Postcard from Ilfracombe
I’m just back from a lovely four days in
North Devon, with the shops just beginning to re-open for the impending spring
season, and the weather having a touch of warmth in it despite a couple of very
wet days.
I was made to feel most welcome there. It really is a charming town. Someone described it as a village in town
clothing which feels right. I have a
soft spot for it certainly and with my new role as Artistic Director of the
Victorian Celebration, it meant I could start delving into the roots of what is
going on there, gathering support and inspiring the community to engage with
the event again. I have to say they have
really gone for it to a great extent although I did encounter a few
doubters. The younger element of the
town have warmed and embrace the new ideas for the event being
circulated. Steam Punk day will be one
worth attending.
I have managed to develop quite an exciting
workshop programme so people can have a go at some of the craft activities that
the Victorian Ladies (and maybe the gentlemen too for all I know)
practiced. I have also managed to secure
the services of the well known magazine episodic fiction writer Mr Charles
Dickens who is going to present some readings from his works and talk a little
about his life. I hear that Queen Victoria (who is also attending) has a secret
penchant for his work, apparently much to the disapproval of the royal
entourage. I have been reliably informed
by a source close to the Palace that she would like to offer him a
knighthood. I have also heard that he is
not in favour of the idea and might refuse it if offered. Anyway the drama is to be played out against
the backdrop of Ilfracombe Victorian Celebration from June 11th – 19th. Please try to come down. Apart from the scandals in the Royal
household, there is plenty for all tastes and promises to be a very different
event from previous years. If you can
only make one weekend, come for the second one (17th – 19th)
and enjoy the Weekend Gala. It will be
the place to be this summer.
I was lying in the lorry one night and
recapping the day in my mind when I was interrupted by the sound of church
bells being rung. Is it me or is that
becoming a rare sound? I seem to
remember church bells always filling the air in my childhood. Mind you I was a chorister and the bells were
always de rigueur at the many Saturday weddings I sang.
So I followed the sound up the hill and
came across the beautiful Holy Trinity church commanding the town and
surrounded by the largest and most impressive graveyard I have seen in a
while. After following the old path
around the church I came upon the door with a light above, ajar and with steep
steps ascending the tower. At the top
was a trap door above my head and as the previous peal had just ended, I rapped
loudly. After a pause the ancient oak trapdoor
creaked open to reveal six or seven Dickensian characters holding ropes and all staring at
me. I don’t know who was more surprised
as I was quite unexpected and effectied what must have been a dramatic entrance with my burgundy
fedora. I asked for the Captain, although I don’t know how I remembered that’s
what the chief campanologist is called.
One of them stepped forward and there ensued a conversation which I had had
with many people in the days in Ilfracombe, namely that I was trying to revive
the event’s fortunes and engage individuals and groups in the process.
The team gladly agreed to ring a special
peal (‘Sixties in thirds’) on the Wednesday night of the Celebration and I said
I would put it in the main programme. Result.
As I descended (backwards) down the steep
stair it felt I had interrupted something from a previous age. I learned later that the tower is the oldest
part of the church, dating back to the 1500s. It certainly felt that way, with
the ghosts of history’s many bell ringers watching from its walls.
All the best from a road near you,
Mr Alexander