towards Paris, Germany, and Berlin.
This story is told in the Mémorial de Caen, the Bataille de Normandie museum, the Pegasus Bridge museum, and many books. However, it is impossible to understand the true horror of WWII. There is too much trauma, terror, and horror in the activities of both sides, from concentration camps to atomic bombs, to know it as those lived it felt it. In particular, the Mémorial blew me away – I walked in, and by the time I walked out I felt I had, in experience terms, aged a year in the process. Normandy has all these relics, which speak of the history. Go if you can, as it must be remembered. There is so much more I could write about these places, but this will do: We will remember them.
Bonjour Blog! You might well have already guessed where I am, but if not – I’m in France! Caen in Normandy, to be precise – and I have been on a history tour of the local area, from the châteaux (castles) to les églises (churches) to the individual items that make up part of the eternal and infinite story that is history. Normandy’s story seems to be Norman castles interspersed with WWII tanks, which shouldn’t go together but do in Normandy! The name Normandy comes from its namesake inhabitants – the Normans – whose name in turn stems from “North-men” – the Vikings under Rollo who invaded northern France at the end of the first millennium. They gained the title “Dukes of Normandy”, and this powerful dynasty held Normandy until the 13th century, when, due to a series of defeats, Henry II and his sons went from the entire enormous Angevin Empire, one of the largest in Europe at the time, to just ruling England.
Of the history I have been learning so far, half is those WWII tanks and other historical artefacts and documents (next post), and half is the Norman castles. These are all in some way related to one incredible figure, in both French and English history. The royal man I am speaking of is Guillaume le Conquérant, William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy, King of England; the son of the brother of Emma of Normandy, wife of Knut; husband of Matilda of Flanders; William the Bastard and the only Frenchman ever to win a war with England, in the final time Britain would be overrun by invaders with fire and the sword.
1066 – the date is graven into the memory of all those who have studied any English history. For this reason it is one of the only two ‘memorable’ dates, that is, according to Sellar and Yeatman in 1066 and all that. The outline of the year is told on the Bayeux Tapestry, one of the most astounding artefacts and the first known comic strip. I certainly prefer it to the modern ones. It goes something like this.
King Edward the Confessor – “Hey, Harold Godwinson, go across the channel and tell William of Normandy I’ve decided he’s my heir. When I die, he’s king, ok?”
Harold – “Ok Ed I’ll go tell him”
(Harold gets a boat across the channel. The boat is shipwrecked, and the company is captured. William learns of this and ransoms Harold.)
William – “Ok Harold I hear Ed wants to make me king after he dies. Will you swear allegiance to me as your future king?”
Harold – “Sure!”
(William has prepared the table with the bones of saints to prevent Harold breaking his oath. Harold takes it, but does not intend to keep it – he quite likes the idea of being king. Once back in Britain…)
Edward – “You did it right?” (shortly after dies)
Harold – “Yeah. I did, and – wait – you’re dead. Oh goodie! That means I can be king now!”
(The Wittain parliament elect Harold king – they don’t like the idea of a foreigner ruling. William prepares for an invasion, to claim his crown.)
William (on arriving in England) – “I have taken possession of England and will defend it with my blood. Charge boys!”
(The Battle of Hastings. Harold gets hit in the eye with a Norman arrow, and dies. The Normans have won. On Christmas Day, William is crowned.)
It is a wonderful story, stitched in 10 dyes on a linen banner over 70 metres long and half a metre high with 58 known scenes and the most incredible detail in both the main narrative and the border panels, and certainly deserves its reputation and status as a Memory of the World artefact. There is an entire museum dedicated to it and its preservation, which we visited. Do visit it, because It. Is. Awesome! Commissioned by William’s half-brother Odo, it hung in Bayeux church for a month every year at first, before nearly being used as a tarpaulin in the French Revolution (but was saved just in time) and then used by Napoleon as propaganda before preparing to invade England – he failed, and was beaten at Trafalgar. After that, it was slowly forgotten and not known of professionally until the late 1800s. Quite an incredible story for a piece of needlework nearly a thousand years old!
We have also been to William’s Castle in Caen. Built under his orders, it is an impressive feat of stonework, and very beautiful – unfortunately the inside of it was literally blown to bits in WWII, by the bombers preparing Normandy for D-day operations (which is what next post is about!). It now houses the Normandy Museum, which tells you the entire story of Normandy from the neanderthals to the present day; and the Musée des Beaux-arts, which we didn’t visit. The complex is currently undergoing redevelopment so we couldn’t go around much, but from what I can see the few Norman bits left look good. There is another Norman castle, in far better condition, which we also went to see – this is Falaise castle, where William was born to Robert the Magnificent, Duke of Normandy, and Arlette, a tanner’s daughter. Hence why people called him “William the Bastard”. Then he must have made them all feel a bit stupid by conquering England, after which they called him “le Conquérant” instead. Bit funny, really – the monarchy in mediaeval and Tudor times was obsessed with legitimate sons, and yet they’re all descended from an illegitimate son of a tanner’s beautiful daughter and her local lord. The castle is situated on a natural hill overlooking the town (which is actually built inside what is effectively an outer bailey) and was fought over between the English and the French in the Hundred Years War, and then between the Allies and the Germans in WWII.
The French were ultimately victorious in both these wars, as the English lost the Hundred Years War and after a period of occupation, the Allies, including France, pushed the Nazis back. (The Germans had built an anti-tank gun on top of the tower in the meantime.) Falaise is one of the best castles I have ever been in – and I’ve been in lot – but then the English castles were all destroyed in the civil war by the parlimentarians to stop royalist uprisings, whereas the French were not. The rooms still stand though some of the floors are replaced and some damage during WWII has been repaired with concrete blocks. VR tablets are available, and there are scanner points around the castle to allow you to see how it would have been in William the Conqueror’s day. There are also projections which show the lords of Falaise, including William the Conqueror himself, his son Henry I who built the keep, and Philip Augustus the French king who took back all the French territories which other countries ruled. It is a magnificent testimony to the Norman Dukes and Kings, whose work is still standing.
Falaise castle!
Finally, in 1087, William the Conqueror died after being impaled on his saddle pommel. His death was rather gross as it involved a ruptured bowel, which did not please the noses of the monks who buried him! This burial was in the Abbey he founded – the Abbaye-aux-Hommes, in Caen; just round the corner from where were staying. Of course, we had to go and see. A slab with gold lettering proclaims his tomb – here lies William the Conqueror, Duke of Normandy, King of England. The Bastard, the Duke, the King, the Conqueror – what a story!
