Sunday 3 May 2015, 11 degrees and rainy
Last Sunday we went from one narrow space (the boat) to another when my chap and I visited the moated medieval and Elizabethan manor house, Harvington Hall near Kidderminster. Famed for its seven priest holes built by Nicholas Owen (who met a sticky end), it’s one of my chap’s favourite places. It was discovered as a tumble-down ruin in the 1920s. Now run by the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Birmingham, it’s been spared the National Trust blanding process.
The weather was sunny and spring happy: in the grounds, pink blossoms hugged branches and were tugged off by a winsome breeze. Inside, the guide showed us the priest holes in turn, asking how we’d rate each for space, comfort and safety. In some, there was not even enough room to lie down. Priest hunters would corral the family of the house into one room, then remain in situ for six days listening for priests knocking about under the floorboards.
When we were taken to the library, situated on an unusual mezzanine floor, there was a new treat in store. The guide exhorted the slimmest four amongst us to squeeze through a false beam in the wall. Having struggled into my jeans that morning, I was grateful to be picked.
The beam swung up like a stage set. I didn’t enjoy the prickly moment of going in and out through the narrow hole but the space inside felt rather cosy. We found ourselves in a perfect little oblong of a room with a wooden floor and enough space to sit, stand and breathe. The design was quite miraculous in fact. As a ‘live aboard’, I’m getting used to small spaces. It would have been less fun in the 1600s though.
At the end of the tour, as we made to rejoin the sunshine, a sign on the door said, “BEWARE! CANADA GEESE. There are two at the end of the island, they can be bit vicious if approached.” That was another thing that made Harvington Hall feel like home. The marina geese are not so vicious but they are many.
I asked if it’s illegal to kill them. “Not if they get shot by a longbow,” an elderly guide said, winking at me. “Happens quite often on our reconstruction days.”
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