Portchester

As previously mentioned my stay in Southampton was occasioned by the money from the house sale STILL not being in my bank account, and the subsequent failure to book expensive tickets on the ferry to the Isle of Wight. I therefore had to find other, cheaper pleasures. They presented themselves in a property of English Heritage called Portchester Castle, and what a gem that turned out to be! Roman wall, huge, multi-leveled keep and lots of sweet, sweet history!

The castle started life, as so many of these buildings did, as a Roman fort. Possibly built to defend against Saxon piracy, the area has also been important for the actual Roman invasion in AD 43, and the Portchester area has been an important harbor for centuries until silt began to clog it (again, like lots of other previously top harbors). Portchester Castle is now considered the best preserved Roman fortification north of the Alps, something of which I had no idea until I actually got there.

The audio guide was again a must and was presented by two "ghosts", one of whom was a frog Frenchman. This presented some comic relief as they told the history of the castle from Roman times, up through various Normanic and French invasions, and finally the Napoleonic Wars, in which the castle served as a prison for thousands of frogs French.

All Portchester pics here.

The keep.


Impressive building.


"You want us to attack and destroy THAT? Fuck that for a game o' soldiers."


A moat! A proper moat! REAL castles need a moat, just sayin'.


I noticed that lots of children were playing on the water's edge by the moat. That water is stagnant, kids. It is a cesspool of putrid, infectious disease and you're dipping your hands and feet into it. Yeah, be sure to get your whole hand in there, muahahahahahaaaa!


The bridge over the inner moat lead to the current ticket office. As I was about to step onto it I heard the ominous cooing of pigeons. They seemed to be saying 'Come on pal, we can shit on your head faster than you can say "flea ridden rats with wings"'.


The Roman walls - up to ten feet thick in places - ran around the whole castle area. Excavations and modern gadget shtuff has found evidence of further Roman settlements outside the walls.


Great view from the top of the keep. I've done some serious climbing this past week.


This crack, which ran the whole height of the keep made me hope that current British engineering has mastered the task of assessing risk. Then I thought of the one British engineer I know (hi Stef!), and began to cry.


During the Napoleonic wars, several levels of wooden floors were inserted into the mighty keep to fit in all the prisoners.


King Richard II spent so much money on building and refurbishing at Portchester that he had to raise taxes on the nobility to finance it all. So they turned against him, and his cousin Henry Bollingbrooke came to power as Henry IV instead, while poor Dickey died. Today, this is all that remains of Richard's once great hall.


The remains of a Roman guarded entrance in the wall. Beyond is the sea.

Ghost's revenge

Yesterday I installed myself in a small guest house in Southampton, and then proceeded to a pub for dinner. I ordered a pepperoni pizza and went outside to draw the fresh air. It was really quite wonderful to be in southern England yesterday - the sun was shining all day and it was still nice and warm out in the evening. Green grass, blue skies, people sitting around chatting, etc.

There was this guy with a vewy, vewy cute lil' Staffordshire puppy on a leash; more for her own protection than anything else. The little fella was high and low, her tail wagging constantly from side to side and her nose twitching with every new thing she found on the lawn (empty bags of chips, bottles, leaves, blades of grass). When I bent down to say hello, she slobbered all over my hands and her little body was doing that strange, little tap-dance dogs do when they're so happy to see you their tiny brains go into overload and stop sending messages to their feet.

I sat down at a table and waited. And waited. And waaaaiiiited. I'm normally a patient guy. Despite all my grumbling on this blog I'm very polite and nice to people and don't go around complaining and pushing people around. But when the clock hit 30 mins I got up and went inside and politely enquired about the status of my pizza. The barmaid who'd taken my order went to the kitchen and came back to inform me that it would be another five minutes, but "the chef would like to offer you a free dessert for your wait". Which is another way of saying "I fucked up. Sorry".

