Hot Diggity Dawg

For those millions of readers who think that our dog, the half Yorkshire/half Jack Russell called Sprocket, doesn't feature enough in this blog, here he is having just discovered how to dig the garden.  

Being a terrier, you would expect him to dig.  After all, the word 'terrier' comes from the Latin 'terra', meaning earth, and these dogs were bred to hunt rodents underground.  They are known to have a great instinct to dig, to the point of it becoming a behavioural problem.  However, to date, Sprock has shown no inclination.  He has other behaviour problems to distract him.  

Then yesterday I dug two holes to plant out two rosemary plants that were looking seriously dilapidated in the confines of plastic pots.  Sprocket decided to help.  And he set to with great gusto.  (By the way, the soil looks funny because it is the area where the leylandii trees were and is, therefore, covered in sawdust and shavings still.)

You have to admire his enthusiasm.  His digging was very helpful and the hole was soon big enough to put the rosemary plants in the ground at last.  The only problem was that Sprocket didn't seem to know when to stop.  And carried on digging the plants back out of the ground.  I think he needs to move on from 'Gardening 101: Digging' to 'Gardening 102: Planting'!

By the way, hot diggity dawg - an expression of extra excitement or anticipation, according to the Urban Dictionary.

More on the Rowdens

We left the story of the Rowdens unresolved, wondering what had happened to Mrs Rowden and curious about why the Reverend Edward Rowden was living in the Old Rectory in 1841 with six month old Margaret, seven year old Elizabeth, eight year old Ellen and 25 year old John.  So what else can we find out about them?  It's amazing how much you can find out from just a few searches on Google...

Edward's father, Francis, married Sophia Goodenough in 1774.  She was from Buckland, which is now in Oxfordshire but was then in Berkshire. Edward, their first child, was born in 1781. He married Elizabeth Wetherall on 29th August, 1811.  He was 30 and had been the Vicar here for seven years.  Elizabeth was 28 and the youngest daughter of Dr Wetherall, Dean of Hereford and Master of University College, Oxford.

They wasted no time in having children.  One year later, in 1812, their first daughter, Sophia Elizabeth, was born.  Poor Elizabeth then went on to have a baby just about every year thereafter: Frances in 1813; Edward Wetherall in 1814; twins, Francis Marmaduke and Maria, in 1815; Harriet, who was born and died in 1817, George Croke in 1820, Jane Margaret in 1821 and Charles Wetherall in 1825.  Nine children in 13 years.  And how strange to have a female Frances and a male Francis? Was this not very confusing for all concerned?  Sadly, Elizabeth died aged only 45 on 9th September, 1825.  It may be that this was related to the birth of Charles, her fourth son and ninth child.

Six years later, in 1831, the Reverend Edward married again.  The bride was Ellen Frances, the eldest daughter of the Reverend Dr Ashfordby Trenchard of Stanton House, Stanford Fitzwarren.  Tragically, Ellen died just three years later in Cheltenham and, rather weirdly, on 8th September, the day before the anniversary of Elizabeth's death.  She was only 38 years old.  She left just one daughter, Ellen Trenchard, who was born in 1832.  This then is the eight year old Ellen who appears in the 1841 census.  But this still leaves unanswered the question of who are the seven year old Elizabeth, the six month old Margaret and the 25 year old John Rowden who were resident at the Old Rectory on the day of that census?  None of these appear to be Edward's children.  The search continues...

Ellen Trenchard Rowden, Daughter of Edward Rowden

I came across this photograph of Ellen, the daughter, whilst searching on the Internet.  It is captioned as follows:

A carte-de-visite portrait of Ellen Trenchard Rowden (1832-1918), photographed by 'Merrick' at Joseph Langridge's photographic studio, 33 Western Road, Brighton, 1862.  Inscribed in ink on the reverse 'Miss Rowden, 1862' and in pencil 'Oct 16th 1862'.  A modern hand has added 'Mrs R.E. Davies'.  Ellen Trenchard was the daughter of Rev Edward Rowden (1780-1869) and his second wife Ellen Ashfordby Trenchard (1796-1834).  Ellen Trenchard Rowden married Richard Edward Elkings Davies on 5th April 1864.

