LETTER FROM ENGLAND
PART 1: DEAR AND HISTORIC
BY DANIEL W. DRAKE ASSOCIATE PUBLISHER
Megavissey, Cornwall, April 23, 2006 - We who live on Nantucket think of it as being, in the English parlance, a "dear" place to live. The adjective used closer to home is "expensive;" Nantucket is expensive. It is often said that we pay high prices for the privilege of living in this wonderful place. My mother used to say that it cost more to ship a ton of coal from Boston to Nantucket than it did to ship the proverbial coal to Boston from Newcastle, England.

I don't want to belabor the point because there are much more fun things to talk about. However, it is worth noting that the British pound hit a twenty six year high against the US dollar the day before we left for London last week. The exchange rate being offered at Logan was about 45 pence for one US dollar. I waited and made a withdrawal from a cash machine at Heathrow Airport, and I will be blissfully ignorant of the exchange rate until I get my bank statement.

The taxi driver told us that London had now wrested from Tokyo the title of "Most Expensive City." The taxi fare - with a 10 percent tip, the standard in London - from Heathrow to the hotel in London- roughly 14 miles, but an hour in duration - was about $132.00. A one-way ride on the London Underground was $4.40. The International Herald Tribune was $2.20 (Mrs. Stanton, please take note. You have plenty of room to raise the I&M's price even higher!) Purchased at a "canteen," a simple lunch of two packaged sandwiches, two sodas and a bag of "crisps" was almost $40.00 …and so on. In part, the culprit is the national 17.5 percent Value-Added Tax ("VAT") which is added to the cost of almost all goods and services and incorporated in the quoted price of a hotel room or a meal or a sweater. One store actually quoted the price of its goods pre-VAT and, so universal is the practice of including the VAT in the posted cost, that in this particular establishment, one had the distinct feeling of being cheated.

The last chapel we visited, Milton Abbas, began as an abbey in the 10th century. Its likeness appears on the seal of the town of Milton, Mass.

However, the VAT accounts for only a portion of the difference. Since this is not intended to be a lesson in economics, suffice it to say that ordinary Londoners pay these prices, just as ordinary Nantucketers pay the prices we think are so high. Also, the British generally don't have the low cost option of Wal-Mart or Home Depot. Maybe we aren't so badly off on our tight little island.

Enough of that; we must go on to the historic.

We also take some pride in how historic Nantucket is. 1682 was a long time ago; yet, much of what we take for granted as the fabric of historic Nantucket is much newer than that ... After all the Great Fire was in 1847, so most of the buildings in the "Core Historic District" aren't much more than 150 years old.

Setting the stage, we left London on Saturday, to visit friends who live in the middle of Thomas Hardy country, in the shire of Dorset, southwest of London. The Vale of Blackmore is the next valley over from the village where we stayed. The Tubervilles, from whom Hardy derived Tess' last name were a local family.

The newest part of the house in which we stayed dates to the mid-nineteenth century; the original section goes back to the 1400s. That is old! The church in the village was built in the early 1500s, but as we shall see, it is a Johnny-comelately amongst the local parishes.

A hill to the north dominates the village. Hambledon Hill arises from the plain and a walk directly up its face presents a challenge to any but the most fit. Our host walked us through fields and across styles as far as his old dog (a lurcher - look that up) could manage and pointed us towards a circular route along the sheep tracks and the causeways of the Neolithic ramparts. A twenty minute trek found us at the far end of the top of the hill, overlooking one of the two long "barrows" or tombs. (The first person we saw at the top was trying to get reception on both his Blackberry and his cell phone.)

According to the archaeologists, the long barrows were used in the period between 3700 and 3300 BC by the locals, as they transitioned from hunters and gatherers to more stable agricultural pursuits, for elaborate burial rituals which included the internment of the deceased, after the poor person's bones had been picked clean by carrion. Some prized possessions, such as axes (some of which have been identified as coming from distant parts of England and even Europe, were buried with the skeleton

The barrows gradually were surrounded by settlements and, towards the end of this period became fortifications rather than burial grounds. Unfortunately, as the story has it, the additional fortifications, made from as many as 10,000 oak staves the size of telephone poles, in-filled with chalk which is the local strata, were not successful in their intended purpose. The chalk was washed away by rain and the oak staves were torched by an industrious enemy.

Hambledon Hill recurs in local history at the time of the Iron Age, about 1000 BC; the Roman invasion about 50 years after the birth of Christ and then again at the time of William the Conqueror. Several of the villages neighboring where we stayed, bear the names of William's henchmen including one wonderfully called Okeford Fitzpaine.

A Sunday afternoon tour took us first to an overlook from which we could see the entire Vale of Blackmore, enshrouded in a high mist. It didn't take much to be able to imagine being back in Hardy's time.

Apparently amongst his other virtues, Hardy took an interest in restoring some of the small, local parish churches. Our tour of three such churches included one that he had helped restore. As we drove between the churches, down the narrow roads and in between the hedgerows of the English country side, we became more and more smitten with the area and its history. The first church we visited, nestled in the midst of a private estate, with its churchyard and gravestones, was begun in the 14th century. The next one opened its doors at the beginning of the 13th century (The list of Rectors on the wall is continuous from 1209.)

The last chapel we visited, Milton Abbas, began as an abbey in the 10th century. Its likeness appears on the seal of the town of Milton, Mass.

One wonders whether there was any habitation at all of Nantucket in 1209. And in 3300 BC? Not likely.

Now we have met up with other friends to walk the south Cornish coast for six days. The South West Coastal Path has been described as being like the 'Sconset Bluff walk. We'll see!

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The "Lighthouse Keeper" reflects the views of the author and does not necessarily represent the editorial position of The Nantucket Independent. Please send any comments to drake@nantucketindependent. com.