Unexpected Alphabets No 2

There are three beautifully-lettered mileposts (there maybe more) that sit on what appear to be the extremities of the Stanford Hall estate in Leicestershire. The early eighteenth century orange brick house and stables are amongst the very best buildings in the county, perfectly placed at the centre of a green park. The village and church are over the border in Northamptonshire, and it is in this county near Clay Coton that the other two ironstone mileposts stand half hidden at the side of the lane at Stanford Mear. One, almost completely enveloped by the hedge, has a big ball finial on top, a feature that I assume once crowned all three. I just love them, as much for the lettercutting as anything. I can only assume that they were positioned as information posts for departing travellers, and can perhaps offer a rough timeframe to them by noting the inclusion of Rugby Station on the above post (which has destinations on three sides), situated on the north east corner of the estate below South Kilworth. The railway arrived in Rugby in 1839, but the hall would have been very well served by the Yelvertoft & Stanford Park station that appeared in the village in 1850. I admit the mileposts do look earlier, and 'Rugby Station 8' could have been added later, but, whatever the facts, seek them out soon before they disappear completely.

Watch Out!

This sign appears just before a bend in the village of Cottingham in Northamptonshire. From what I could see it's not a particularly dangerous bend (there are far worse ones round here without any warning), and I could only think that maybe something horrendous had happened here that still reveberates in the local community. The reason I show it is that it was such a refreshing change to see an actual word writ large on a road sign that wasn't flashing digitally or pretending I didn't know a word of English. The letter style and colour reminded me of something British Railways might have put up in a goods yard to stop you walking round the back of a Scammell parcels truck, and of course that irrisistible combination certainly stopped me in my tracks. It also brought to mind a lane in Upper Brailles in Warwickshire, called, in cast-iron: 'Caution Corner'. It was bemusingly next to a funeral director's, and when I put it in my record of such things- Pastoral Peculiars- Richard Mabey said in his preface: " ...a litany of place names captures the bizarre, heartening chaos of it all. Caution Corner! What happened there?". Perhaps this sign was erected by local residents (there's something non-Ministry of Transport about it) but it's a well-executed one, and so much better than a speed bump or a tawdry flourescent poster metaphorically waving a parish clerk's finger at you. And I love the ivy climbing up the pole.

Cardington Arrest

These simply gigantic buildings have been arresting the attention ever since they were first built at Cardington in Bedfordshire, in the early twentieth century. They are airship hangars, the first one built here in 1917, the second brought here from Pulham St. Mary, Norfolk, in 1926. My father first pointed them out to me from a train as it left Bedford station, later he showed me little sepia Kodak snapshots he took here of the prodigious R101 just prior to its tragic demise in a muddy French field near Beauvais in 1930. After all that I obviously couldn't resist including them in my book Pastoral Peculiars. They are 812 feet long and 275 feet wide, Nelson's Column would fit inside- and upright. The doors are opened on their own little railway track.