According to Wikipedia, the carte de visite was a type of small photograph, patented in Paris in 1854.  It was usually made of an albumen print, a thin paper photograph mounted on a thicker paper card.  It didn't gain widespread use until 1859 when Emperor Napoleon III's photograph was published in this format.  This made it an overnight success, resulting in 'cardomania' - the trend spread throughout Europe, America and then the rest of the world.

Each photo was the size of a visiting card and they were traded among friends and visitors.  Albums for the collection and display of cards became a common feature of the Victorian parlour.  Their immense popularity led to the publication and collection of photographs of prominent persons - or celebreties as we would call them today.  The cartes de visites lasted until the early 1870s when they were supplanted by cabinet cards, larger and mounted on cardboard backs, which remained popular until the early 20th Century, when the introduction of the Brownie camera meant that anyone could take a snapshot.

So, the history of photography and some history on the Rowdens.  But there is still more to be unearthed about Edward Rowden and the years when he was both vicar of H.... and resident of this house.

Piper at the Gates of Dawn

We were rudely awoken over the Easter break by someone shouting.  With all the walls around here, sound travels very oddly so it is often not entirely clear where it is coming from.  It seemed to be from the Lane.  Or was it someone at our gates?

S pulled back the shutters and looked out.  It was a man.  Dressed as Grayson Perry.  Holding the railings of the gate and shouting 'Christian Racists!'  Cheek!  We are neither.

At seven o'clock in the morning.

Odd.

Bed Making

It's been ages since I blogged about our goings on.  And lots has gone on, I think.  We have sloughs of despondency, despair and hopelessness as we meander along this unending journey with the only deadline being the demise or infirmity of one or other of us (or both, simultaneously!) or some catastrophic financial failure.  At times such as these, this blog comes into its own.  Scrolling back over the posts since those early days, which seem far in the past now, puts everything into perspective and shows how far we have come and how much we have done.  We're invigorated at the moment, just as the Spring is enticing the garden to burst into activity, we are simultaneously leaping about with paint brushes, spades, hammer and tongs.  And making progress.

So, let's start with the thrill that is my new asparagus bed.  I have hankered after such a bed for some time and now that hankering has come to fruition.  I have read about what to do, watched Youtube videos and then I took the plunge and ordered 20 asparagus crowns from Sarah Raven.  Far too many as it turned out but half have gone to a good home so I don't feel too guilty.  We have Millennium for the main season and Gijnlim, an earlier cropping variety.  They are the vegetable garden caviar, according to Sarah, so much sweeter and lovelier if freshly picked.  But you need to be a patient gardener (exit S, stage left) as the roots need time to develop so you have to leave the plants to shoot and flower, not picking until year three.

The instructions said to soak the asparagus well before planting.  I left it in this bucket for a good couple of days, having forgotten about it once I'd put it in.  However, it doesn't seem to have come to any harm.

This was the selected bed, which is the one that we got last year to add to the two that we already had.  A fourth has now arrived to make up the set.

Each asparagus crown looks like an octopus with long dangling roots like legs.  You make a ridge in the soil, lay the asparagus on top and then spread out its legs.

I planted ten, five per row, 30cms apart.  The white stuff is GrowMore or something, just to help it along.

And while I was busy making my asparagus bed, someone else was making his own bed.  And lying in it.

Glazing Over

The title of this blog refers of course to you, dear reader, who must be glazing over at the very thought of yet again hearing about our casement windows.  They left us last year and are yet to return, having been away for something like nine months.  And, no, this isn't due to the fact that our windows are being crafted to the standard of those that grace Sainte-Chapelle in France.  It means that they got left in a corner of the workroom, we suspect, and forgotten.  We have had an 'exchange' with the company in question and are now negotiating a date for their return home.  Of course, if the windows are wonderful, then all will be forgiven and forgotten.

Sainte-Chappelle Windows and NOT the Pantry Windows - Just in Case of Confusion!

Needless to say, having waited all this time, before the windows can actually be refitted, we have discovered that some work needs to be done.  Firstly, to one of the windows in what we call the 'Long Room' - actually two rooms, which are on the top floor.  Secondly, we need to repaint the outside of the windows on the gin terrace.

You can get to the window on the top floor by going by ladder to the flat roof above my mum's downstairs loo and then going up another ladder so that you are standing on the flat roof above the bathroom.  We went up this morning to inspect our trusty builder's work in progress.

