So, with apologies to Dr Johnson, my preferences these are often turning towards our cathedral cities. Like London, they have rich cultural heritage, great architecture, theatres and museums. Yet they are a lot less crowded. Eminently walkable, they are full of charm with a fair few independent shops and restaurants. Many can boast flourishing farmer’s markets packed with local providers and craftspeople. Most avoided both the bomb damage of WWII and the hyper-growth of the late 20th century. So while few are entirely free of ugly 20th century buildings, they tend to have avoided the characterless modernity that blights large swathes of the capital. (Portsmouth is a sad exception.) Overall, the pace is slower and the people friendlier. While I love the staggering diversity of the megalopolis that is London, I am also an immigrant who moved here because I loved all that was traditionally English. You’re more likely to find that today in the cathedral cities than in London, which probably has more in common with New York or Hong Kong than York or Wells.
The fact that all roads lead to London, however, means that many of these charming outposts are on rail lines that can get you to the capital efficiently enough for the occasional commute. Is it any wonder that people whose work gives them the flexibility are moving to these cities, or that real estate in Winchester … our local cathedral city … now features prices on par with London?
Worcester offers an excellent example of the charms of one of these cathedral cities. It lies on the River Severn, about an hour southwest of Birmingham. Some cities turn their backs on their rivers. Others build right up to them until they seem no more than a canal cutting through skyscrapers. In Worcester, green spaces along the riverfront have been zealously protected. The racecourse. The cricket club. A verdant riverwalk. Look westward over the river with Worcester at your back and the Malvern Hills rear up from gentle agricultural plains, offering spectacular views and some gorgeous sunsets. It is, in short, a tremendously attractive place to settle; something people had already figured out centuries before the Romans established their river crossing and street plans here.
If “things you know about Worcester” turns up on Pointless, there are three things you’ll immediately want to avoid.
First, national favourite composer Edward Elgar was born here and gets a nod in statues, monuments, street and building names across the city. So proud are they of the local boy that I’m surprised, frankly, they don’t have Land of Hope and Glory wafting out from speakers in the town centre. Next, Messers Lea and Perrins created their famous Worcestershire sauce here and, though now part of the global behemoth Kraft Heinz, it’s still manufactured in the local factory. Bloody Mary drinkers everywhere owe Worcester a debt of gratitude.
The fact that all roads lead to London, however, means that many of these charming outposts are on rail lines that can get you to the capital efficiently enough for the occasional commute. Is it any wonder that people whose work gives them the flexibility are moving to these cities, or that real estate in Winchester … our local cathedral city … now features prices on par with London?
Worcester offers an excellent example of the charms of one of these cathedral cities. It lies on the River Severn, about an hour southwest of Birmingham. Some cities turn their backs on their rivers. Others build right up to them until they seem no more than a canal cutting through skyscrapers. In Worcester, green spaces along the riverfront have been zealously protected. The racecourse. The cricket club. A verdant riverwalk. Look westward over the river with Worcester at your back and the Malvern Hills rear up from gentle agricultural plains, offering spectacular views and some gorgeous sunsets. It is, in short, a tremendously attractive place to settle; something people had already figured out centuries before the Romans established their river crossing and street plans here.
If “things you know about Worcester” turns up on Pointless, there are three things you’ll immediately want to avoid.
First, national favourite composer Edward Elgar was born here and gets a nod in statues, monuments, street and building names across the city. So proud are they of the local boy that I’m surprised, frankly, they don’t have Land of Hope and Glory wafting out from speakers in the town centre. Next, Messers Lea and Perrins created their famous Worcestershire sauce here and, though now part of the global behemoth Kraft Heinz, it’s still manufactured in the local factory. Bloody Mary drinkers everywhere owe Worcester a debt of gratitude.
And then there’s the Civil War. The Battle of Worcester in 1651 was the Royalists’ last stand before nine years of a relatively unchallenged, grim, Godly republic. It’s the one after which the young King Charles II hid in an apple tree and escaped disguised as a lady’s servant. Depictions of those events have been glorified on stage and screen, page and canvas, ever since. There’s even a holiday, Oak Apple Day, celebrated on 29 May.
Delightful as these things are, you’re probably not going to move to Worcester for any of them. You’ll be lured, as our friends were, by a ring of gracious suburbs within walking distance of the town centre, its train stations with easy access to London and Birmingham, and charming properties for a fraction of the cost per square foot of the equivalent in London.
