Hi
Bolsover Castle is a great place to visit in Derbyshire if you're out for a moochy time with (or without) the nippers. It's to be found at the top of the small town of Bolsover, which incidentally has more Satanic worshippers than anywhere else in the UK! At least according to the latest national census it does. But then saying that; the people of Bolsover have a great sense of humour ~ so it might just be a deliberate joke to meddle with the census formalities, whilst others are performing dark rituals at midnight in nearby woodland, who knows? Yikes, Shaggy!
On a lighter note; here I am on stilts in the castle grounds... A skill I never knew I had until today, but no surprise, as it's not exactly elegant. My mum's filming skills are as crap as my newly-raised posture.
Myself, my mum and my daughter enjoyed our injection of Elizabethan England which is only half an hour from home, so quite handy.
"Bolsover is mentioned in the Domesday Book, named as Belesovre, where it is described as the property of William Peverel (or "Peveril"). The description refers to the villans, the ploughs, 8 acres (32,000 m2) of meadow and woodland pasture, which is given as two leagues by a league. Bolsover became the seat of the Peverel family, and in the 12th century a keep was built. The present castle was erected in 1613". Wikipedia.
Aerial view I 'borrowed' from the CBBC website and one of the courtyards I snapped earlier.
Beautiful summer we are having in the UK. Although the reservoirs are looking low and the gardens thirsty, but there has been no hose-pipe ban in Sheffield yet, so not at critical levels of drought due to the odd spot of rain ~ which wouldn't be very English otherwise! God forbid that the Heavens didn't open in mid-summer to water our prized tea roses and keep the allotment patches productive. The gardeners have managed to keep the lawns green here though, which makes for an aesthetic view.
We had some fun trying some old games such as chasing hoops with sticks across the lawn, seesaw-ing beanbags up in to the air and catching them, spinning plates and diabolo amongst other stuff, at which I was mostly diabolical. Stilts I faired well with, but no brownie points for looking like a geriatric on them. Quite good at spinning plates being a mum of three, but not literally, which is shame, as the hosts (in period costume) made it look far too blimmin' easy.
My daughter did better than me and my mum, quelle surprise.
Enjoyed more exploring around the grounds before a show took place on the lawn, based on the legend of Robin Hood, who, as folklore has it; stole from the rich to give to the poor. Many of the children got to be the various stage characters and much booing and cheering followed, and a few toddlers wondering aimlessly in summer nursery hi-viz vests ~ it wouldn't be the same without them.
Here is my daughter as Maid Marian, I had to chuckle, girl done good and all the other mini actors were brilliant and confident!
And a pic of one of the fabulous story-tellers, Rosie Bottom and the little Robin Hood on the right looking ready for battle!
But it's not all light-hearted stuff, when you read the history of the place.
Civil war and military deployment to stop the lead miners' revolt is just a snippet of the tensions that endured in Elizabethan and Jacobean times. In fact, if you recall our trip to Hardwick Hall, 'Bess of Hardwick' was William's grandmother ~ so the ruthless bloodthirsty dynasties all did ok for estates and power, surprise, surprise.
Bloodlines indeed - trails of the damn stuff to secure their stronghold throughout the counties of England. Greedy gilted gits. Here is Bess of Hardwick who married in to money - four times no less (buried all four husbands hmm), and her grandson William Cavendish, who was quite the playboy, poet courtier and later became the first Duke of Newcastle.
Here are the strong external walls to keep the hoi polloi at bay. However, the occupants enjoyed incredible panoramas over Bolsover and further in to Chesterfield, or ChezVegas as it's called now by locals.
Views from the parapet bridge, over the vast gardens;
Cheeky fountain features, [not sure what my daughter makes of them] ~ all a bit unnecessary but typical satire of the era.
Very photogenic interiors, with biblical scenes painted on the walls and ceilings. Some rather salacious, which you would expect-no-less from William, the casanova of his day. 'Champagne Charlie' Cavendish loved to impress his peers and his parties were the talk of the town as royalty would attend and aristocracy would stay over... Satanic origins of Bolsover? I jest, sorta.
Another moody room on the first floor of the little castle.
William liked lots of woman-on-woman mural scenes, the lech.
Stunning art though!
I even found a mason's mark on the stairway stone. :)
More interesting still [drumroll]...... I found witches marks.
Traditionally when a new castle was built, and indeed many properties in the 16th and 17th centuries, witches marks would be scratched in to the walls to ward the evil spirits away. Customarily, they would be placed in a position near where drafts would be likely to come through the walls, doors, floors or windows, for this is where they believed the vulnerable locations were to the unwanted energies - and gargoyles and witches marks were placed carefully in these locations to see them all off!
Here is a witches mark. It is a flower of life - you have to LOOK HARD to see it, but it is there.
This witches mark is concentric circles. AND, there are others too! Some in William's toilet en-suite to his bedroom upstairs, however these are both in one of the main rooms on the first floor of the little castle.
No surprise that even the garden was one for pleasure, with reference to the Goddess Venus and scenes of cherubs and heavily-dressed toffs filling it with gay splendour and loved-up antics.
Even features a lactating woman top right, which is bonkers if you ask me, but then you didn't.
A stunning venue for a romp any time of year if you can. Highly recommend. Not that busy too, which makes it even more enjoyable, especially when queuing for lunch which took no time at all and the jacket potatoes were fit for a royal. The café being near the entrance so we headed back from the little tower back across the main enclosure to the souvenir shop. Much walking was done!
Below is a simple image, but it is my favourite pic today. My mum and daughter in a serene empty room in the little castle. (I know those who know me, appreciate why this means a lot to me. It's not been an easy ride, but I feel a peace coming and the hard work I have put in, such as; over one year of therapy and much reading-up on the issue between myself and my mother, has meant that days like today can exist).
The white light shines in, just like in this photograph.
Not sure William Cavendish would approve, as that is far too puritanical a statement, but then he was one spoilt horse-loving, party-throwing, swashbuckling (swordsmen), royalty arse-licking, womanising Elizabethan motherfucker of a poet, polymath, soldier and diplomat. Amen.
Mwahs from me and Dukey boy. x