The 'Long Room' Window Undergoing Repair

And Another Bit of Roof in Need of Repair

I do love our roof tiles.  Here's a picture just of them in close up.  But I worry greatly at the thought that they might ever need to be replaced or repaired.  Think of the cost!

Lovely Old Roof Tiles

S has spent the past week preparing the windows and has done a pretty good job, if I say so myself.  We are particularly pleased that the lintels are in such good condition and no, we won't be painting them.  However, you might note that the pointing above the lintel is terrible so we intend to scrape it out and have our first go at re-pointing under the supervision of our trusty builder.

This is the middle of the three lower windows.  The frame is not bad, although the sill is not great, as you can see from the second photo.  Again, very happy with the lintel.  (Easily pleased nowadays!)  I should point out that the glass that you see here is temporary and sprayed over because this is my mum's downstairs loo!

The sill of the pantry window has had it and will be replaced.  You don't have to be an expert to work this out, as you will see from the following photographs.

However, the rest of the window seems to be in pretty good nick.  Thankfully.

It was a glorious day on Sunday.  Cold but spring-like with a wonderful blue sky.  I took some pictures of the chimneys while we were up on the roof.  It is very sheltered on the flat roofs as they are in the middle of the u-shape of the house, sheltered on three sides and facing south.  It made us contemplate whether, after all this trouble, we should change the window in the long room to a door and have a roof terrace up there.  However, it's not an immediate priority...

There are some big holes in the walls, which become more apparent from up high.  I dread to think what is getting into them, although I have seen birds flying in and out on the west-side and goodness knows where the squirrels go when they head up the front of the house to the third floor.  All very worrying.  Best not to come up here really!

However, as well as excellent chimney views, there were also good views of the plaque (or datestone) and the three corbels.  All of which are still in need of restoration.  I've read somewhere that the date is 1581 and the initials 'OC', the vicar at that time.  But now can't seem to find my source for that. And is the sign a fish as in the Christian symbol?  More information on this to follow, I think.  Note that you can make out the faces on two of the corbels.

But back to the windows.  How could we get distracted by roof views!  They are now primed and awaiting a decision from our Conservation Officer about what colour we can use.  We are hoping to paint them a Cotswold green or cream.  I am hoping that brilliant white will be unacceptable, given the age of the property.  However, I have to admit that I quite like this battleship grey.

They look better already, don't you think?

When I'd finished painting, S looked at the instructions.  'Do not paint at temperatures less that 8C', it said.  Oh.

Who Lives in a House Like This?

...or rather who lived in a house like this?  

The local Historical Society provided me with some information about the Old Rectory and its inhabitants over the years. It's so interesting - well, for me, it is! - and I’ve been meaning to write about it for some time.  I finally sat down to do so and turned to the first of the census returns that they had given me, which is for 1841.  I then paid to access the UK census online and found some discrepancies in the data.  But other things about the information that I found aroused my curiosity and I started to do some detective work. 

As background, censuses have taken place in the UK every ten years since 1801 apart, that is, from 1941 when the country was in the midst of the Second World War.  I may be wrong and they may be out there somewhere, but I’ve only been able to find 1841 onwards online.  Up until that particular census, they were used principally as a head count.  But then the purpose changed slightly and people were asked to state the name, age, occupation and whether they were UK born or not for everyone resident in each house on the day of the census. 


The return for the Old Rectory for 1841 shows that it was then known as Vicarage House and that the vicar at that time was Edward Rowden, aged 60.  Further investigation revealed that Edward was born in 1781 (although the information below suggests 1780) in Cuxham, near Watlington, South Oxfordshire.  He died in 1869 at the age of 88, having been the Vicar of this parish for 64 years.  There is a board on the Church wall that lists the incumbent vicars over time.  Francis Rowden, presumably Edward's father, was vicar from 1785, which must have been when the family moved from Cuxham.  Another Edward, presumably son of the Edward in question, took over the reins after his father's 64-year stint, although the exact date of his succession isn’t clear from the board.  I don’t know anything about how this worked but it seems that the parish living was passed from father to son.

