Lord Hill's Column - Worth Spending A Few Bob On

It is often said that the vast majority of those people lucky enough to live at the seaside take their environment for granted. They hardly ever go onto the beach, hardly ever go for a paddle, and wouldn't dream of building a sandcastle.

More fool them, I say.

But similarly, it can surely be said that the vast majority of those people lucky enough to live in a fine historic town (like Shrewsbury) hardly ever admire the superb buildings, hardly ever explore the history on their doorstep, and probably have little or no knowledge of the town's most famous characters.

For instance, although countless townsfolk walk or drive past Lord Hill's column every day, how many actually know very much about the column, and how many know anything about the man it commemorates?

I know that I myself, as a young student at Shrewsbury College back in the seventies, would pass Lord Hill twice a day with scarcely a thought as to who he was. Being a fashion guru (as I still am today, of course), I was far more interested in flared trousers (and, frankly, rather attractive tank-tops) than I was in obscure blokes stood on top of doric columns.

But in later years, I discovered why this particular bloke was considered to be important. And now, here in 2012, he's back in the news again!

Only last week, conservation experts were busy examining the statue at the top of the column to assess whether it was in need of major repairs. Staff from Taylor Pearce Restoration Services made use of a cherry picker to get a really good look at the splendid fellow who stands proudly atop the structure, surveying Abbey Foregate and the town beyond.

Not for the first time in recent years, the condition of the 17ft statue was under scrutiny.

For much of the year the area around the base of the column has been fenced off after a small piece of masonry plummeted to earth in April. You wouldn't have wanted that landing on your head, now would you?

Anyway, a report will now be prepared for Shropshire Council, detailing whether repairs to the statue are required.

There was a fair old bit of controversy back in the 1990s when a considerable sum of money was spent restoring the statue which (understandably enough) had deteriorated after decades of wind and rain and frost.

And going back a bit further, one of Lord Hill's arms fell off in 1945 and money had to be spent to get him fixed up. Again, a debate raged in the pages of the Shrewsbury Chronicle about whether or not this was to be money well spent when there were so many other pressing priorities.

A poem appeared in the newspaper, ending with these lines:

Has proud Salopia lost her pride,

Has she no honour more,

To leave me to disintegrate,

And broke for ever more.

I cannot think so ill of you,

Salopians, but would fain,

Believe you'll find a sculptor,

To make me whole again.

Indeed - now as then - it is unthinkable (no matter what other pressing priorities there are), that we proud Salopians would allow the good lord to fall to pieces.

Lord Hill's Column not only dominates Abbey Foregate but can also be seen from many other parts of Shrewsbury. Built in 1816 it is undoubtedly one of the town's great landmarks. As such it is up there on the list of structures that make Shrewsbury special, up there alongside the Bear Steps, the Old Market Hall, St Chad's, Wyle Cop, the castle, the library, the Abbey Church, the English Bridge and the Welsh Bridge, St Mary's, St Julian's, St Alkmund's, our gorgeous railway station, Ireland's Mansion and Rowley's House.

In short, it is one of our jewels in the crown.

But who was Lord Hill?

Well, Lord Rowland Hill was an important military officer who fought alongside the Duke of Wellington in the Peninsular Wars and at the Battle of Waterloo when his horse was shot from under him.

Remembered now as Shrewsbury's most distinguished soldier, he succeeded Wellington as Commander-in-chief of the army in 1828. His military achievements, combined with his concern for the men under his command, generated respect and affection from the rank-and-file troops. He actually became known as 'Daddy Hill' by the soldiers who acknowledged his kindness.

He died unmarried in December 1842 and is buried at Hadnall. 

The fine column, with its four lions around the base, was erected in his memory, and it is said to be (at 133ft, six inches high) the tallest Greek doric column in the world.

Surely it, and the statue on top, is worth spending a few bob on?

Abbey Foregate and A Little White Lie

In architecture, as in all things, a little white lie is often better than the truth.