Finally the pizza arrived and it was standard pub fare. Nuthin' fancy or special, just solid grub. After finishing I went inside as it was now getting dark out. Now, when I'd first arrived there had been some decent music playing, and I'd assumed it was the staff's decision but now it was all modern hip-hop and R & B rubbish. I heard a couple of the girls behind the desk talking about what to put on the jukebox next, and one of them was very specific in that it should be "something recent", which again is code, this time for "crap".

So. The bar had a jukebox. The staff had no control over the music except for their own hard-earned money. A lightbulb came on above my head. I went round to where the blasted thing stood and proceeded to feed that machine my life's earnings. 24 fuckin' songs in a row I played, edumacating those young tarts behind the bar in proper classic rock, with some country thrown in for sheer punishment.

We're talking Creedence, Johnny Cash, Bruce Springsteen, Queen, Elvis and Hank Williams. We're talking "Hurt" & "The Man comes around", we're talking "Tougher than the rest" and "Ghost of Tom Joad". We're even talking "Okie from Muskoggee" & "I saw the light", which I put on not because I particularly fancy them, but because they were the most deliciously inbred music I could find on that machine. I got some appreciative nods from other customers, but the barmaids made themselves strangely scarce over the next couple of hours.

You can forget my food, biatch - but don't fuck with mah music!

Quote of the Day

A whole week of Oscar Wilde (again)...

We have really everything in common with America nowadays except, of course, language.
- Oscar Wilde

Chichester

Thanks to the incredible slowness of the Norwegian bureaucracy OR my lawyer (I don't know at present where to go postal when I get back) I still haven't got my money from the house sale. So all I have left is a Mastercard, which I'm hoping and praying will last me a few days. This meant I had to cancel the trip to the Isle of Wight, since the ferry was too expensive at this point. So I've been making my way to Southampton instead. I also had to forego the two Roman sites I was planning on seeing at Wight, and instead visited Portchester's English Heritage Castle (more about that later), where I could get in for freeeeee.

Last night was spent in Chichester, at some unmentionable place run by a bunch of Asians. Things take twice as long when every sentence is broken up with "yes sir", "please sir" and "thank you sir". In addition, the water in the shower was a mere drizzle and they were trying to skimp on the effin breakfast. Never again! *shudder*

The few pics I took in Chichester are all here.

A pedestrian street.


The Cathedral, which is one of the oldest in England and still not a ruin. Sigh.


An elaborate, overbuilt market cross. I have a feeling that if you ever agree to meet one of the locals and ask "where shall we meet?" he/she'll just look funny at you.


Dey lubs 'em sum chocolate in Chichester. This was the third sales location in 50 meters.

Quote of the Day

My ancestors were Puritans from England. They arrived here in 1648 in the hope of finding greater restrictions than were permissible under English law at that time.
- Garrison Keillor

Lewes

On the road between Pevensey and Lewes, I stopped just long enough to take a couple of pics of "The Long Man of Wilmington". Like almost all of these figures spread across the English countryside, it is a quite recent invention. The long man is probably from the 16th century, although this hasn't prevented new agers and other assorted eejits & assholes from conducting "pagan" (read: spanking new) rituals on the site. Sweet jebus, in 2011 you'd think people would settle for science, but they still cling to old beliefs or make up new ones. Gaaaah.

I then drove on to Lewes, which has some very touristy areas, and in this respect it reminded me a little of Canterbury. Lewes Castle, which is rare in that it was originally built on TWO "mottes" (mounds), instead of the customary ONE is still quite a sight, but probably the best part of the experience is the fine views you have from the top of it. 6 quid's a steep price when you haven't even got an audioguide or a blowjob in the bargain. Do you HEAR me, Sussex Archaeological Society?

The area is rich with history. In addition to the castle itself, it was the site of the Battle of Lewes, where in 1264 Simon de Montfort whupped king Henry III's ass and initated the first, feeble beginnnings of Parliament. Later, during the reign of papist bitch Catholic Queen Mary I, 17 Protestants were burned at the stake. To this day the good people of Lewes arrange the biggest Guy Fawkes' Night bonfire in Britain, cheerfully burning the Pope in effigy every year. It's so politically uncorrect, I must even now wipe a tear of joy when I think about it. In 1836 the worst avalanche in British history killed 8 people over by the cliffs. So yeah, Lewes has seen its fair share of action over the years.