If Edward took over as vicar from his father in 1804 and if he was then the vicar for 64 years, he presumably stood down in 1868 when he was 87, a year before he died.  According to the Parish Register, the building of a new vicarage house began in 1809 and was completed in the autumn of 1810.  (Interestingly, this required a mortgage of £850, which was to be paid back over a period of 20 years.  Needless to say, rather less than we paid for it.)  

This means that this building is 50 years younger than we thought and this also brings into question the graffiti etched on the side of the house, which seems to clearly say ‘1801’.  However, if these dates from the Parish Register are correct (and presumably they are) then it means that Edward Rowden and his family were the main inhabitant of this house from when it was first built until he died in 1869.  So that's three quarters of a century sorted out!

A carte-de-visite portrait of Reverend Edward Rowden (1780-1869), photographed by "Merrick" at Joseph Langridge's photographic studio, 33 Western Road, Brighton (1862). Inscribed in ink on the reverse "Revd Edward Rowden, 81 years of age - Dec 2nd 1862." The headstone to Reverend Rowden's grave in St Michael's churchyard reads "Rev Edward Rowden M.A. For 65 years vicar of this parish. Died March 27 1869 aged 88 years.

So, turning back to the 1841 census, it shows that, on the date of the return, Edward Rowden was living here with five servants (which might explain why the place is currently covered in cobwebs and dust with only me acting as housekeeper, lady's maid, house maid, parlour maid, scullery maid, laundry maid, cook, gardener, dog groom and general hand servant!) and four other Rowdens: 25 year old John, eight year old Ellen, seven year old Elizabeth and six month old Margaret.  So were these Edward's son and daughters?  If so, why such a large age gap, 17 years, between John and Ellen?  But, most interesting, why is there no mention of Mrs Edward Rowden?  What has happened to her?  Why is this 60-year-old man left alone with such young children?  I was desperate to know more and so I turned to the 1851 and 1861 census returns.

To be continued...

Curiouser and Curiouser

Someone asked me yesterday if we had found anything interesting in the Old Rectory since we moved in.  This reminded me that I have had this blog post in draft form for some while, awaiting photographs, and it highlights some oddities that we have discovered around the house.  The first is in the room where the computer server was when this was offices.  It is now H's 'wardrobe' but is destined to be a wet room (perhaps) in time.  It took us ages to realise that there are hinges on the windowsill and that, therefore, you can lift up the top to find this.  It must have been for a washbasin and tumblers perhaps.

The second thing is graffiti on the wall where we park the cars.  I was reversing out one evening and, with the sun in a certain direction, I could see the numbers '1801'.  I went back the next morning to investigate.  There were initials and a date.  But it is hard to see what it reads.  THARRIS?  THARRIP?  THAR RIP?  

We were clearing out a cupboard under the stairs that leads to the so-called mezzanine bedroom.  This is where the new water tank will go.  Then we discovered that there is a blocked up window in there.  At floor level.  We had thought that the wall was originally an outside wall as it is so very thick.  But we have yet to work out where the window would have been in relation to the rest of the house.  In the photo, you can just see the brick lintel for the window above the pink section where the window has been infilled.

The other oddity that we've yet to investigate is the window in one of the back bedrooms.  The suspicion is that there are shutters in the panelled area below the window that are intended to pull up on the tracks that you can see in the side of the window.  This is according to one of the window specialists who visited but a quick search of Google hasn't revealed anything about this type of shutter.  To be investigated further.

And while we're wandering around the house in this way, we have done some work on trying to complete the bathroom.  S has been working on the floor in the small lobby outside the bathroom.  The plan is to put this back to floorboard (it did have coir on it but massively stained) and then varnish it.

We'll paint the lobby off white and have bought this picture to hang there.  It is a railway poster for Bath, advertising the spa obviously.  Very apt.  We may well hang some shelves here as well.  If you remember, we didn't plan well for storage space in the bathroom.  (It was done in a rush to secure the mortgage, in our defence.)

I've also finally sanded the windows and they are ready to be painted.  A job for next weekend, I hope.

We spent the morning stacking logs, clearing one huge pile before the lumberjacks come back to do the rest.

And the good news is that the bulbs are sprouting so spring must be on its way.  Here's a picture of our most tamed flowerbed at the front of the house to the left of the gates.  A sunny spot usually.  But not today.

Finally, and in answer to the complaints from my reader that he doesn't feature enough, here's a picture of Sprocket in the windy garden.