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National Trust Daytrip: Coughton Court
For those that are unaware I have now moved back to London to start working again. I have picked up a job in the Zavvi Megastore (formerly Virgin Megastore) on the corner of Oxford St. and Tottenham Court Rd. and for those that are unaware of where that is, I think "the centre of London" will suffice as an explanation.
You should all be very proud of my endeavour of walking in London, I have now perfected the fine art of eyes to the ground, snivelling looks at tourists who decide that at the busiest time of the year they are going to stand in the centre of the pavement for numerous minutes trying to get the perfect shot of one insignificant retail store, which is nigh impossible due to the immense amount of sardine squashed like people trying to get somewhere. I have the serious strut down pat and have refined the skills of people dodging. It honestly is an art, a craft that must be mastered for fear of being trampled by the thousandth eager lady who has been deprived of normal affection and feels she needs to buy excessive amounts of cheap perfume (cat urine) to make herself feel better. Its horrifying really ... and my poor nostrils. I swear its the industrial smog and overuse of awful perfume that keeps the warmth in London city.
However it is worth my saying that in my time at the West Midlands, I experienced many a National Trust day-trip to some truly remarkable places which I feel ought to be shared; a memoir written for each one so they are further preserved in my memory and archived on this site.
The first daytrip in the West Midlands was to Coughton Court and it's surrounding estate, which consisted of two naturally lit gothic church's complete with the crumbling ruins of a graveyard decked in mossy granite, cracked stones and a depth of melancholic solitude only the dead can command. The Church yards and the temples of worship were the highlight for me, the stillness that crept into the early night was really quite eerie, and to spend time amongst parishners centuries in age was quite daunting. It is fair to say that the buildings themselves were in a state of death at this time, the death of day, as the night blanketed the sunlight the interior of the church was drained of all colour, it became a wash of grey tones with the subtle attack of white marble. In comparison a representation of what lay underneath the cracked epitaphs a dark and cold world with the mouldy white of a decaying skeleton. All very hypnotic in imaginings and downright spooky.
The Court itself is the property of the Throckmorton's a family entrenched in the "Gunpowder Plot" to destroy parliament in 1605. A failed assasination and one that led to the infamous status of one "Guy Fawkes" and his almost religous burning of a "Guy Fawkes" dummy by the English everywhere on the 5th of November. Quite haunting really that families across the nation to this day burn a bonfire and throw a straw man representing Mr. Fawkes onto it cheering and saluting his death every year whilst explosions of colour glitter the sky in the form of fireworks. It comes to a point where you must ask how many times does Guy Fawkes have to suffer death?
Just so you know, the plot aptly named the "Gunpowder Plot" involved Fawkes and a cohort of followers: Filling an abandoned cellar underneath the House of Lords with 36 barrels of gunpowder, their mission to ignite it on the State Opening day, killing King James I of England & VI of Scotland along with a large part of his family and a majority of Protestant aristocrats. As you may or may not know times were turbulent between Protestant and Roman Catholics at this time in history *in particular*. Fawkes was Catholic.
The short of it is: *They Failed*
Which in truth is a wonderful thing, due to the fact that if 36 barrels were ignited not only would we have a vastly different looking world now, not only would it have forced the hidden dirty laundry between the two religions to be thrown in front of the rest of the world most spotlighted (not that it didn't anyway .. but you know ..) but it also would have detonated the majority of the buildings in that particular complex including but not limited to Westminster Abbey, which I am sure many recognise is a precious building that is a focal point for English history.
The Throckmortons in particular who had owned "Coughton Court" in the Midlands since the delicate year of 1409 and still to this day were strong Catholic activists and became leaders in the emancipation. Rightly so I say, at this time the crown had foreswarn the destruction of catholicism fearing a religion that followed the Pope and the Vatican instead of the King of England was a threat to the throne. It was strongly believed that Catholics held no allegience to the Royal seat and were forbidden to practice. Priests were arrested for treason among many awful events subjected on the practicing catholics, who in truth wanted no more than "freedom of worship" something I believe the world still struggles with today.
Some of the highlights of the house have to be the ornately dressed living room where the Gunpowder Plot was discussed and planned. A room not stately but swimming with images of a corrupt past, a room "dirtied" (some would say) with the past presence of treason and fraud. Another highlight would be the now uncovered "priest holes" which were hiding places within the walls and turrets of the tudor house utilised for hiding visiting priests and religious figures who were advocates of an illegal Catholic community. Holes no bigger than a broom closet or airing cupboard in a current house, such an degrading and demeaning thing for a man of worship to do, hide for hours on end in a grippingly dark chamber, damp and not impartial to the chill of a cold country.
The golden fleece of the building was cast upon the wall of the "tallest room, in the tallest tower" a weaved cloth, monolithic in size recovered centuries later, having never seen a constant stream of eyes or daylight due to the hush tones of the world when it was formed. On it hand painted the majority of the Catholic recusants, the coats of arms that were the family emblems and the heads of the Royal lineage and associates responsible for the attempt at crushing a faith.
The house is elegant, and spectacular, but rather than marvelling at the riches of the estate, you instead are drawn into the convoluted part of history it is so very aligned with. You are encircled in political intrigue, murder, civil dispute, and the very death of a religion. As we know, a faith is not easy to eliminate, people will always believe. The fact that a presumptious King and "country" attempted it is a sad but an educational part of the past and one that simply cannot be ignored. Indeed that is what Coughton Court stands for, the preservation of an act of horror and one we need to remember as a precedent for which we should conduct ourselves today.
Still in the same family now, the house is well looked after and gleans a very homely feel for its hundreds of visitors. The gardens are quite spectacular as well, unfortunately limited to a hidden beauty during the onset of winter I was unable to marvel at the draping roses and lush garden beds. But still got the feel of a cared for garden, one that comandeered a lot of time and effort.
The conclusion to the day? Why, it had to be English tea, a scone with fresh cream and strawberry jam. How utterly delightful it all was.
Stay tuned for the next installment it comes soon.
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