Windmills in Great Britain

This is an account of traditional windmills that were once very common in the British countryside but are now rarely seen complete, with only a few working examples still in existence.

British windmills

The British countryside is now adorned (if that is the correct word) with a new generation of windmills that stand massively, in rows and groups, turning slowly to convert wind power into electricity. However, the hills of England (and to a lesser extent Wales and Scotland) were once adorned with windmills of a different design that had another purpose. Only a few are left in working condition, but many more remain in varying states of disrepair.

The Function of Windmills

Similarly to watermills, windmills have been used for more than one function. However, their main use has traditionally been to drive machinery to grind corn into flour. With bread being the staple food in England from earliest times, the laborious process of grinding wheat grains between two circular stones was one for which a mechanical solution was always going to be welcomed.

Water power was used for this purpose from Saxon times, but one problem was that much of the corn-growing area in England, mainly the eastern half, was also relatively flat and streams and rivers flowed slowly. This is also the side of the country with less rainfall, so water power could not be guaranteed, especially during the summer when the harvest was taken in and the milling was most needed.

The windmill was introduced to England during the 12^th century, probably by returning Crusaders who had seen windmills in operation in Arab lands, where they had been used since the 7^th century. One thing that England was not short of was wind, and where water power failed, wind could succeed.

Windmill technology developed over the centuries as circumstances dictated, but there were generally three types that predominated:

The Post-Mill

The oldest type of windmill, it was built on a brick base that supported a massive vertical post, often a complete oak tree trunk. The mill itself was built around this post, the sails being fixed on the outside, and the whole structure would be free to revolve around the vertical axis. The miller could push the mill into position to catch the wind, using a tiller beam for this purpose.

One disadvantage of this system was that, in order to keep the weight down, the mill would have to be built almost entirely of wood, and that added to the fire hazard. Mills were notorious fire traps, in that the friction of the stones rubbing together caused sparks that ignited the dry powder of the flour and then the whole mill.

The Smock-Mill

Smock-mills were also largely built of wood, but the main difference from the post-mill was that only the top part of the structure, to which the sails attached, revolved. The base of the mill was usually built of brick, with wood being used for the upper portion which tapered towards the top and was thought to look like a countryman’s smock, hence the name.

From the mid 18^th-century, small fantails were added at the opposite side to the sails, so that the latter could be turned into the wind automatically.

The Tower-Mill

It was possible for post-mills and smock-mills to be moved from one location to another, as they were largely wooden constructions, but this was not the case with tower-mills, which resembled lighthouses in their construction. These were brick towers, round or octagonal, that tapered towards the top and could reach a considerable height. As with the smock-mill, only the topmost portion of the mill revolved.

Developments in Mill Technology

Over the centuries, various refinements were made to the machinery as well as to the architecture of windmills. These changes were made for reasons of both efficiency and safety.

The gearing mechanisms that drove the millstones were developed so that a constant milling speed could be achieved however fast the sails were turning. The ideal turning speed for the upper millstone was 150 revolutions per minute – too slow would be inefficient and too fast could be dangerous.

Sail design was refined so that the mill could work on relatively calm days as well as windy ones. For example, the sails were curved slightly, and twisted in alignment so that they would catch the wind. In early mills, canvas or sailcloth was used in such a way that it could be furled in high winds, similarly to reefing on a sailing ship. Later mills (from the late 18^th century) used hinged shutters operated by a spring that would open the shutters in a high wind and slow the speed of revolution.

Windmills Today

Although small windpumps are still used for water pumping in low-lying areas, and wind turbines now generate electricity, the original windmills fell out of use when the Industrial Revolution offered more efficient steam power and public taste moved away from stoneground flour towards the white flour obtainable from factory milling.

Many windmills can still be seen, however, with or without their sails. Only a handful are still in working order, although efforts are being made to restore a few of them. Others have been converted into dwellings but most are now in ruins, a testament to a past age.

© John Welford

Tintagel Castle, Cornwall

This ancient castle on the north coast of Cornwall is associated with the legends of King Arthur and of Tristan and Isolde. The truth may never be known, although a 1998 find of a 1,500 year old piece of slate bearing the name “Artognou” excited a fresh round of speculation.

