Clifford Has Heft

Wednesday 17 September, we took ourselves to the Castle Museum adjacent the remaining tower of the York Castle, William the Conqueror’s largest and most important stronghold for containing the north.

The Museum had a little of everything. It started out as a repository for a private collector, curios and whatnots, and has grown into an excellent museum for the city. We saw mechanical puppet shows and other similar devices, a section on nineteenth and early twentieth century fashion and some even older, including one of Queen Victoria’s mourning outfits, that is to say, one of her everyday outfits for getting around the palace. However, the highlight for both of us was the little Victorian exhibit that consisted of a number of streets and shops that you could wander into. It had coaches and horses, a police station, a school room, an apothecary, retail outlets, a haberdasher, all with a soundtrack that had chickens clucking in the background, horses neighing and their hooves on the cobblestones coming and going, human voices chatting and calling, a hive of business and energy. I loved it. In fact, we both did.

We were only half-way through the museum by this point and decided to push on to the other half which started with Britain’s experience of the Great War. The ambience changed and, tired after the first half, we rushed through this section and decided to give the rest a miss. Sitting outside in the fresh air under the gaze of the remaining part of the castle, actually the keep of the castle, now called Clifford Tower, Chris decided he would head off home and I would ‘do’ Clifford Tower on my own. This we did.

As you readily see from the pics, the castle is perched way up high on an earthen mound. The stair way to get up to its base felt like the stairway to heaven. As I went up, I started to feel early signs of vertigo, the feeling that I could fall backwards down the stairs. It was not strong, and I made it to the top, glad to be there, the ground floor of the castle, paid for ‘me ticket what gets you in’ and found myself in a large roundish/octagonal room that had alcoves around its circumference and with the requisite arrow holes to deter any uprising from those occupying Vikings at Jorvik, York’s medieval name, and any wannabe nasty northmen. Those damn Scots. So far, so good.

Here's a sentence or two from the Wiki entry about the castle.

“Clifford's Tower is of an unusual design. The two-storey tower has a quatrefoil plan with four circular lobes. Each lobe measures 22 ft (6.7 m) across, with walls 9 ft 6 in (2.90 m) thick; at its widest, the tower is 79 ft (24 m) across.”

It’s what I would call ‘a chunky castle’. Clifford has heft.

Inside, there were two spiral staircases that went up to the next level, but there was also a modern staircase up to the middle floor. I took this and half-way up, realised that you could see through it to the ground below. It was of a construction that saw its flooring as slats that you walk over rather than along. For me, it may as well have been made of glass, because it triggered some vertigo. Again, not severe, but enough to make its presence felt and keep me wary and hyper-sensitive. I trotted along the various see-through walkways looking for all the world like I had a mobility disability. However, I looked at the King’s Chapel whose floor seem to slope down to the wall. Not great for playing marbles on I would have imagined. The chapel was plain as would befit a stronghold. I also took a look at the King’s latrine. Very fetching.

Next, the roof. I had come this far. At least that was my rationale. The only way up to the expansive open-air roof was either of the spiral staircases. I chose one and gingerly took one step after another pushing aside the obvious thought that I would have to come back down again. I emerged into the air and glad to be on firm flooring. This roof gave the castle 360° views of the surrounding land, perfect for sending down a volley of arrows. It’s a long way down to the bottom of the earth mound from up there. The opening in the middle of the roof down to the floor was interesting but I could not photograph it because holding a phone over an edge gives me an anxious sensation. The views were spectacular. You could see around York wonderfully and I really did enjoy that aspect. I took plenty of pics and breathed some fresh air.

Now for the descent. I took a pass at a spiral staircase but could not bring myself to start. I took a second and then a third and walked away each time. By that time, I was silently using the F word in anger that this ‘malady’ should afflict me in later life when I had nary a skerrick of it as a youth or in middle age. However, when necessity hits you in the face, you act. I had to go down or I’d still be up there. I waited for the staircase to be free of ascenders or descenders and made my start. The spiral case in our Bologna apartment came in very useful at this point. I had figured a way of turning my foot on each step so the majority of the foot is on the step, not hanging over the side. And this is what I did. Very slowly. I took my time. Stopped once. Refused to stay stopped, and started again almost immediately. And made it down to the see-through walkways. No lingering. Down you go Stu. Just go. On the ground floor, I took a few breaths and then headed for the door and began my very slow descent of the stairs from the top of the mound down to terra firma.

I was glad I went to the castle. It really was very interesting and despite a just short-of-medium vertigo attack, I had a good time and stayed quite a while. Another good day in York.
What an amazing city.Baca lagi