I say this as someone who, over these past few weeks in this column, has often touched upon the thorny subject of what makes a building 'historic' or of 'historic value' - and also as someone who likes to ask the question: Do unwanted ugly buildings deserve to be preserved just as much as unwanted beautiful buildings?

In other words, we all love Rowley's House, Bear Steps and St Chad's. But does anyone care very much when the Midland Red bus garage in Ditherington is smashed to the ground? Would anyone worry if there were plans to demolish the old Woolworth's building in Castle Street (yes, the one that replaced the lovely Raven Hotel)? Are tears likely to be shed if there are ever plans to sweep away the 1960s Shirehall next to Lord Hill's Column? And what about the domineering 1960s Market Hall clocktower? Would anyone care two hoots it that went?

What has prompted me to raise such questions again is the unveiling last week of a £4 million redevelopment plan for a stretch of Abbey Foregate.

Now, there are of course wonderful great stretches of Abbey Foregate which are unspoilt, rather lovely, and (by anyone's definition) historic. So which bit are we talking about here? We're talking about the Heaths Houses site, that bland stretch of sheltered housing across the road from The Cedars and which, if you are walking away from town, comes just before The Brick pub.

Severnside Housing announced back in June 2011 that it was closing the sheltered housing after failing to fill empty bedsits.

So far, 40 elderly residents have been moved to alternative accommodation, with another 16 due to be rehomed when suitable properties become available.

The plans for the redevelopment of the site have just gone on display. And having given them just a cursory glance, I have to say that what they have in mind looks very nice indeed. The proposal is for 41 houses and flats which could be completed by 2015.

There will be nine townhouses, seven of which will be for market sale, and 31 two-bedroom apartments, and a single one-bedroom apartment - all kind of mock-Georgian in appearance.

In short, the existing buildings, constructed in two phases in 1967 and 1988 and which never once pretended to be anything other than buildings of that time, will be swept away and replaced with much prettier buildings of 2015 but pretending to be from 1815.

And so a 1967 truth will be replaced by a 2015 lie. And hence my contention that a little white architectural lie can be better than the unattractive (and out-of-keeping with the rest of the road) truth.

Now, it's not that I always prefer a lie to the truth. Stay with me on this.

Whilst considering the pluses and minuses of various drinking hostelries he had known, the American writer Garrison Keillor once talked about the enchanting atmosphere of a genuinely old bar, a place which, in its time, had seen generations of drinkers come and go; a place in which the bar-stools are well worn from having had so many people sit upon them over the years. And his argument was that there is a world of difference between these old bars and the new bar which has a decor carefully designed to make it look as if it is old. 

He said (and I have never forgotten this) that it is like the difference between the truth and a lie.

On this I am as one with Garrison Keillor.

The new pubs can never be a match for the old pubs. The Beaten Track does not stack up against the Nag's Head or The Loggerheads or The Golden Cross or the Yorkshire House. Not because The Beaten Track is not a nice place - because actually it is. But because The Beaten Track is new. It might like to pretend that it's old with its fireplace and its soft lighting, but it's new. Simple as that. 

But now here is where I perhaps contradict myself (if I haven't done so already!) and possibly even show myself up to be a hypocrite.

My regular readers will know that I have been passionate about saving Besford House in Belle Vue, a Victorian mansion that had been under threat of demolition and replacement with new housing. So how can I now be supporting the demolition of Heaths Houses in Abbey Foregate and their replacement with new housing?

To me, this question is easily answered. Besford House is both (a) historic and (b) beautiful, and (c) would have been replaced by inferior buildings. On the other hand, Heaths Houses are (a) of no historic value and (b) ugly, and (c) will be replaced by superior housing.

Or am I indeed being a hypocrite? Answers on postcard please. (Or in a letter or an email).

Abbey Foregate Railway Station

Stick around long enough and little miracles happen – like new life slowly being breathed into the long-derelict Abbey Foregate railway station.