Although Tintagel was occupied during Roman times and was a trading post for Celts in the 5th and 6th centuries, the castle we see today was built in the 13th century by Richard, Earl of Cornwall (1209-72). Richard was a brother of Henry III, who gave Cornwall to Richard as a birthday present. What he did when Christmas came along is not recorded!

The castle is sited on a rocky island that is connected to the mainland by a footbridge. More than 100 steep steps then lead up to the castle entrance, hence it is inaccessible for disabled visitors. The castle itself is a ruin, but many features of the ground plan can be made out from the remaining walls, and the views in all directions are stunning.

© John Welford

The Worcester Bar on a canal in Birmingham

Here is the story behind a strange feature to be found on the canal system in the heart of Birmingham, West Midlands.

The Worcester Bar

This sounds like a strange name for a short, narrow stretch of canal in the middle of Birmingham – it is not in Worcester and it is not a bar. The only barrier it presents these days is in not permitting two boats to pass each other but, being short, the delay is not going to be long.

However, this was the scene of a fierce commercial battle between two canal companies in the early 19^th century, resulting in a situation that seems absurd to us today, and a compromise that was merely inconvenient and whose legacy is the feature that we see today.

Worcester and Birmingham versus the Birmingham Canal Company

During the heyday of the canal system, which was a relatively short period between the mid-18^th century and the rise of the railways from the 1840s onwards, canal companies sought to outdo each other in providing routes for the transport of goods from the industrial heartland of England to the ports.

In 1791, the Worcester and Birmingham Canal Company was given Parliamentary approval to build a canal from Birmingham to the River Severn at Worcester, from where barges would proceed to the port of Bristol.

However, this canal would provide a better route than that already provided by the Staffordshire and Worcestershire Canal, which linked with the Birmingham Canal to provide a route from Birmingham and Wolverhampton to the Stour and then the Severn. The advantage of the new route would be that it would avoid a stretch of the Severn that contained difficult shallows that were always a problem when the river level was low.

The Birmingham Canal’s Revenge

Clearly, if goods could be taken from the factories of the Black Country and Birmingham straight down to the Severn at Worcester, this would hit the revenues of the Birmingham Canal Company very hard. The latter therefore made sure that the Act of Parliament that set up the Worcester and Birmingham Canal contained a clause stipulating that the new canal could not come closer than seven feet to the water of the Birmingham Canal. It would therefore be impossible for boats to proceed from one canal to the other.

The Creation of the Worcester Bar

The Worcester Bar was therefore a solid wall between the two canals. Boatmen could get to within seven feet of the other canal but no further. Goods that were destined for delivery at places beyond the Bar therefore had to be unloaded from one barge, taken manually round the Bar and reloaded on to another barge on the other side. As they passed through, the goods could also be assessed for payments of fees.

Clearly this led to much delay, confusion and expense as hundreds of barrowloads of bulk goods were wheeled through the Bar every day, merely for the lack of seven feet of water. Needless to say, the merchants whose goods were subject to this restriction were not best pleased.

The Stop Lock Compromise

The situation was resolved in 1815, when the Birmingham Canal Company was eventually persuaded to allow a stop lock to be built in place of the Bar.

A stop lock is a lock that comprises two lock gates but without any mechanism for changing water levels. The idea is simply that a boat has to stop within the lock before permission is granted to proceed by the opening of the second gate.

With the stop lock in place, cargoes could still be examined and fees levied by the canal companies, but the cargoes could stay on board. This was clearly the commonsense option.

  

The Worcester Bar Today

What you can see today is the old stop lock but without the gates. You can see where the gates used to be, and you can also see the buildings alongside the Bar that used to house the lock keepers and the company officials who examined the cargoes and levied the fees.

This part of Birmingham was once a grimy, smoky and unpleasant place where men endured hard, physical labour hauling cargoes about. Today you will find canalside pubs and restaurants and sometimes, such as when these photos were taken on a Sunday morning, an oasis of calm.

The Worcester Bar is a fascinating reminder of Birmingham’s industrial heritage.

