Heritage

Wallowing in nostalgia – a visit to Newcastle’s Lit & Phil Library

Posted on by Platypus Man

For nearly half a century libraries dominated my life. First as a student, when I spent my days scouring the bookshelves in search of an answer to the latest question posed by my professors, and then as a qualified librarian committed to ensuring that access to culture, information and learning was available to everyone regardless of their personal circumstances. Mrs P is also a librarian – yes, that’s right, we first met in a library! – so it is no surprise that when we are travelling we make a point of checking out interesting local libraries.

The library of the Literary and Philosophical Society definitely proved worthy of a visit, when we recently stopped off in the city of Newcastle-on-Tyne for a couple of days while travelling north to Scotland. The Lit & Phil, as it is popularly known, was founded as a “conversation club” in 1793 with an annual membership subscription of one guinea, equivalent to about £200 (265 USD) in today’s money. Its members were therefore inevitably drawn from the elite of Newcastle society, enterprising and inquisitive souls who were keen to expand their horizons and drive progress.

While the social exclusivity of the original Lit & Phil perhaps feels a little uncomfortable today, at the time the Society was seeking to drive change rather than act as an obstacle to it. It was liberal in its outlook and tone. For example, in a world in which misogyny was deeply ingrained, it is notable that by 1804 women were being admitted as members. It is also notable that in 1820, The Newcastle upon Tyne Society for the Gradual Abolition of Slavery in the British Dominions was established at a meeting held at the Lit & Phil. The world was changing and the Literary and Philosophical Society, supported by the resources of its magnificent library, was an agent of that change.

The current library building dates from 1825

In this modern, digital age we have the whole world at our fingertips; copious quantities of information on every conceivable subject – and quite a few inconceivable ones too! – just a few clicks away. We have, I believe, come to take this for granted, and the younger generation in particular finds it difficult to comprehend that printed books were once vital keys to personal learning and development. Nearly 200 years before the creation of the internet, the founders of the Newcastle’s Literary and Philosophical Society clearly understood the importance of printed material, and so it was inevitable that the Lit & Phil’s library would be the beating heart of their grand project.

The legacy of the Society’s founders lives on today in a library that is home to around 170,000 volumes, making it the largest independent library outside London. Some of the books date back centuries, while others were published just the other day. Our visit felt like stepping back in time, and although some users were huddled over their laptops and one or two tapped away at their mobile phones, printed books dominated the show. Mrs P and I felt totally at home there, and could happily have set up camp!

Lit & Phil members enjoy some elegant surroundings!

But the Society has never been just about the books. From the very beginning membership offered the opportunity to meet up with like-minded people, and to attend lectures, debates and demonstrations of ground-breaking technology. That tradition continues. Today an annual subscription of around £200 gives the Lit & Phil’s 1,900 paid up members borrowing rights in the library, and access to a range of events and activities including book launches, concerts, lectures, readings and workshops covering a variety of topics and issues.

The Lit & Phil feels a bit quaint and quirky in our mad modern world, but that is part of its charm. It provides a peaceful safe haven from the ranting and raving of duplicitous politicians, and offers a deliberative and thoughtful alternative to the fast-paced but shallow-minded world of social media and the internet. I have no doubt that if we lived a bit closer to Newcastle, Mrs P and I would happily pay the membership fee and spend many happy hours in the Lit & Phil library, wallowing in nostalgia for a lost world.

Wordless Wednesday: The Abbot’s House

Posted on by Platypus Man

Wordless Wednesday is a simple blog post featuring a photo. It seeks to convey a message or tell a story, but speaks for itself without using words. Mrs P’s photo shows the Abbot’s House in Shrewsbury (Shropshire), which dates from the mid-15th century

Stowe House – from debtor’s folly to cathedral of learning

Posted on by Platypus Man

Back in the 18th century Stowe House – together with its associated gardens – was one of the finest estates in England, playing an important role in the development of British architecture and landscape design. But the family responsible for its creation also oversaw its spectacular decline. A lavish lifestyle brought them to the brink of ruin, and a costly visit by Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in 1845 finally pushed them over the edge.

