York: The Minster and The Treasurer's House

Despite the dubious weather forecast this morning, the sun continues to put in brief appearances throughout the morning. In fact by the time I’m ready to head off into York, I’m beginning to wonder whether I need a fleece and coat at all. In the end I decide it is warm enough, but I do take a small “Jack[et] in a Pack” just in case.

Our cottage is just a five minute walk from one of York’s main Park and Ride bus stops. These provide you with free parking and a return into the city centre for £2. Now this is really good value, but after reading all the signs I’ve decided to buy a Smart Ticket instead. This costs £7 but is valid for seven days. During this time you can use it as much as you want and travel to any of the Park and Ride car parks. I reckon I may be able to take advantage of this, particularly as I want to visit a massive retail outlet next to one of the other sites. Even if I don’t break even I’ll still have a lovely plastic card with a photo of the Minster on the front!

After buying my ticket I jump on the bus and wave it at the machine that checks it’s valid. It isn’t because it hasn’t been activated before – but soon I’ve taken my seat and I’m whizzing towards the town centre. I’m on the Askham Bar bus (or White Line) which passed the racecourse (horse racing that is). It’s quite a surprise as there seems to be a public park alongside the course. Now I live near, and work in Newbury, another major racecourse with a very different philosophy. I imagine the owners would faint dead away at the thought of non-paying punters being able to see the races! Personally I prefer York’s approach and sincerely hope that people pop down with a picnic and enjoy the spectacle.

I’m deposited outside York railway station and quickly spot the impressive city walls. However first I have to work out how to cross the busy road outside the station, whilst running the gauntlet of a very aggressive Big Issue seller. I don’t know if they have a code of conduct, but I’m pretty sure this guy’s breaking a whole list of rules – I wouldn’t mind but I did politely decline. Still perhaps he finds bullying and intimidation a more effective sales technique.

I’m still trying to workout how to reach the wall when it disappears to make way for the River Ouse. However I do get a good view of my main target, York Minster, in the background. I’m half navigating and half wandering through some of the interesting shopping streets. One such street is Stonegate, where I find a teddy bear shop with a very racy topless ships figurehead attached. As I pick my way down this ancient street, the promised rain finally materialises and I decide not to linger anymore and head straight to the Minster.

Inside I discover Church of England PLC. It’s very hard for me to criticise the Church for charging admission to the building, after all I’m not here as a worshiper so why shouldn’t I pay something for the upkeep of the building? It’s just I always have an urge to expel the money lenders – or in this case the cash registers, credit card machines, souvenir brochures and gift shop! I think it’s the commercialism that really gets me. You can pay to visit the Minster, climb the tower, creep in the crypt or do all three for a staggering £9 – “and would you like to make a Gift Aid donation?” Luckily for them my dislike of the tax man is greater and I give the assistant my postcode, which she types into her till and brings up my full address. I pass on the brochure for another £5. Still if I do have any money left in my purse I could always put it in the handy donation boxes! You know I just don’t think they are trying hard enough to separate me from my money; perhaps they could install cash machines like St Isaac’s Cathedral in St Petersburg. Of course that’s now a state owned, secular building…

Anyway, that’s quite enough moaning. I didn’t stomp out in a fit of peak or pretend to be religious (apparently real worshipers are still allowed in free of charge), I thought about the good my money would be doing here, keeping this wonderful building standing and how much I admire the current Archbishop of York. He recently came in for a lot of criticism for publishing a newspaper advert urging the people of York to make use of their votes in a local election. He also reminded them to beware of wolves in sheep’s clothing. All perfectly innocent and laudable, but apparently the BNP[1] candidate took it rather personally.

The building is really worth a visit and I spent a very enjoyable couple of hours wandering around admiring the stained glass and wonderful architecture. I was particularly interested in the Rose Window and roof of the South Transept. In 1984 this part of the building was struck by lightning that in turn started a massive blaze. I would have been 13 at the time and can vividly remember the television pictures. I also remember watching the conservators’ painstakingly repair the Rose Window on Blue Peter (a long running children’s television programme in the UK). They also held a competition to design six of the decorative wooden bosses that connect the beams supporting the roof. Naturally I tried hard to spot these but couldn’t really pick out their details. Luckily a postcard in the gift shop (yes I did end up in there as well) showed three of the winning designs – all capturing topical events at the time. A hand lifting up Henry VIII’s famous warship, The Mary Rose, from the seabed; the red and white Tudor rose rising from the flames and a starving Ethiopian child cupped in a pair of hands.

In the centre of the Minster is a screen decorated with sculpted figures of the first kings of England, starting with William the Conquer. It brings back parts of an old rhyme we were taught at school to help us remember them:

“Willy, Willy, Harry Steve

Harry, Dick, John Harry three

Neds’ one, two, three and Harry four

Edward four, Richard two,

John, Henry five and six then who?”