© John Welford

The Rollright Stones, Oxfordshire

These are the “King’s Men”, a circle of 77 weathered pieces of limestone that form part of the Rollright Stones, an ancient monument on the border between Oxfordshire and Warwickshire.

The whole site comprises three distinct features, namely the King’s Men, the King Stone and the Whispering Knights, although they do not date from the same time. The Whispering Knights, which is a dolmen – the stone interior of a burial mound – dates from the Neolithic era and could have been constructed at any time from 3800 BC to 3000 BC, whereas the King’s Men were erected during the early Bronze Age at about 2500-2000 BC. The King Stone is probably later still, at about 1800-1500BC.

For comparison, it is believed that Stonehenge was built over a period of time that corresponds roughly with that of the Rollright Stones, namely between 3000 and 2000 BC.

The three parts of the Rollright Stones are within easy walking distance of each other. The Whispering Knights are about 400 yards down a grassy track from the King’s Men, with the King Stone being in in a field just over the road from the stone circle (and therefore on the Warwickshire side of the border).

The Rollright Stones are not as impressive as those at Stonehenge, but they are much more accessible.  You can actually walk up to the King’s Men and touch them (although there is a superstition that says it is unlucky to do so!). You can therefore see at close hand how they have been weathered into strange shapes and you can also examine the lichens that have grown on them undisturbed for hundreds of years.

The Whispering Knights and the King Stone are slightly less accessible, in that they are protected by railings. This has been done to prevent any recurrence of the 19^th century habit of chipping off bits of stone as good luck charms – presumably the “do not touch” legend did not apply to them!

Speaking of legends, there is of course a mythological story that accounts for how the stones came to be where they are. A local king and his men were marching across the high ground when they were accosted by a witch. She challenged him to take seven strides and he would become king of all England if he could see the village of Long Compton when he had done so. However, a spur of land obstructed his view, so the witch turned him to stone instead.

The same fate befell his men, who had formed themselves into a circle to wait for the king. As the witch left the scene she came across a small group of knights who had lagged behind the main group to conspire to overthrow the king. They were turned to stone as they stood, whispering to each other for all time.

A visit to the Rollright Stones need not detain you long, but you can linger and admire the views unencumbered by crowds of people. You won’t find any visitor facilities, apart from a coin box that asks you make a £1.00 donation towards the upkeep of the site.

© John Welford

The Mathematical Bridge, Cambridge

This is the “Mathematical Bridge” at Cambridge. It is a wooden footbridge that spans the River Cam and connects two parts of Queens’ College (referred to by students as the “light side” and the “dark side”).

It has been said that bridge is “mathematical” because it is so perfectly engineered that it is the arrangement of the timbers that keeps it in place. If you removed all the bolts it would stay exactly as it is and be able to function perfectly normally.

That is, however, a myth! If you took all the bolts away you would have quite a lot of timber, and maybe a few dons and undergraduates, floating down the river!

What gives the bridge its name is the facts that all the timbers are straight but it creates the impression of a curve. If you follow every section of the underside you can see how all the timbers are continuous from the stone bulwark to the handrail. The illusion of a curve would have been ever greater had more timbers been used, but this was probably as many as could be incorporated across a relatively small gap.

The bridge was originally built in 1749, and you sometimes hear people saying that it was designed by Sir Isaac Newton. However, that is unlikely given that he died in 1727!

What you see today is the second rebuilding of the bridge, dating from 1905.

© John Welford

The Golden Hind: Sir Francis Drake's famous ship

Sir Francis Drake sailed round the world between 1577 and 1580 in his ship the “Golden Hind”. He returned to England a wealthy man, largely due to his piratical behaviour towards the Spanish en route, and was able to repay his investors, including Queen Elizabeth I, many times over.

His ship went on public display in London, and was the first such ship to have that honour.

The ship in the photo, taken by me, is not Drake’s ship, as the original rotted away to nothing within 100 years, but a full-scale authentic replica that was built in Devon in 1973. It has sailed even further than Drake’s ship, notching up more than 140,000 miles in numerous voyages across the oceans, including a full circumnavigation of the world.

The replica is now moored permanently in a small dock, hemmed in by modern buildings, on Bankside near Southwark Cathedral and London Bridge. If you walk along the Thames Path on the south bank you will suddenly come across it as you turn a corner.

