Banish weather forecasters

click photo to enlarge

In the UK, over the years, the profile of the TV weather forecaster has risen to the point where they are now seen as familiar figures with names and "personalities". Their exposure to the public now goes well beyond telling us about the weather and exchanging a few cheery banalities with the news presenters when their spot has ended. Some undertake public engagements, others feature in newspaper and magazine articles. Their dress, utterances, private lives and more are presented to the public by the media with the assumption that we will be interested. How has this change come about?

There seems to be, on the part of television in particular, a desire to make the weather forecast more exciting, more interesting, something to stay tuned for rather than a respite from regular programming when the audience might go off and make a cup of tea. The presenters themselves have been complicit in this. The problem with it is not just the flim-flam associated with the cult of personality: more importantly the weather forecasts are regularly skewed as a consequence. So, wet weather is presented as "bad", hot sunny weather as "good" or to use the favoured description of one male BBC presenter, "glorious". Of course, quite a few sectors of society (farmers, ice cream sales people, gardeners, etc) will not share this point of view but they seem of little consequence. Continuing "bad weather" is often reported with relish to the point where the forecaster appears to adopt the guise of a Jeremiah. Then there's the technology; the swooping camera, the animated symbols, and the specific forecast for whatever is the current newsworthy sports event. If the weather is stable (or in the presenter's eyes, "boring") the forecast is often livened up by a report about extreme weather somewhere else in the world. Why we need to know about Indonesian typhoons, mid-western tornadoes, droughts in Australia, or flooding in Bangladesh during the UK weather forecast just because the presenter needs to "sex it up" a bit, I really don't know. My answer is to banish the presenters, to have a simple voice-over connected to a visual presentation of the current weather and the weather that is anticipated for the next twenty four hours. That way we might get a little more sanity in the forecast and people might take notice of it rather than the wide-eyed, enthusiastic, over-gesticulating presenter.

Today we went to Peterborough to do a little shopping. The weather forecast was accurate I'm happy to report and we had the anticipated rain. I hope tomorrow the dry weather that was promised materialises because I have some hedges to trim. The subject of today's photograph is the Old Guildhall of 1671 in the Market Place at Peterborough. It is flanked by the church of St John the Baptist which was rebuilt in 1402-7 from the material of the old church and the nave of the now no longer extant, St Thomas. I used the medieval Outer Gate of the cathedral precinct as shelter from the rain as I took my photograph of the damp scene.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 84mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

St John the Baptist, Great Hale

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Anyone approaching the church of St John the Baptist, Great Hale, in Lincolnshire, who has an interest in church architecture, will immediately notice its tower. It is unbuttressed, has no string courses, and its bell openings have twin rounded arches with a single dividing column. All of which says Norman, or possibly Late Saxon, i.e. the eleventh century. This period is a difficult one for architectural historians because not only were Saxon builders working in a Romanesque style not unlike that which the Norman invaders brought after 1066, but many must have continued in employment under the new rulers in subsequent years. The term "Saxo-Norman" is sometimes used to describe work of this time, and it is appropriate in the case of Great Hale.

Most of the rest of the church is Gothic and later. However, the tower has an interesting (Pevsner says "unique") narrow, circular stone stairway built into the thickness of the wall, rather than the wooden stairs or ladders that are more usual at that time. The parapet and pinnacles on the tower are C15. Its nave arcades are Early English (C13 to early C14), as is the south aisle (seen above) with its windows with intersecting tracery, and the south porch doorway. Other windows and details date from the C14 and later re-modellings, particularly that which followed the collapse of the medieval chancel in the mid-C17. The Victorians carried out a major restoration in 1896. A brass plaque records this:"Consequent upon the ravages to the Tower and Roof affected in the gale on Sunday March 24 1885 this church was restored." Part of the "ravages" involved a stone pinnacle falling from the tower top, crashing through the roof and damaging the wooden musicians' gallery. Interestingly, the church was at that time recorded as being in the village of Hale Magna: the English, "Great", was substituted for its Latin equivalent in the twentieth century.