For decades, this was one of those “blink-and-you’ll-miss-it” buildings, a structure so apparently insignificant that few local people even knew it was there.

I well remember meeting up with school pals in this neck of the woods – long before the regeneration that came with the new link road in the early 1980s, long before the new Greenhous Vauxhall showrooms, long before the Beaten Track pub and the Safeway supermarket which eventually became Asda, long before Cineworld.

When I was 11 or 12, I probably knew nothing of the history of this area. I certainly don’t recall being aware of the Shropshire and Montgomeryshire Railway. All that would come much later.

No, we schoolboys would just congregate there sometimes – because it was a kind of cool and mysterious place.

There were broken down buildings just crying out to be explored. Now, this might well have involved trespassing, but there were no signs around to suggest this, and back then there was a sense in which the whole world was free and open.

We were never out to make mischief, never out to be a nuisance to anyone, and we most certainly did not go in for smashing old windows or any kind of vandalism. It was just fun to hang around with mates in this semi-wasteland full of ghosts.

Back then there were still railway lines in this area.

In amongst the ballast supporting the lines you would occasionally stumble upon an ancient cigarette packet covered in oil or a torn page from some old railway document – an artefact from another era.

Why were there still railway lines there in the 1970s when the Shropshire and Montgomeryshire Railway had vanished many years before?

Well, because there was an oil depot there in Abbey Foregate and the sidings were still being used by British Railways for transporting oil tankers (and continued to be used right up until 1988, finally being taken up in 1990).

All this came back to me on Sunday when the old Abbey Foregate station (undergoing renovation) was opened to the public, and I popped along to see how things were developing. There is still a lot to be done here as the idea is that it should become a permanent little museum and visitor centre, but much has already been achieved – thanks to the Shrewsbury Railway Heritage Trust.

The trust was formed in 2003 with the intention of recording, documenting, preserving and telling the story of the railways in Shrewsbury and its region for the benefit of future generations.

A noble ambition indeed.

The trust is a registered charity and a company limited by guarantee, managed by a board of eight directors. It has a membership of more than 100.

Its declared aim is to record the social and economic impact of the railways upon Shrewsbury and the wider region. Shrewsbury was of course one of the most important connectional hubs on the early UK rail network with its extensive marshalling yards in Coton Hill, Coleham and Abbey Foregate, the latter known locally as ‘the back of the sheds’.

As a boy I was always very aware of ‘the back of the sheds’ with my grand-dad having been a Great Western Railway man.

It was a fascinating area.

And the handful of streets which still bear the name – ‘the back of the sheds’ – remains a fascinating area.

On Sunday, there was not a tremendous amount to see at the old station – a few pictures of how things used to be, a couple of information displays, a book stall. But it was enough to give you a little taste of the place – and also a little insight into what it can become.

Stop-start, stop-start funding has meant that the project is behind schedule, but hopes are high that the place will be fully open to the public in the not-too-distant future.

For those unfamiliar with the history, the old station here was once part of the Potteries, Shrewsbury and North Wales Railway, known more commonly as “The Potts” – established by Richard Samuel France, a wealthy Shropshire entrepreneur. The 18-mile main line from Shrewsbury to Llanymynech opened on August 13, 1866 with a further extension serving the Nantmawr quarries. Owing to financial difficulties the company was wound up in 1881.

The Potts somehow carried on in a state of suspension until Colonel Holman Fred Stephens took charge in 1908 and renamed the enterprise the Shropshire and Montgomeryshire Railway.

This ran from 1911 to 1933. In 1941 the War Department requisitioned the line, running trains to and from its ammunition storage depot at Nesscliffe.

Some modest service then ran after the war but the railway was handed over to BR in 1960 for dismantling.

For more information on the Shrewsbury Railway Heritage Trust contact Mansel Williams on 01743 235103 or Phil Hughes on 01743 359853.