It is amazing to think that a ship as small as this could have carried 80 men around the world more than 400 years ago, but the voyage of the replica proved that it could be done. 

The ship is now used mainly for educational purposes, with a fully costumed crew showing schoolchildren of all ages just what life was like on a 16^th century sailing ship.

© John Welford

The gardens of Powis Castle, Wales

A visit to Powis Castle near Welshpool, east Wales, would not be complete without spending some time in the castle gardens. Apart from the gardens themselves, there are splendid views to be had of the surrounding countryside.

Powis Castle is set on a rocky prominence above the valley in which Welshpool sits, which means that the slope below the castle would be far too steep to plant a garden unless the land was terraced, and that is precisely what has been done. Four broad terraces lead down from the castle to the valley floor, where the gardens continue.

The terracing was started in the early 17^th century, but the real work was done in the 1680s by the architect William Winde, who was also a military engineer who knew how to blast the solid rock away to create level surfaces.

The Herbert family, who owned Powis Castle, were supporters of the Catholic King James II, so when the latter was deposed and exiled in 1688, the Herberts went too. They were greatly impressed by what they saw of the gardens of French aristocrats and royalty, so, on their return in 1703, they set about creating a garden that incorporated features that they had seen in France and on their travels around continental Europe.

The gardens seen today owe much to the efforts of a more recent family member, namely Violet Lane-Fox (1865-1929), the wife of the 4^th Earl of Powis who left the castle and its grounds to the nation on his death in 1952. The countess sought to restore the gardens to their former splendour after many years of neglect, just as her husband did for the castle.

The four terraces contain a profusion of flowering and foliage plants backed by stone and brick walls and framed by low box hedges. Classical statues of nymphs and swains add a continental touch.

The massive yew hedges on the upper terraces and particularly at the northern end are notable features of the Powis Castle gardens. These hedges were originally trimmed into intricate shapes but are now “cloud pruned” into bulky shapes that are no less impressive. A photo on display in the garden shows how the hedges were pruned in former times, with gardeners climbing up 40-foot ladders and standing on top on the hedges armed with shears, but in these more health-and-safety-conscious times the job is done from a mechanical cherry-picker!

Below the terraces is a mixture of garden types, including a formal garden in the 18^th century style, a croquet lawn, and the Grand Lawn that was originally a water garden. One area has been allowed to run wild (although it is full of daffodils in the spring) in order to encourage wildlife. There is a large area of woodland with paths running through it, and a small lake that is also designed as a wildlife haven.

It would be very easy to spend a long time in the garden, but the visitor needs to remember that the gate is locked at 5.30pm (earlier out of the summer months) and it takes longer to walk up four terraces to the exit than down!

© John Welford

The Callanish Standing Stones, Lewis

These are the Standing Stones of Callanish, on the island of Lewis which is one of the Outer Hebrides off the northwest coast of Scotland.

There are 48 stones, the tallest of which is 4.5 metres (14 feet 9 inches) high. They are arranged in a cross-shaped pattern, with a stone circle and burial chamber in the centre. The whole site measures 123 metres (405 feet) by 43 metres (140 feet). 

After Stonehenge, it is generally reckoned to be the most impressive megalithic monument in Great Britain, although it was only discovered in 1857 when the stones were excavated from the bog in which they had been largely submerged.

One legend surrounding Callanish is that the stones were giants who were petrified by St Kiernan because they refused to become Christian.

However, the stones predate Christianity by a long way, having been erected between 3500 and 4000 years ago, which was even before the first Celts arrived in the Scottish islands. Their purpose, apart from being a burial site, appears to have something to do with tracking the movements of the Moon, which is a clue to the religious practices of those very early settlers.

© John Welford

The brave shepherd boy of Canons Ashby

This statue commemorates an incident that took place at Canons Ashby in Northamptonshire during the English Civil War.

Canons Ashby is the ancestral home of the Dryden family, who acquired the site not long after the former priory of Augustinian canons had been evicted during the Dissolution of the Monasteries under King Henry VIII.