Stowe House – rear aspect

Three years later, in 1848, the estate land and house contents were sold to help pay off the family’s debts. The Times newspaper wrote this of Stowe’s owner, the 2nd Duke of Buckingham and Chandos –

‘He has flung all away by extravagance and folly, and reduced his honours to the tinsel of a pauper and the bauble of a fool.’

Ouch, that sounds a bit harsh! On the other hand, the man’s debts were truly extraordinary. At the time these were reckoned to stand at almost £1.5m, equivalent to a staggering £232m (USD 317m) today. He was described by contemporaries as “the greatest debtor in the world”. Well, I guess everyone’s got to be good at something, and the dear old Duke clearly had an unsurpassed talent for spending money he didn’t have!

Top: Front aspect. Bottom: Rear aspect

In 1847 the Duke did a runner, fleeing abroad to escape his creditors. The auction of Stowe House’s contents the following year lasted 40 days, during which time anything of significant value was sold. Although the family retained ownership of the house itself, they no longer had the resources to adequately maintain it. By 1921 they had no choice but to sell up and move out.

Stowe’s future looked bleak, and demolition loomed. But at the last minute the house was saved when it was purchased and converted into a public school. For readers unfamiliar with the way we Brits make mischief with our own language, a “public school” is in fact what our North American cousins would call a “private school”, an exclusive, fee-paying, private institution. In the UK “public schools” are only open to those members of the public who are rolling in money.

The Music Room

Stowe School first opened its doors to pupils in May 1923, with 99 boys on the register. To accommodate them, rooms in the main house were refurbished and turned into classrooms and dormitories, and additional buildings were erected in the school grounds. Today 876 young people between the ages of 13 and 18 are educated at Stowe, including 374 girls. This is how the school describes itself:

“Stowe is the contemporary British independent school. We are a fully co-educational, boarding and day school. Pupils are educated in a sublime environment that produces confident young people. We emphasise academic achievement alongside other learning experiences. Balance is important, for the well-being of pupils and for maximising their academic and intellectual attainment. Stowe’s unique surroundings and unrivalled facilities help in the development of well -rounded individuals.” Source: Independent Schools Council website, retrieved 20 August 2026.

Sounds great doesn’t it, refreshingly progressive. Why wouldn’t you want your kids to attend this great cathedral of learning, spending their days in the magnificent surroundings of an 18th century architectural gem? Well, cost might be a bit of an issue…as per the webpage referenced above, one term’s boarding fee is £15,567, PLUS 20% Value Added Tax. I make that an all-in annual fee of about £56,000 (USD 76,000) per boarding pupil.

The State Dining Room

To put into context the cost of sending a young person to Stowe School, in October 2025 the Office for National Statistics quoted the UK’s annual average full-time salary to be a shade over £39,000. Clearly, therefore, Stowe and schools like it are completely out of reach for most British families.

Don’t get me wrong, I totally understand why parents who can afford it pay handsomely to send their children to places like this. Parents want to do the best for their kids, and I applaud them for that. But let’s speak plainly here – in reality, opportunities like this are available only to a wealthy, privileged minority, thus helping to perpetuate a class system that has bedevilled English society for hundreds of years. I just hope Stowe’s pupils appreciate how fortunate they are.

From a wider perspective, the primary benefit of Stowe House being turned into a school was that it saved a magnificent building that might otherwise have been demolished, as so many grand mansions were during the period of inter-war austerity. Better still, small parts of the building are now opened up on occasions for viewing by camera-toting tourists like me and Mrs P. We enjoyed our afternoon there, glimpsing worlds that are unfamiliar to us. The best of the architecture is wonderful, although I found it difficult to imagine ever living anywhere so huge and elegant.

Left: The Blue Room. Right: The Library

Nor could I imagine what it is like to spend one’s schooldays at Stowe. I’m sure its pupils receive a high-quality education in various fields, including academic subjects and practical life skills. Let’s hope their lessons also include some simple guidance on domestic budget management, so they don’t follow in the footsteps of the 2nd Duke of Buckingham and Chandos. His extravagance and folly should serve as a lesson to us all, both old and young,

George Washington did NOT live here, but his great-great-great-great-great grandaddy did!

