Manor Farm, Woodmansey, East Riding of Yorkshire

Today was to be all about Beverley, the market town to our north, as far as Hull is to our south. But our first task was to establish a venue for tomorrow morning’s entertainment; the final of the three rugby tests between the All Blacks and the British and Irish Lions. We had learned that the Beverley RUFC was hosting a SKY viewing but where exactly and would we as foreigners, or outsiders, be welcome to join them? We had left messages on a telephone number and sent an enquiry via email, none of which had been answered. However after nearly an hour of messing about we managed to touch base with someone in a position to invite us along; problem solved. 

After this crisis was solved, we found our way to the Tesco supermarket in Beverley which offers three hours of free parking, heavily policed and fined if the restrictions are not adhered to. We reckoned that we would return in time to relocate if necessary, so headed off on foot into the town to explore.

Beverley is in the East Riding of Yorkshire, which Hull would also be if it did not have its own special little administration setup. The town map boasts that “this stunning market town has beauty in abundance” and we would have to agree. It is truly one of the loveliest such towns we have visited.

Just under 30,000 folk call the town home, although the shops along the pedestrianized commercial centre of the town would suggest many more. Beverley was founded around 700 AD by St John of Beverley during the time of the Anglian kingdom of Northumbria, and went on to survive Viking control and into medieval times becoming a very important religious destination. 

John of Beverley who died in AD 721 was an English bishop, first of Hexham, then of York before he founded Beverley by building a monastery here, was associated with miracles during and after his lifetime, and was canonised in 1037. It was this that brought the pilgrims to the town, and with the pilgrims came all the trappings tourists, even barefooted religious ones, need to cater for their wellbeing.

This together with a thriving wool trade once made Beverley the tenth largest town in England, as well as one of the richest. With the River Hull flowing within cooee of the town, it was a simple matter to establish a port on one of the linking streams, Beverley Beck, which was deepened and straightened in the early 12^th century, to make it navigable through to the River Hull.

With this came great medieval industry; cloth-making, brick and tile making, tanning, rope making, iron working, paint and chemical works, boat and ship building, engineering, milling and seed crushing, all going on alongside the Beck, and much of these persevered and grew through to Victorian times.

Understandably the Reformation brought an end to all the goobledy gook of saints and pilgrims, and Beverley lost its pilgrimage destination status.

The town has plugged along although industry alongside the Beck has all gone apart from sundry boat maintenance, but the Minster and St Mary’s alone are enough to draw the tourist, without all the other attractions the town offers simply by existing. I do not need to stress that we were absolutely charmed by the place.

In the first instance, we made our way through the lovely long streets full of wonderful shops, through the Saturday Market with its lovely Market Cross and down to the Wednesday Market, to the Minster with its twin western towers, dominating the skyline on an otherwise flat landscape.

It is the fourth church built on the site, the earlier versions having undergone some rather dramatic events. A serious fire occurred in 1188, then in 1213 the central tower collapsed during a service bringing significant loss of life. Rebuilding gave rise to one of the finest Gothic creations in the country, the west front completed in 1420, considered to be without equal. Various architectural and decorative features in the church are absolutely wonderful, and there is so much light throughout. We were both entranced.

Here too is the Percy Tomb, a shrine to the family who owned much land in the area. This is quite lovely if you can get excited about such fussiness celebrating the dead. Needless to say I do not wish to have anyone fashion any kind of memorial to me when I am gone; let these words floating about the cybersphere be enough!

But the most striking feature of the church was of a temporary nature; an audio installation, “Speculum Musurgica” by Rudi Knoops, due to be moved on in a matter of weeks. This heptagonal media installation consists of ingenious mirror structures and sound projections that invite visitors to walk through the rich polyphonic texture of the music. In a spatialized setting, each of the seven singers is projected individually, for both sound and vision. In the centre of the installation the multiple auditory layers coalesce into a surround sound, two seven voice compositions from Petrus Alamire’s sixteenth century music. (I confess to having plagiarised the artist’s own description of the installation to explain it thus). It is truly superb and I returned again and again to have the almost orgasmic experience of standing within the canopy to be filled with the exquisite sound.

Leaving the Minster we walked back up through the town, now even busier with Friday shoppers and called into the Guildhall which now hosts the museum. The exterior of the building is unimpressive, however is old, the current structure renovated in 1762. The building was purchased by the town’s twelve “keepers” in 1501 to use as a “Gild House”, or meeting place for the trade guilds which effectively ran the medieval town, and it has now continued a civic role for over five hundred years. Several rooms including the Courtroom and the Magistrate’s Room have been restored to their 19^th century status, and are worth a look. Then a couple of rooms downstairs are full of local history, and several volunteers brimming over with historical passion.

Very aware that our parking limit was closing in, we carried on up to the Parish Church of St Mary, built between 1120 and 1525. Originally started as a chapel to the Minster, it represents the finest in English Gothic architectural, and you can see that Beverley sports many superlatives. We were impressed with the chancel ceiling of forty panels representing the kings of England up to Henry VI as well as a bonus one of the last century.

We lunched outside St Mary’s, late because we’d fallen prey to a baker earlier in the day; flaky pastry delights which by rights should have served alone for lunch, however we are not one to waste homemade sandwiches.

It was only a little way further north to the North Bar, the sole survivor of the town’s medieval gates. Inside and out are some lovely 18^th and 19^th century houses and a pub which predates these by centuries. Any pub called “The Rose and Crown” is sure to catch our eye, given that it was the name of the pub Chris grew up in.

Then it was back to Tesco for a newspaper, thus justifying our parking there, before we headed toward the meeting of the River Hull and Beverley Beck. Here is a lock gate which doesn’t look like it gets too much use. There are a few boats tied up along the banks of the Beck including a mini-submarine which has been there since at least 2014. I only know this because I tried to find out more about this oddity online and found a photo of it in dry dock having its bottom scrubbed, but apart from that … who knows?

We parked up and walked back up into the town on one side of the Beck then down the other side, encountering local dog walkers and several fisher-folk who had bought a day’s licence for the privilege.

Back at camp we watched with dismay as several camping parties, most with tents and children arrived to spend the weekend in our patch; we have been spoilt with the peace, previously only one other party in residence.