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Now that I am full of years and have the joy of family but no longer the encumbrance of dependants, I like to revisit memorable places of my past and re-live the experiences of such times. An opportunity arose for me to spend a few days at Bridgnorth in Shropshire, where I took my initial training whilst in the Royal Air Force. En route I spent some hours in the 'civitas fidelis' - Worcester and savoured some of its delights, incidentally discovering information about a saint, of whom I had known very little. The magnificent cathedral at Worcester is in a commanding position by the river. There I went to Morning Prayer and received communion in its St George's Chapel - a place bedecked with the Poppies of Remembrance Sunday, the red colours echoing the St George's Cross on the shields shown on the beautiful stained glass. The visit coincided with the Feast Day of St Margaret who became influential in Scottish affairs, being married to King Malcolm III of Scotland. Surprisingly, I found that she had been educated in Hungary and was a relative of King Canute. I noticed that the 10th Century saints - St Oswald and St Wulfstan were important in the development of the cathedral, the former also donating a considerable manuscript library of sacred texts written in Caroline Script, which I teach in my classes. Among the other interesting sights of Worcester were: The Commandery. A timber-framed building which was the Headquarters of the Royalist Army during the Civil War. It is now a museum where the curious may be deeply informed of England's last battle of this period - the Battle of Worcester 1651. King Charles' House, now a restaurant. This was the place where the King (Charles II) sheltered whilst his Scots Army was routed by the disciplined Cromwelliam New Model Army. The story goes that the King narrowly escaped being captured by fleeing out the back door just as the Roundheads entered the front. By chance I had arrived at the restaurant at the Beaujolais Nouveau evening, the waitresses being dressed in the frou-frou garb of the 'naughty nineties' and French music being played by an accordionist. The temptation to have a marvellous meal there was irresistible! The Royal Worcester Factory where there was a feast of lovely tableware in traditional designs. This site is the last in England to be making precious porcelain. Although I browsed at considerable mouth-watering length, when it came to buying I could only afford a few seconds! Further on my journey to Bridgnorth I visited the birthplace and museum at Broadheath, of the great composer Edward Elgar. During my Air Force days the padre at the Station used to run musical evenings. He always started the selections with Chanson de Matin and concluded with Chanson de Nuit - happy days! How music brings back memories. On recollection I had a favourite at the time which was Variation 9 (the Nimrod) of the Enigma Variations. And on delving still further I recall that the most loved musical piece of my late wife was the Adagio from the Cello Concerto. I was fortunate to get all of these in a piano album and have thus recalled the nostalgia.
That ill-fated monarch Charles I once remarked that the spectacle from High Town at Bridgnorth was "The finest view in all my Kingdom" and the poet laureate John Betjeman averred that "If you approach the High Town by the cliff railway you feel you are being lifted up to heaven!". So it was with these superlatives in mind that I re-lived the experiences of my adolescence, in the service of His Majesty King George VI and proudly wearing the uniform of the Royal Air Force. I again climbed that massive outcrop of rock known then as the "Queen's Parlour" and looked towards the magnificent Palladian Church of St Mary Magdalene designed by the celebrated Thomas Telford. The climb, I discovered, was easier than hitherto. One explanation was that I might (over 50 years afterwards) now be more fit! - but I deceive myself! It is more likely that the rockface was more weathered and eroded by thousands of other climbers and footholds were more readily available.
Instead of using the oldest and steepest inland funicular (with a 1:1:8 gradient) I walked up the 200 steps from the magnificent River Severn and the spectacular bridge at Low Town towards High Town. Here are winding streets with quaint cottages and houses in a sort of time-warp - though phenomenally more expensive than in Georgian times! The town hall was available to enter, when one could navigate through the chaotic and lively street market. Inside this building, beautifully preserved both inside and out, there was stained glass of high quality, depicting royal, noble and municipal heraldic designs. There was a spring in my step as I sampled again these delights. The RAF Station had been about a couple of miles out of town, at Stanmore, and on many occasions I had walked the road from Low Town late at night. Inevitably things do change. The route is now of metalled road, though the rocky gorge is still there and the countryside looks much the same. On entry to the location I found the camp demolished and instead the vast area was now a country park and where the parade ground used to be, an industrial complex had sprung up! Undaunted, I took up my position as a guard for the RAF station, simulating being At Ease and At Attention with my trusty rifle - an SMLE (short magazine Lee Enfield). I must have made a comical, not to say slightly unhinged sight! There was a monument erected in the park which commemorated all those who had served at the camp between 1938 and 1963. I was most pleased and gratified to see it. The visit ended all too soon but not before the wine of my early life had been drunk to the full. To others who are hesitant about reviving their own marvellous memories there is a Latin epithet which sums up the motivation completely - Carpe Diem! Rod Dawson |
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page last updated 24 FEBRUARY 2002 |