ARCHITECTURALLY BLESSED
The Industrial Revolution was very kind to Worcester, flooding cash into town but on a more manageable, less brutal scale than nearby Birmingham. There’s a wealth of very pretty Regency and early Victorian architecture here, some of it on beautiful green squares. I’m surprised the film industry hasn’t discovered it as a shoot location for historical dramas. As you come into the town centre you’ll find a delightful mix of architecture, from small 19th century industrial buildings now put to modern uses (microbrewery, yoga studio…) to lavish Edwardian public buildings to some art deco gems. The Guildhall is a spectacular early Georgian building that proclaims the city’s Royalist creds with statues of Charles I and II on either side of the door. The sculptor was either very bad, or had never seen a portrait of either man, but that almost adds to the charm.
Most exciting, and most radically different from London, is a generous sprinkling of surviving Medieval architecture. It’s mostly half-timbered, and concentrated around Friar Street.
The historic centre offers a tempting range of traditional pubs. We spent some time in The Cardinal’s Hat, occupying an early Georgian building and still operating on that early model of a warren of small rooms. (Much like London’s Cheddar Cheese in Fleet Street.) Local brews, an impressive range of gins, friendly staff, gleaming woodwork, stacks of board games, no canned music, no fruit machines, dogs welcome. I want to go back.
Worcester didn’t escape the blight of ugly modern architecture completely. Like any English city there are sad concrete blocks that make you shake your head in grim disbelief at the modernist vandals who thought brutalist lines, concrete and lack of ornament could bring joy. But even here Worcester works hard to turn things to its advantage, fostering a civic murals scheme that gives some interest and beauty to the unlovely.
The 21st century has ushered in more architectural hope, with a combination of sensitive renovations and a development across from the cathedral that gives us a modern take on a town square with a range of restaurants and social spots. According to our hosts it’s heaving most weekends and is a big draw for the students at university here.
The cathedral is the star sight in town for lovers of history and architecture, though it would be easy to miss. It sits just below the crest of the hill the city centre occupies, on the southwest side. If you’re approaching from the west and crossing over the Severn it would dominate your initial views of Worcester. These days, however, almost everyone is coming from the east. Walking through town from this direction you won’t spot the cathedral until you’re practically on top of it. The lack of a spire adds to its low profile.
CLASSIC CATHEDRAL
Unusually for a British cathedral of this size and quality they don’t force the admissions fee on you. Donation points are all over the building and I found my visit well worth a contribution. Typically, it’s an amalgamation of styles: started in the late 7th century, bits of Romanesque architecture still on show, but mostly layers of various gothic periods with some sensitive renovation by the Victorians. (Notably directed by George Gilbert Scott, most famous for the Albert Memorial.) Thus, despite some horrific destruction by hammer-wielding reformers in the Reformation and the Civil War, there’s a lot of beauty here to appreciate.
Most notable is the tomb of King John, perennial winner of “worst king” competitions and one of the few English monarchs not to be buried amongst other rulers. Brother Richard the Lionheart and their formidable parents Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine sleep almost 600 miles away in Fontevraud, France. Given their toxic relationships, it’s probably not far enough.
The monument is far more beautiful than the man’s reputation: he lies full-length, regal and crowned, saints at each shoulder, the once-painted stone now a gleaming black, atop a grand but restrained plinth decorated with Plantagenet crests. He is, naturally, right in front of the high altar. It’s good to be king. All is not normal in the afterlife, however. The lion at his feet is biting the tip of his sword. I have never seen this before on a medieval tomb, and there’s no documented evidence to say why. But scholars’ best guess is that it’s the artists’ subtle commentary showing England (the lion) biting back over John’s brutal reign.
Though the most prestigious, John is just one of a beautiful collection of tombs in the cathedral. Prince Arthur, whose early death ushered in Henry VIII, lies in a mortuary chapel just to the right of the altar, still beautiful despite the way iconoclasts of old chiselled away saints’ faces. Other chapels bristle with the spires and flourishes of the high gothic. Several Medieval tombs still have their lifelike painting scheme, most notably the Beauchamps where the lady lying beside her knight in shining armour uses a black swan as a pillow.
There’s also a lovely enclosed cloister and an atmospheric Romanesque crypt. Walk around to the west side, where the main (now unused) entrance is, and you’ll be treated to a gorgeous view of the river with pleasant walks beside it.
The other sightseeing blockbuster in town is The Commandery, a collection of listed buildings now used as a museum covering the history of the city but concentrating primarily on the Civil War. Sadly it’s closed on Monday, which was my free day in town, so it will need to wait until a future visit. Of which I’m confident there will be plenty.
It’s always a wrench when close friends move away. The upside is that you get to go visit them. This blog would be without its many entries on Luxembourg and the area around Lake Annecy if it weren’t for the migration of some dear friends. And now others, just as close, will bring that awareness to the charming cathedral city of Worcester. I’m going to miss having them close at hand, but the compensations of their new home town are compelling.
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