Old vicarages

click photo to enlarge
One of the common house names in England is "The Old Vicarage". This can be seen on buildings of various ages, from the sixteenth century to the early twentieth century. The adjective "old", doesn't usually refer to the age of the building in terms of years, but tells us that it is the former vicarage and implies that somewhere nearby is the new or current house of the local priest.

The church has to move with the times. Consequently the large Georgian and Victorian vicarages that were provided for the vicars, their families and servants, and which were designed to reflect the importance of the job and offer a suitable place for administration, receiving visitors and entertaining, were often found to be unsuitable and unsustainable in the twentieth century. They were frequently sold to a wealthy buyer or demolished and the land sold for housing. The proceeds from the sale was invariably more than enough to buy or build more suitable premises for the vicar and his or her family.

This has happened in Spalding, Lincolnshire. The old vicarage, a large Georgian house on Church Street, across the road from the medieval St Mary and St Nicholas, facing a conveniently placed gate in the churchyard wall opposite the vicarage's front door, was sold and new premises built on Halmer Gate just round the corner. The new house with garages and a separate parish office is undoubtedly more suited to the family and administrative needs of the current church. However, the modern buildings do lack the charm and style of the old one, particularly the late Georgian porch in the Roman Ionic style. I photographed this on a break from some shopping, captivated by the way the low sun emphasised the details of the facade, and the softer shadows of the churchyard trees as they fell on the pristine blue and white walls.

Incidentally, this building hasn't, to my knowledge, adopted the name of "The Old Vicarage" (though it may well do in the future); that is simply my title for today's photograph. Moreover, the new vicarage is called "The Parsonage", a rather old-fashioned name for such a dwelling..

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (52mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/1000
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation:  -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

Doves, pigeons and breeding seasons

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One of the things I remember from my younger days, a time when I pursued bird-watching with a deeper interest than I do now, is the length of the breeding season of doves and pigeons. To my knowledge it exceeded that of any of the other species of British birds. The rock dove, woodpigeon and others of the Family Columbidae, often begin nesting in February and sometimes don't complete the process until November, having had several broods in the intervening months. That may, in part, account for the very large numbers of woodpigeon that the country now supports.

The collared dove is also a member of this family of birds. When I lived in the Yorkshire Dales I never saw a single example. However, my move to eastern England in 1971 immediately remedied that, and I soon became familiar with their insistent and monotonous call from March through to October. Given that this relative newcomer to our shores (it arrived in numbers only in the middle of the last century) has quickly achieved the status of one of the least liked birds, it cannot be good news for many that it is a prolific breeder.

I don't know a great deal about the habits of feral pigeons, but the fact that they are, in the main, descended from the wild rock dove, suggests that they too will have a long breeding season. Consequently, when I saw this white dove and a second parti-coloured bird in the porch at Sutterton church recently, I assumed that they were reconnoitring it for a nest site rather than seeking any kind of shelter. The bird in the photograph allowed us to get quite close, and never left its perch. Only when I came to process my photograph did it occur to me that it was trying to give some symmetry to the carvings on the column capital by reflecting the stone bird on the left!

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640 sec
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Games, money, myopia and heritage

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Our government of political pygmies makes much of the need for cuts in public expenditure and the fact that, as far as the current financial crisis goes, "we're all in it together". However, virtually every day they do something that undermines these claims; that demonstrates it's the poor, women, the old, public sector workers, the marginalised and the cultural community who will bear the brunt of the spending cuts.

Last week the government shot themselves in their collective feet once again. Fearing that the opening ceremony of the 2012 Olympic Games might be a touch underwhelming compared with the efforts of previous Games they immediately sanctioned a further £41m taking the budget for this single short spectacle to over £80m. Then, turning their attention to security, decided to almost double that budget too - from £282m to £553m. If, like me, you see the Olympic Games as an optional, low importance expenditure, you can only gaze open-mouthed at the facile way in which sums of this magnitude are found and disbursed. Then wonder turns to anger when you consider what it might have been spent on.

I can think of countless more worthy recipients of £300+m but I'll mention just one. The body that channels public funding into helping to maintain our architectural heritage - including buildings such as the one shown in today's photograph - is called English Heritage. In October 2010 it had its grant cut by 32%. A reduction of that order is not so much a cut as an amputation. Surely, even the most myopic politician is capable of seeing that the few tens of millions it would take to restore the funding would generate revenue year on year from increased tourism. In fact, our politicians don't seem to understand the main reasons why visitors come to Britain and seem to think that the Olympic Games and their increased spending will be repaid by more tourists. Fat chance say I.

Today's image shows the porch on the west range at Castle Acre Priory in Norfolk. This religious site was was closed in 1537 and fell into disrepair and ruin. However it is still possible to see something of what it was from the extant walls, buildings and foundations. Much of the site dates from the late C11 and C12, with additions from each subsequent century until its demise. The porch is a relatively late building with a fine mixture of local styles represented on its facade.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 50mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/100
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

The pleasure of the familiar

click photo to enlarge
I recently got rid of an old winter shirt. It wasn't just any shirt, it was my favourite shirt, a checked garment that I'd worn with pleasure for more years than I can remember. I was so fond of it that I found it a real wrench to give it up. But, the cuffs were falling apart and were beyond repair. Four or five years ago I'd come close to dispensing with it. On that occasion the collar had become threadbare to the point where it was quite noticeable. However, my talented wife, after a bout of heavy persuasion from me, took the collar off and sewed it on the other way round, with the offending section hidden under the fold. After I got it back an air of contentment settled on me once more. From this you might think that I'm a skinflint - I'm not (well not that much!), or that I don't like to buy new clothes - I do (but not that much!) No, they weren't the issue. There was something much more fundamental to the human psyche at work here, something to do with our liking for that which is familiar, and that which has given us good service. It's often the case that we don't like to change or get rid of such things.

Take the porch in today's photograph. It is on the south side of Walcot church in Lincolnshire, a building that has featured in this blog in two other photographs here and here. The structure dates from the fourteenth century, though some twelfth century stonework has been incorporated. The door that is just visible is early eighteenth century, and the outer gate is older than such things usually are. However, whilst most of these details can be dated by their stylistic peculiarities, the cracked stone floor can't. It was the way the light fell on this old surface that prompted my photograph. Like most old churches this one has been restored down the centuries. Walcot church's foundations were renewed in 1889, and general restoration took place in 1907 and 1926. Does the stone floor of the porch date from any of these make-overs? I'd guess not. In 1889 they'd certainly have laid a floor that would not have sunk and cracked, and probably would have used some decorative tiles. It can't be later than that date. So, why wasn't it restored? Why is this old surface still in use? My guess is that the parishioners liked its character, enjoyed the step that is worn down by the footfall of successive generations of worshippers, and wanted to retain that with which they were familiar. Maybe they didn't want to spend their money on shiny, fashionable tiles of unproven worth. A new floor (like a new shirt) just isn't the same as a tried and trusted old favourite!

Incidentally this photograph was taken with the LX3 set to the aspect ratio of 16:9, and has a small amount cropped off the bottom. I've taken a few subjects in portrait format using this ratio where it seems the most suitable option.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Lumix LX3
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 5.1mm (24mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f2.8
Shutter Speed: 1/250
ISO: 80
Exposure Compensation: -1.0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On