Posted on by Platypus Man

The US flag flutters happily from one of the flagpoles at the front of Sulgrave Manor. In the garden is a bust of George Washington, while a portrait of the famed American Founding Father hangs in one of the rooms. What’s this all about, we wonder? Why are we celebrating the US in general, and George Washington in particular, in this remote, rural corner of the English county of Northamptonshire? Washington cannot possibly have lived here or even visited, as he never left American soil apart from a brief visit to Barbados. So just what is going on?

Sulgrave Manor dates from the mid-16th century and was built by wealthy wool merchant Lawrence Washington. Nearly one hundred years later the family fell upon hard times, having backed the losing horse (King Charles I) in the English Civil War. A new beginning was called for, prompting Colonel John Washington – the great, great grandson of Sulgrave’s founder – to emigrate to the Colony of Virginia in 1657. Colonel John clearly made a good decision, and just over 120 years later his great grandson George proved himself the ultimate embodiment of the American dream when he landed the new nation’s top job – the first ever President of the USA.

Bicentennial Washington by Avard T. Fairbanks (1897 – 1987)

So what’s the big deal? Why do visitors seek out this building, and pay handsomely for the privilege of visiting it? Sulgrave Manor is an unexceptional Tudor house. Just because a building is old it doesn’t have to be interesting. Sulgrave is not, at first glance, very interesting. Nor, indeed, at second glance either! It has undergone multiple alterations over the centuries. Neither in its architectural features nor in its contents does it bear much resemblance to the manor house Lawrence Washington commissioned around 1539. He would barely recognise it; nor, of course, would the first President of the US, because he never went there!

The Entrance Hall

Historic England, the government body responsible for ensuring that important buildings are protected by law, has given Sulgrave Manor its highest rating – Grade 1 – which indicates a building of “exceptional interest”. I’ve questioned in a previous post whether it is right, or necessary, to protect a building for posterity simply because someone famous once lived there. But in Sulgrave’s case nobody famous lived there anyway, just the remote ancestor of some guy who one day made it big on the other side of the world!

The Great Bedchamber

Delving deeper, however, we learn that there is a better explanation for the attention Sulgrave receives today. In 1911, with the centenary of the ending of the British-American War of 1812 fast approaching, former president Theodore Roosevelt proposed the creation of a permanent memorial to celebrate 100 years of peace between the two nations. Sulgrave Manor was identified as a suitable location, and a fundraising campaign was launched targeting prominent citizens and philanthropists on both sides of the Atlantic. In 1914 the British Peace Centenary Committee purchased Sulgrave at a cost of $42,500. The opening ceremony in 1921 was attended by former President Taft and members of the British Royal Family.

The Oak Parlour

So there we have it. Although the building is old and the historic links with President Washington’s ancestral family are plain to see, international friendship is fundamental to Sulgrave’s significance today. The Sulgrave Manor Trust is an independent charity with two legal objectives:

  • “To preserve Sulgrave Manor (the ancestral home of the family of George Washington, the first president of the United States of America) for the public benefit. 
  • To provide and support education in subject areas relevant to Sulgrave Manor and its historic role in the history of Anglo-American relations, and to the history, literature and institutions of the United States.”

Buried within the Sulgrave Manor website is this sentence: “To this day, Sulgrave Manor continues to serve as a memorial to Anglo-American friendship“. As someone who has enjoyed countless visits to the US, travelling to all 50 states where we were warmly welcomed by our local hosts, I am happy to support the sentiments that underpin the Sulgrave project. All relationships have their ups and downs, but the things that separate the UK and the US are trivial in comparison with those that unite us. Long may it continue.

She must have loved him! And maybe herself too, just a bit?

Posted on by Platypus Man

Driving along the North Wales Expressway (A55) it is impossible to miss the Marble Church. The spire is 202 feet (62m) high, dominating the skyline of the little town of Bodelwyddan and the surrounding countryside. It’s a striking sight and also an impressive example of marital devotion, the church having been commissioned by a widow in memory of her beloved husband.