During the 17^th century the Drydens were Puritans who supported the cause of Parliament when King Charles I declared war on Parliament in 1642. The Civil War was a long-drawn-out affair that was not settled until 1648. Only a few pitched battles were fought and much of the action consisted of minor skirmishes in which pieces of territory were claimed or reclaimed for one side or the other. The participants were mainly landed gentry whose private militias took part in these skirmishes.

Families such as the Drydens were therefore always on guard against an attack from a rival force. That was why, on an occasion when a group of armed men were being entertained to mutton pies and ale in the kitchen at Canons Ashby, a local shepherd boy was stationed in the garden as sentry so that he could sound a warning if any enemy force was seen to approach.

His means of sounding the alarm was to blow his flute, which he did when a brigade of royalist soldiers came into sight. The men in the kitchen heard the alarm and rushed off to find somewhere safer, namely the tower of the nearby church. The royalists saw them escaping and besieged them in the tower, where they were eventually forced to surrender and were captured.

The incident only led to one death, namely that of the unfortunate shepherd boy who was left out in the open when the royalists arrived. The Parliamentarian soldiers were eventually freed but the shepherd boy was executed for his act of treachery to the king.

His statue has stood facing Canons Ashby ever since 1713.

© John Welford

Sultan the Pit Pony, Caerphilly

Underground coal mining is no more in South Wales, with the last deep pit having closed in 2008. That does not mean that mining has left no impression on the Welsh landscape, because the millions of tons of waste material extracted from the mines had to go somewhere, and that meant the construction of massive slag heaps that grew on the hillsides that separated the Welsh valleys in which the mines were sunk.

In the years since the mines closed, huge efforts have been made either to remove the slag heaps or to incorporate them into the landscape – usually by planting trees to stabilize them and stop them being the eyesores they once were.

However, some schemes have been particularly innovative, and one such can be seen a few miles north of Caerphilly on the site of the former Penallta Colliery. This is a land sculpture of a pit pony, created by Mick Petts, a Welsh artist who has produced a number of similar works in other places.

What he did was to spread the slag heap material into a curved mound some 200 metres long and sculpt it into the features of a pony, including its mane, tail and hooves. The project took three years to complete, from 1996 to 1999.

The sculpture is a memorial to the many thousands of ponies that were used to pull coal trucks deep underground. This was a practice that declined during the later years of Welsh mining, although there were several retired ponies still alive at the time that Mike Petts was creating his sculpture. It was one these – Sultan – whose name has transferred to the sculpture.

Sultan the Pit Pony has a secondary function, which is to provide a windbreak for the otherwise exposed playing field that is also part of the re-landscaping of the Penallta colliery site.

The site is open to the public and many people enjoy walking across “Sultan” from nose to tail tip!

©John Welford

St Mary's Church, Canons Ashby, Northamptonshire

This small parish church was once considerably larger. It is all that is left of a medieval priory that belonged to a community of Augustinian canons, dating from about 1250. Although the priory never accommodated more than 13 monks, their priory was a substantial building and the church was the size of a small cathedral.

However, when King Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries in the 1530s the priory at Canons Ashby was one of the first on a very long list. The property was acquired by Sir Francis Bryan, but he soon sold it on to Sir John Cope, a wealthy Puritan lawyer.

Sir John began the process of demolishing the Priory and building his own house on the site. However, this project was abandoned after the property became that of the Dryden family in the 1570s. They built their own house nearby but wanted to retain the priory church for their own use and that of the local community. They did not need a small cathedral so they demolished all of it except for two bays and the tower, and a new wall was built to enclose what was left.

The result is a truncated church with a high ceiling, which gives it a somewhat barn-like internal appearance.

It is one of only four parish churches in England that is privately owned, although the owner is now the National Trust rather than the Dryden family. Generations of Drydens have been buried in the church or are commemorated by plaques on the walls.

© John Welford

Oxborough Church, Norfolk

Parish churches in English villages often strike visitors as being far too big for the community that they serve. One forgets that at one time attendance at church on Sundays was compulsory, and also that rural populations were, in many places, much larger than they are now due to the highly labour-intensive nature of agriculture in the days before tractors and combine harvesters.

The Church of St John the Evangelist at Oxborough, Norfolk, provides an excellent illustration of how a church can shrink in size and yet be perfectly adequate for modern needs. However, the shrinkage was not caused by any wish of the villagers or its clergy.