Sadly I really only recall the first two lines accurately, but manage to remember the rest thanks to the names painted under each of the statues. There are some really interesting sculptures around the building, many on tombs. There are a whole series of painted figures kneeling in prayer. It seems really strange to see these figures glowing with colour, but it serves as a useful reminder that Cathedrals were heavily decorated in the past. It’s only now that we seem to prefer the purity of unadulterated stone.

Quite a number of former Archbishops are also recorded in stone memorials. Some of these are fairly standard representations of the men, but others are obviously from an earlier era. Two in particular catch my eye. The bishops are portrayed in the most extraordinarily camp manner. They look like rejects from a Monty Python sketch. My favourite looks like an artist’s model draped over a couch, with his vestments skimming over his body like delicate silk. Oh how styles have changed, or perhaps his colleagues just didn’t like him!

I conclude my visit down in the depths of the undercroft and crypt. Here I’m surprised to find remains of the earlier Norman and Medieval Minsters as well as a Roman Fortress. As I follow my audio guide, I puzzle over the very strange walls. They’ve gone for stark grey concrete with huge bolts sticking out of it. The reason for this only becomes clear later on when I reach a model of the huge central tower. In the 1960s it was discovered that this was in imminent danger of collapse and drastic action had to be taken. This resulted in archaeological excavations, which I have just been admiring. It also meant that huge concrete platforms were created underneath the four main supporting pillars. These are the strange walls I’ve been so puzzled about. I’m quite glad I didn’t know all this whilst I was picking my way through the strengthened foundations.

Just before leaving I stop to admire two religious paintings, unremarkable except that they both feature the same reinforced concrete supports, complete with bolts. What a wonderful idea and a great record of such an important part of the building’s recent history.

I’ve been inside the Minster for quite a while now and don’t really know what the weather’s doing. I peer out the main door into the damp gloom beyond – let’s face it I won’t need sun cream today. I put my mac on, which doesn’t really stop me feeling cold and damp, and trudge round the corner past a statue of the Roman Emperor, Constantine. One useful piece of trivia I’ve just picked up is that Constantine was in York when his father died and he was crowned Emperor, probably in the building that once stood here. He introduced religious tolerance and was also the first Christian Emperor, so it’s fitting that he should be remembered here. On the other side of the road stands a single Roman column. Perhaps when the weather is a little better I’ll come back and take some photographs!

Behind the Minster I find a remarkable building called the Treasurer’s House. It’s a National Trust property and was the first to be donated along with all its contents in the 1930s. I decide to make use of my newly acquired membership and head inside flourishing my temporary membership form. The girl at the desk studies it and giving me a slightly puzzled look asks me why I’ve just presented her with a receipt for some Virgin Vie jewellery. “Oh B****r”! I was in a hurry packing and couldn’t find the National Trust form, then I’d spotted it at the last minute and stuffed it into my handbag – only I obviously haven’t. I’m really gutted, particularly as I’ve only just joined with this holiday in mind. “And I was going to go to Fountain’s Abbey too”!

My shock and disappointment are obviously quite genuine and she kindly allows me in – not something they normally do. Apparently all is not quite lost as I can reclaim any money spent on entrance fees when I forget my card. Unfortunately they only give you vouchers back, but it’s better than nothing and means I could at least go to Fountain’s Abbey without loosing out.

However cheesed off I might be, the building restores my spirits. It’s wonderful. The last owner was a wealthy industrialist called Frank Green. He bought it in 1897 as three separate and decaying properties. He then set about remodelling it and “restoring” it to how he felt it should be. His grand plan was to decorate and furnish each room in a different style, reflecting 4 centuries of occupation. It was a bold plan and often took more than one attempt to get things just right. He also had very strict ideas as to how the building should be kept, threatening to come back and haunt The Trust if they changed anything!

Once I had finished my tour I took a trip down to the basement and the obligatory National Trust tearoom. As always the food was fantastic, although I did find the mixed fruit and vegetable salad a little odd for my Southern taste buds. To finish off I had a gorgeous homemade Yorkshire lemon tart (think lemon meringue pie without the meringue). Happy and well fed I went back out into the rain to, briefly, admire the garden. What a shame about the weather, still there’s still plenty of time.

By now time was creeping on and I was due to cook tonight. So I slowly wandered back through town, roughly aiming myself at the old castle. After a few detours I arrived and soon found the bus stop for the Park and Ride. Amazingly the bus wasn’t far behind me, so on I jumped. Luckily there will be plenty of time to see the rest of the city another day.

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[1] British National Party