The Marble Church, Boddelwyddan
The spire is visible from miles around

In 1829 Margaret Williams, the daughter of a wealthy North Wales landowner, secured her perfect marriage. The man of her dreams was Henry Peyto, the sixteenth Baron Willoughby de Broke. As such she became Lady Margaret, and went off to England to live on Henry’s estate in Warwickshire for the next 23 years.

When he died in 1852, Lady Margaret evidently decided that she’d had enough of life in the English Midlands and elected to return to her ancestral Welsh estate. However, she was in no mood to forget Henry and petitioned the Bishop of Asaph to create a separate parish for the town Bodelwyddan, complete with its own parish church to serve as a memorial to her late husband.

Marble…
…and more marble

The Bishop readily agreed, no doubt aware that the financial generosity of Lady Margaret – supported by her brother Sir Hugh Williams – would enable the construction of a landmark building. And indeed, they paid a huge sum to deliver the project. Work began in 1856, and the church was finally consecrated in 1860. The total cost was around £60,000, equivalent to about £9.5m (USD 12.7m) in today’s money.

Constructed mainly from limestone quarried in North Wales, the church is notable for containing no fewer than 14 different types of marble, including pillars of Belgian red marble, flooring of Sicilian marble, and other features fashioned from French (Languedoc) marble, Griotte marble from France and Belgium, and Kilkenny black marble from Ireland. Although it was nicknamed the “Pearl of the Vale” immediately after its construction it is no surprise that the building soon became popularly known as the Marble Church.

The pulpit is elegantly carved
The font features Sir Hugh Williams’ daughters!

Other notable features of the Marble Church include a finely carved pulpit, an artistically styled font representing two girls (Sir Hugh Williams’ daughters!) holding a shell, and some fine stained glass windows. Plainly no expense was spared in the creation of Lady Margaret’s splendid memorial to her late husband.

But, when we visited the church a few weeks ago, I did find it odd that Henry is not the star of his own memorial. The font, as we have seen, features his brother-in-law’s daughters. And although there is a portrait of Lady Margaret in the entrance to the church, there is no mention at all of Henry on the foundation plaque above the porch, which reads –

This stone was laid, July the 24th, 1856, by Margaret Willoughby de Broke, who founded, erected and endowed this Church at her own expense in the devout hope that it might tend to the glory of God.

‘Mine House shall be called a House of prayer for all people.’ Isiah 56:7

And it’s worth noting that the Church is dedicated to Saint Margaret. I admit this could be pure coincidence, but really?

I have no doubt that Lady Margaret Willoughby de Broke loved her late husband dearly. But I suspect she loved herself just a bit too.

Wordless Wednesday – Tudor

Posted on by Platypus Man

Wordless Wednesday is a simple blog post featuring a photo. It seeks to convey a message or tell a story, but speaks for itself without using words. Mrs P took this photo of Gawsworth Hall in Cheshire, which dates from approximately 1480 to 1600, in 2014.

The North Norfolk Railway and the romance of steam

Posted on by Platypus Man

One of the highlights of our recent visit to Norfolk was a trip on the county’s award-winning heritage railway. The North Norfolk Railway covers a distance of around 5.5 miles (9km), from the Georgian town of Holt to Sheringham, a seaside town on the North Norfolk coast. A nineteenth century poet once named the area around Sheringham as Poppyland, which was his way of paying homage to the masses of poppies that carpeted local fields. For this reason the railway is popularly known as the Poppy Line.

The countryside through which the Poppy Line passes is indeed scenic, the railway architecture is atmospheric and the historic rolling stock is eye-catching. However, I’m fairly certain the reason most people take a trip on the North Norfolk Railway is to get up close and personal with its steam locomotives.

Let’s be brutally honest for a minute – steam trains are the quintessential example of yesterday’s technology. They are noisy, smelly and dirty emitters of CO2, and as such are the very antithesis of the brave new, pollutant-free world we are trying to build in the 21st century. And yet, as the hordes of happy visitors to the Poppy Line prove, they remain massively popular. So we have to wonder, why is this? What is it that makes steam trains so popular?