After a pleasant 45 mins at the castle I repaired to the White Hart Hotel, where Tom Paine launched his political career in 1768. He apparently formed his own debating society, called "The Headstrong Club", where he began forming his radical ideas. Even though the building looks (and IS) ancient, not much remains of what was there in Paine's day; the building has undergone extensive renovations since. Still, seeing the place gave me goosebumps. Paine is one of the greatest revolutionaries and rabulists of all times, and his work for the American Revolution in particular was extremely important. These are the times that try men's souls... oh yeah, still relevant to this day.

After a good lunch of duck's breast I dragged my bloated body towards the car. Outside a pub called The Elephant & Castle I suddenly spotted a sign which said they were showing the football match between Liverpool and Everton, two city rivals in the English League. So I went in and caught the last 25 mins or so, including both of Liverpool's sweet, sweet goals.

Watching the match in a pub is an education in itself, especially in English swear words. I've never heard more foul language in my life, and most of the people in the pub were actually rooting for the winning team... the conversation was cheerfully spiced with "shite", "cunt", "fuck", "wanker", "sods" and included various derivations thereof and more. It was like attending a meeting of the Tourette's syndrome association.

All Lewes Castle pics here, all Lewes City pics here.

The Long Man.


The White Hart Hotel outside and inside.




The plaque on the wall.


In this meeting room on the 2nd floor, Paine's club used to meet. They have the American Constitution on one of the walls.


A duck had to give its life for me to gorge on this fine lunch. As is only right and just.


What Lewes Castle once looked like.


In the Barbican they have a small museum, with a model of the city, with light displays and fancy shtuff where they show a 12-minute introduction to the history of Lewes.


The Keep, which was built on the second, and by far the largest of the two mounds.


This Bowling Green was constructed sometime in the 1700s, and Tom Paine played here. I keep thinking of him as an ancient Sobchak.


I can only assume that this building, which lies wall to wall with the present castle, is a private home. Color me green with envy.


The cliffs, as seen from the castle. Up on the Downs, yessirree.


This little top was the first mound, which was later on pretty much abandoned.


English humor.


Many of the steps up to the keep are inscribed with names of people or organizations. I can only assume this is some form of sponsorship. I think it's a brilliant way to raise money and involve people in history.


Across the valley to the uhm... north...? Uh, anyways, across the valley lies a monument to the 17 eejits who got themselves burned to death because they insisted that their invisible friend was better than the Queen's invisible friend. Iffin we could just burn 'em all and be rid of invisible friends for ever, I'd actually be quite happy.


Lewes' most recent claim to fame is this building, which used to be the jail. Mick Jagger was briefly locked up here in the late 60s for smoking pot. When you look at Mick nowadays you have to think he's his own worst punishment.


Sho, sho pwetty.


I'm going to close today's writings with this verse from the poem "Sussex", by Rudyard Kipling. It kinda sums up my feelings not just toward this landscape, but to all of "this Scepter'd Isle". Hot damn, I love England.

So to the land our hearts we give
Till the sure magic strike,
And Memory, Use, and Love make live
Us and our fields alike—
That deeper than our speech and thought,
Beyond our reason’s sway,
Clay of the pit whence we were wrought
Yearns to its fellow-clay.

Pevensey

Yesterday evening was rounded off with the best Indian meal I've ever had, and that's saying something. The place was called Jali, and if you're ever in Hastings, you simply MUST have their Kashmiri naan bread. Seriously, it is to die for. Honey-sweetened bread with fruits and nuts inlaid... omg... I'm drooling just thinking about it. The night ended with me being lulled to sleep by insane seagulls and even more insane drunkards and drag racers with Pakistani music blaring at volume 11 out on the seafront.

Today has been a great day. It started off with Pevensey Castle, which began life as a Roman fortification in the AD 280s. It was the southernmost in their "Saxon Shore" defense against north European pirates. When the Romans withdrew, the locals started using the wall for building material, but large parts of it still stands, and was used by the Normans as part of their structure later on. It was even used to house yanks and canucks during WW2. Again, the free audio guide from English Heritage is a must.