On a recent journey between Folkingham and Heckington I stopped at Great Hale when I noticed the light on the building as I passed by. I've taken a few shots of this church before, none of which has satisfied me. This latest photograph is the best to date for that clear, sharp light, the colour of the trees and sky, and the composition that leads the eye from the foreground tree shadow, to the graves and east end of the church, along the nave, up the tower and into the autumn colours of the leaves.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The oldest parts of a church

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Over the years, knowing my interest in ecclesiastical architecture, many people have asked me which part of a church is usually the oldest. It's a question with several answers. In most instances it's the chancel, the nave arcades, the font, the tower or fragments of sculpture that provide the most ancient material. But there are always (and many) exceptions.

The chancel is often the oldest part because that is where the builders of a church often started - with the place that holds the high altar. However, most of England's churches were enlarged as the country's population grew. So, chancels were sometimes renewed, aisles added, and the height of the nave increased. When this happened the nave arcades of the earlier building were often kept and the extensions were built around them. In some parts of England, particularly the north-west, where a lack of wealth had meant medieval parish churches were often small and poorly constructed, the tower is often the oldest remaining part. This is because when the Industrial Revolution that flourished there in the nineteenth century produced its enormous riches, wealthy individuals and congregations frequently replaced all except the tower with new work. Very often the church font carried on being used through all these upheavals, and in many buildings it is the oldest part. Sometimes, however, it was replaced and the original became a receptacle for flowers in someone's garden! In the village where I live fragments of Saxon carving, presumably from the building that pre-dates the present Norman structure are the oldest evidence to be seen. So, the answer the question has a number of answers.

Today's photograph shows the interior of the church of St John the Baptist at Barnack, Cambridgeshire. Beyond the pierced wooden screen is the chancel that was built around 1300, replacing the original Saxon structure. The columns of the nave arcade on the left have capitals with crockets and volutes of the late 1100s, whilst those on the right are in the fully-fledged stiff-leaf style of twenty or thirty years later. The fine font also looks thirteenth century, though some have suggested the deep bowl may be earlier. However these are not the oldest parts in this building: the strong Saxon tower dates from about 1020, and a sculpture and pieces of carved stone may be of a similar age. So, Barnack church fits the pattern I outlined above, with the oldest elements being those that are usually the oldest in most churches. The one idiosyncracy here is the unique south porch with its steeply pitched stone roof that dates from about 1200. Frequently these porches are later medieval, Georgian or even Victorian additions.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/5
ISO: 200
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: Off (Tripod used)

Tower vaults

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Anyone who has done the full tour of this blog will know that I have a fondness for tower vaulting (see here and here). I suppose it's because there's something fascinating about the way that medieval builders chose to ornament this inaccessible location - often the highest point inside a church. Was it because it was the place in the building nearest to heaven? Did they expend so much care and craft here, knowing that in its remoteness their work would remain pristine, safe from the knocks and bumps of clumsy priests and careless parishioners? Whatever the reason, tower vaults are often elaborate where other vaulting in chancels, naves and aisles is plainer.

The underside of a tower is usually square, though there are a few octagonal examples to be found. In churches (though not always cathedrals), there is frequently a trapdoor to allow the passage of bells to and from the ringing chamber, and this is usually placed in the centre. Consequently, the rib pattern of tower vaulting tends to be symmetrical. However, each decorative boss that often cover the joins of the ribs are usually carved with different designs - shields, foliage, faces and animals are common. Comparing the vaulting designs to be found in different churches, I am frequently delighted by the fertility of the masons' minds. I have never found two exactly the same, and one senses a conscious desire on the builder's part to come up with something different.

Today's photograph shows the tower vault of St John the Baptist, Morton, Lincolnshire, quite a large village church with a tall crossing tower that dates from the 1300s at the bottom and the 1400s above. The vaulting comprises a central circle (with trapdoor), connected directly and indirectly to three ribs that spring from the corners of the tower. These ribs are moulded into four sets of four cusped daggers, one in each corner. Interestingly there are no bosses masking the points where the ribs meet. The great temptation in photographing tower vaults is to point the camera vertically from directly below the centre, then crop the image to make a symmetrical shot that mirrors the four lines of symmetry on display. I usually do this by laying on my back with the camera clamped to my face! Here I decided to place the centre of the vault towards the top of the frame, giving a single line of symmetry that extends down through the nave roof and tall tower arch.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/20
ISO: 800
Exposure Compensation: -1.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On