It is, I suspect, because steam trains are perceived as characters in their own right. Modern transportation systems tend to be anonymous and sterile. Steam trains, however, have a life of their own, they are like “living machines”. The things that distress us about them – the noise, the smell, the pollution – are the very things that help give steam trains their distinctive personality. A journey on one of them is a massive and strangely appealing sensory experience. There’s nothing anonymous or sterile about a hissing locomotive clattering down the tracks while spewing smoke and steam into the sky.

And let’s not forget the nostalgia that steam trains evoke. We live in fraught, complex times and many of us hanker after a simpler way of life. Steam trains are the product of a bygone, simpler age and a journey on one is an invitation to wallow in nostalgia for a while. It’s romantic nonsense, of course – very few of us would actually have been happier living in the days when steam ruled supreme, in the days when fewer medical conditions were treatable, more people went hungry and nobody had a mobile phone! And were steam trains more comfortable and reliable than their modern day electric successors? I don’t think so!

But hey, escapism in small doses is not necessarily a bad thing, and the romance of steam – as served up by a journey on the North Norfolk Railway’s Poppy Line – offers the perfect opportunity to escape. I thoroughly recommend it.

The closest I’ll ever get to an Oscar…or a Nobel Prize!

Posted on by Platypus Man

A few weeks ago, to break our journey home after visiting family down South, we called in at the house known as Shaw’s Corner. It is one of those National Trust properties that is remarkably unremarkable, with few if any architectural or design features that merit a second glance. I suspect it is part of the National Trust’s portfolio only because someone remarkable once lived on the premises. George Bernard Shaw definitely falls into that category, being one of only two* people ever to have won both an Oscar and a Nobel Prize.

George Bernard Shaw’s Oscar, awarded in 1939 for his screenplay of Pygmalion

George Bernard Shaw (1856 – 1950) was born in Dublin, but moved to London at the age of 20 to pursue a career as a writer. During his lifetime he wrote more than sixty plays, and as a committed socialist also passionately supported a range of progressive – and sometimes contentious – political and social causes. As the leading dramatist of his generation he was highly influential in the development of Western theatre, and as such was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1925.

Shaw’s Corner, George Bernard Shaw’s primary residence between 1906 and 1950, is remarkably unremarkable

Shaw’s most famous work – written in 1913 – was Pygmalion, a comic exploration of the class distinctions that are so deep-rooted within British society. In 1938 he adapted Pygmalion into a screenplay for a movie of the same name. This was further transformed into My Fair Lady in 1956, that movie being the creation of Lerner and Loewe as Shaw had refused to re-work it as a musical. It is for his original film adaptation that Shaw was awarded an Oscar.

As a witty and observant writer, George Bernard Shaw left behind a wealth of quotes that remain relevant today. Here are just a few that resonate with me:

“He knows nothing; and he thinks he knows everything. That points clearly to a political career.”

“You don’t stop laughing when you grow old, you grow old when you stop laughing.”

“Both optimists and pessimists contribute to society. The optimist invents the aeroplane, the pessimist the parachute.”

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

“Beware of false knowledge; it is more dangerous than ignorance.”

Shaw’s Corner was the playwright’s primary residence between 1906 and his death in 1950. It was built in 1902 as the rectory for the village of Ayot St Lawrence in Hertfordshire. However the Church of England quickly decided the building was too large for the size of the parish. Shaw and wife took up residence instead, initially as tenants before buying the house and its land in 1920.

Spot the Oscar!

Today, the National Trust has laid out and furnished the rooms much as they were in Shaw’s time. His Academy Award statuette stands on the fireplace mantel, where visitors can admire it from afar. Meanwhile, the citation certificate for his Nobel Prize is securely displayed in an upstairs cabinet.

Citation certificate for the Nobel Prize for Literature, awarded in 1925

In my view, visiting a house simply because a famous person once lived there is not necessarily a good use of one’s time. Shaw’s Corner is an uninspiring property, and at no point could I sense the great man’s presence. But the time we spent there was not entirely wasted. Even though this blog is getting a lot of views these days it’s never going to win me any prizes. So, without doubt, Shaw’s Corner is the closest I’ll ever get to an Oscar or the Nobel Prize for Literature!

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* In case you are wondering, the other person to be awarded both an Oscar and the Nobel Prize for Literature was Bob Dylan.