Come wind, come weather

The westerlies have returned.
The trade winds started to blow again last week, in mid June, and brought with them the torrential rain, our own mini-monsoon, that ruins so many sport events and outdoor gatherings planned with no thought of the weather cycle.
It happens with remarkable regularity, year in year out, but, cocooned as we are from the elements, we are hardly aware of it.
The buffeting winds and squally rain did not deter a group of archaeologists on a dig on one of the mounds that are scattered over the high moor above the village. The moor is where an outstretched limb of the Lammermuirs eventually descends to dip its toe in the North Sea at St Abbs and is as exposed a spot as one can find. Living there must be like living on the deck of a ship.
Folk did live there and still do.

The dig team assisted by "locals"

The dig was on a “settlement” that had just been de-scheduled from the list of ancient monuments probably to save the expense have to fence it off and it would appear to have been an exercise in checking to make absolutely certain there was nothing of significance on the site before leaving it to the depredations of the rabbits and the sheep.

Not much of interest, an external ditch, not really defensive, probably just to keep livestock out: a few spots where there was evidence of levelling out bumps in the bed-rock or of infilling depressions, to make a level floor; a water cistern cut into the rock. Not much, just folk making themselves a little more comfortable. An Iron Age farmhouse, probably occupied by people of the Brythonic tribe the Romans called the Votadini. A farmhouse then, just a hundred yards from the current farm house, a good place to live, high and dry above the marshy, wooded valley bottoms, a place with wonderful views of the coastline, a stream close at hand and the ability to exploit every resource from the fish in the sea to the game on the moor with the fertile ground to farm between the two, it would have been occupied for generations.

The modern farmhouse, on the right, is only a few yards away after 200o years


The only significant find was a huge post hole, one of four that would have supported the centre of the circular roof. It was extremely large and deep and the reason for all the effort to embed it so deeply in the bedrock floor was there for all to see or, rather, feel. It would have needed a firm setting to withstand the wind and keep the roof from blowing into the North Sea.

Those Iron Age people would have been only too aware of the return of the westerlies.

Bunker shots

What with all the furore surrounding the D-Day commemoration reminding us how Tom Hanks won the war and a repeat showing of Churchill’s Secret Army on Channel 4, I thought I’d go and check out the secret wartime bunker hidden about a couple of miles outside the village. I heard about it from a pair of local worthies who stravage about the countryside even more than I do. They discovered it some years back dug out the entrance, got in and photographed the interior but kept it very quiet. I was given a rough idea where to look, so off I went.

The Main Entrance

Apparently in 1940 or so when a Nazi invasion was on the cards, a group of volunteers from the Home Guard were picked for training in sabotage, demolition, and survival. In the event of a German landing they were to leave their families, disappear and go underground, literally
Bunkers or “operational bases” were hidden in woods. I suppose, our village being close to the East Coast main line and the A1 with all it bridges, it would have been an obvious spot. Equipped with guns, explosives and supplies, these men would have formed the basis for a resistance movement ….or a suicide squad.
Needless to say they were never called upon and, in latter part of the war, were disbanded. Having been sworn to secrecy and signed the Official Secrets Act, they never divulged the details of the scheme and most of them, if not all, are long gone.
In these days of off- the-record briefings, smear campaigns, leaked documents, lost c.d.’s, and stolen lap-tops, their honest, loyal, honourable integrity seems touching.
They were told not to say anything so they didn’t
Would they have been so quick to volunteer if they had known what a collection of freeloaders, shysters and opportunists, now represent the democracy they were so keen to protect?

The Escape Hatch

The bunker is still intact, fifteen feet below ground, nearly seventy years after its construction from corrugated iron and brick. All there, entrance, escape hatch, blast wall, a tribute to the workmanship and quality of materials used even in wartime. How many of today’s housing estates will be standing above ground in seventy years?

The Interior (courtesy of the original finders)

Altogether, a fun day out. There is an Adopt- a-Monument scheme for preserving old buildings. I wonder if we could preserve it as a historic monument. We could alert the government to its survival. After all, they probably still own it. If not, someone could claim a second home allowance for it.. It is certainly an attractive spot and I’m sure there are those in the spotlight at the moment that might just welcome just such a tranquil hideaway.

The view from the bunker