Later in the day I went on to Lewes (pronounced Lewis) and saw their castle, and also stumbled upon the hotel where Tom Paine in 1768 started his debate society. More about that in the next installment. Finally I watched my favorite football team Liverpool demolish local rivals Everton 2-0. A blissful day, indeed.

All Pevensey pics here.

The Roman wall is still up to 3.5 meters thick in places and runs around much of the castle ruins.


A thousand years ago, the sea, or rather marshlands, came all the way up to the castle. Later, farmers drained and worked the marshland.


Pevensey and surrounding lands were given by William the Bastard to his half brother Bob (it sounds so much better than "Robert de Mortain"), who built the first (probably wooden) castle here and later a stone keep. No one knows today what the keep might have looked like over the years, probably it was quite tall. The structure of the keep was reputedly unlike that of all other Norman castles.


Pevensey even had a proper moat, woo hoo!


Much of today's open courtyard must have consisted of buildings. This one, of stone, was the chapel. Other, wooden buildings we can only speculate about.


Makes kabooom. Or rather, big crash. These stones were for the trebuchet, a type of catapult with "frightening accuracy".


Dis be da real kabooom.

Quote of the Day

The English country gentleman galloping after a fox - the unspeakable in full pursuit of the uneatable.
- Oscar Wilde

Battle Village

After Hastings I drove out to the village of Battle, a small, very touristy settlement a few miles northwest of Hastings. It originally sprang up to serve the abbey that William the Conqueror built in atonement for his wholesale slaughter of the English a few years before. Sorta like if Hitler had built a lot of roads to make up for... oh, wait... never mind. Of course, the English would have been MUCH better off if the Norwegians had beaten them at Stamford Bridge a few weeks earlier. Just sayin'.

All pics from Battle here.

Nice, but very touristy.


According to tradition (another way of calling "bullshit") the English king Harold Goodwinson died here, and the high altar of the abbey was built over the site. The abbey was reduced to its present state of rubble during the Dissolution of the monasteries under that magnificently brilliant fuck Henry VIII.


The low building to the left is where the monks shat. Just thought you'd like to know.


Apparently the battle was won by the Normans through a tactic wherein they feigned retreat, only to turn around and attack the pursuing Anglo-Saxons, whose lines were by then stretched out. This happened several times during the day. Honestly, that's the dirtiest trick ever; who expects the FRENCH to fight?


The battlefield. Perhaps the most ENGLISH landscape I've ever seen.


The great gatehouse, which was rebuilt sometime in the 14th century houses a shop and a small museum.


I can't remember the name of this place, but it was just across the road from the abbey. I had lunch there, and let me tell you: Whatever you do, DON'T have the hamburger. There was a sign saying the building was from c. 1420, and the meat can't have been much younger.

Hastings

This morning I drove on down from Dover to the city of Hastings. The city is famous for the "Battle of Hastings", but in reality the battle took place more than ten miles inland from there, at a place now somewhat unimaginatively named... "Battle".

Anyways, modern Hastings is nothing much, mainly a seaside resort but it does have the ruins of an old castle the Normans built four years after the invasion, on a cliff overlooking the city. On a warm, sunny day it's very peaceful and nice to walk around up there, although unless you're obsessed with English history you can probably drop the £4.25 ticket to the ruins and just settle for the magnificent views. There's a park more or less surrounding the castle grounds, and several very nice properties to be looked at.

Along the road from Dover, I spotted this car. I just had to stop, turn back and document the wonderful imagery. This is truly art! If you don't know what this is, you need to re-examine your life. Seriously.


Ish nice.


Ish alsho nice.


The ruins of a church. Just the right state of repair for any religious building.


More ruins.


The most adventurous 60 seconds I spent in the castle grounds were spent in the basement. No, nothing happened there either, but at least it was cool.


Sucking up to the French. Bah!


I may not have the majesty of an eagle, but I can still crap on your head.