St John’s Church was built during the 14^th century in the Perpendicular style, using stone and flint. It must have been an impressive structure in its heyday, with a nave and chancel of comparable length, and a magnificent stone tower and spire that rivalled that of Norwich Cathedral in its dimensions.

Oxborough has long been the home of the Bedingfield family, who built Oxburgh Hall in the late 15^th century. This splendid moated manor is a place that is well worth a visit. The first occupant of the Hall, Sir Edmund Bedingfield, directed in his will that a chapel be built at the side of the nave of St John’s Church to contain his tomb. He died in 1496 and the chancery chapel was built in 1500 and enhanced by later Bedingfields.

The church spire was struck by lightning in 1877 and rebuilt in 1879. However, the new structure was not strong enough to contain a peal of six bells and, on a windy morning in April 1948 it collapsed for a second time, but it fell in such a way that it brought down the entire roof of the nave.

A decision was made not to rebuild the church as it had been but to preserve what could be saved and – in effect – create a village church that was more suited to the needs of the mid-20^th century.

The chancel was largely undamaged, so a new flint wall was built to enclose the chancel, which now forms a perfectly adequate parish church in its own right. Fortunately, the Bedingfield Chapel was also spared from the collapse, as were the terracotta monuments that it contains. The Chapel is now entered from the roofless nave.

The church opened in its new configuration eight years after the collapse, with one of the offending bells finding a use as the sanctus bell above the new entrance.

Although Oxborough Church looks very strange today, being a half-ruin without a tower, it is one that has an unusual tale to tell, and it is a story of resurgence from disaster in which the local community can take justifiable pride.

© John Welford

King Henry VIII's Cornish castles

Following his divorce from Catherine of Aragon in 1533, and his break from Catholic Europe, King Henry VIII became increasingly concerned that he had made England vulnerable to invasion from either France or Spain. It was in order to guard against any threat from Spain that he built three castles in Cornwall that were designed to protect the ports of Falmouth and Fowey on the county’s south coast. These castles – armed with artillery pieces – would be the first land-based line of defence should any Spanish ships sail up the English Channel.

St Mawes Castle

Sited on the eastern side of the mouth of the River Fal, the castle was designed purely as a base for artillery fire. There is a four-storey central round tower and three circular bastions arranged in a clover-leaf pattern. The flat-roofed bastions were simply platforms for artillery pieces.

 

The castle is in an excellent state of repair, this being mainly because it continued in use long after the threat of invasion during King Henry’s reign had passed. At various times it acted as a garrison, although its small size meant that not many soldiers could be accommodated. It was only at the close of World War II in 1945 that St Mawes Castle finally lost its function as a military base.

However, despite all this apparent importance to the security of the realm, no gun was ever fired in anger from St Mawes Castle!

Pendennis Castle

Originally the western companion to St Mawes, and similar in design, Pendennis underwent much more development in subsequent years. Like St Mawes, Pendennis continued in use as a military base right up to World War II, but it was given greater importance because of its proximity to the port of Falmouth. New fortifications were added by Elizabeth I following the Spanish Armada, and yet more in the years preceding the English Civil War, during which the castle – held by supporters of King Charles I – was taken by Parliamentary soldiers following a five-month siege.

Visitors can see an interactive exhibition of the castle’s history, mounted in the Royal Artillery Barracks that date from 1901, and a special collection of World War II cartoons by the artist George Butterworth. A land train connects the castle with Falmouth town centre during the summer months.

St Catherine's Castle

This is another of Henry VIII’s coastal defensive castles, built to defend Fowey, some 20 miles north-east of St Mawes/Pendennis. This castle is nothing like as well preserved, consisting of a round two-storey tower, now open to the elements, with gun ports at the ground level. A small gun platform was added in 1855. The castle can be reached via a woodland path or from the beach of nearby Readymoney Cove. As this site is unstaffed, admission is free.

It should be noted that times of admission to these three castles vary considerably from site to site and they also change depending on the day of the week and the month of the year. Intending visitors should check the English Heritage website to avoid a wasted journey.

© John Welford