(no subject)

Back to Paisley Abbey now.

It owes its origins to Walter Fitzalan, who during the reign of David I brought a group of Cluniac monks from their mother house in Much Wenlock, Shropshire, and settled them in nearby Renfrew, where a Royal castle was situated.  In 1177, the monks transferred to a site in Paisley, which was already associated with a local saint, Saint Mirin.

Here's the inevitable nave shot:-

 

Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to explore the chancel.  This visit being tied into a shopping trip, we had to rush back to beat the parking ticket...

Anyway, I must apologise to Edward I.  I was well aware that Paisley Abbey was burned during the Scots Wars of Independence, but evidently this event didn't take place until 1307, i.e. during the reign of Edward II.  Never mind: Edward I committed sufficient atrocities elsewhere throughout Scotland and Wales which more than make up for this omission on his part.  He evidently focussed his ire on Dunfermline and Scone instead.. 

Following this calamity, a period of massive rebuilding took place in the later 14th century.  The results speak for themselves:-

 

 

Of particular note is the route that runs around the clerestorey.  In the overwhelming majority of abbey and cathedral churches, this takesthe form of a passage that runs through each pillar.  In this case, the route skirts around the pillar, along the projecting corbelled platforms that stick out over the nave below.  The effect is very striking.

There'll be more from Paisley Abbey next week.  As for the information included in this post, it is all derived from The Monastery & Abbey of Paisley (2000, ed. John Malden), and in particular, from The Abbey and Monastery of Paisley by John Malden which is included in this volume.
 

(no subject)

Back to Paisley Abbey now.

It owes its origins to Walter Fitzalan, who during the reign of David I brought a group of Cluniac monks from their mother house in Much Wenlock, Shropshire, and settled them in nearby Renfrew, where a Royal castle was situated.  In 1177, the monks transferred to a site in Paisley, which was already associated with a local saint, Saint Mirin.

Here's the inevitable nave shot:-

 

Unfortunately, I didn't get a chance to explore the chancel.  This visit being tied into a shopping trip, we had to rush back to beat the parking ticket...

Anyway, I must apologise to Edward I.  I was well aware that Paisley Abbey was burned during the Scots Wars of Independence, but evidently this event didn't take place until 1307, i.e. during the reign of Edward II.  Never mind: Edward I committed sufficient atrocities elsewhere throughout Scotland and Wales which more than make up for this omission on his part.  He evidently focussed his ire on Dunfermline and Scone instead.. 

Following this calamity, a period of massive rebuilding took place in the later 14th century.  The results speak for themselves:-

 

 

Of particular note is the route that runs around the clerestorey.  In the overwhelming majority of abbey and cathedral churches, this takesthe form of a passage that runs through each pillar.  In this case, the route skirts around the pillar, along the projecting corbelled platforms that stick out over the nave below.  The effect is very striking.

There'll be more from Paisley Abbey next week.  As for the information included in this post, it is all derived from The Monastery & Abbey of Paisley (2000, ed. John Malden), and in particular, from The Abbey and Monastery of Paisley by John Malden which is included in this volume.
 

(no subject)

I've just returned for my first bike ride since...  November?  October?  Well, put it this way...  It's been so long that I actually can't remember.

I did just ten miles (which is just a pootle by our standards, a mere turning over of the legs...) and I'm now shattered.  I think on top of last night's adventure with Diva, it's been a bit of a struggle.  It's my cardiovascular system that's suffered most.  The pistons are working fine, but the engine and the fuel injection system needs a bit of work.  But it's a start.  The psychological effort involved in getting the bike out (thankfully, all moving parts were working properly) and getting out has been overcome.  AND THE SUN CAME OUT!!!  That, combined with my terribly tasty courgette and mint tarlet with salad, made for a splendid morning.  Which was promptly ruined when Inattentive Me ran over a large, disgusting dog turd that some thoughtful useless dog walker had left in the middle of the cycle track (though I suppose that's better than the assorted low-life who bag their dog-poo then drape the bag over a handy branch.  Perhaps they think it's art.  Or perhaps they believe that some Celestial Cleansing Brigade will descend from on high and remove it to a better place.)

The Tudors was entertaining last night.  Catherine Howard finally had her head chopped off.  And of course there was the obligatory hanging, drawing and quartering.  Which had to be good, because it had to compete with the current leader in that field, the end of Braveheart.  I can't say how they compared: I'm squeamish at the best of times so I took refuge behind a very helpful strategically placed stuffed tiger.

Oh, boy.  I hope they stage the sinking of the Mary Rose...  I really wish I'd been a fly on the wall for that one.  To see the look on Henry's face...  (NB: I do feel sorry for the sailors, who died as a result of Henry's vanity).

(no subject)

I've just returned for my first bike ride since...  November?  October?  Well, put it this way...  It's been so long that I actually can't remember.

I did just ten miles (which is just a pootle by our standards, a mere turning over of the legs...) and I'm now shattered.  I think on top of last night's adventure with Diva, it's been a bit of a struggle.  It's my cardiovascular system that's suffered most.  The pistons are working fine, but the engine and the fuel injection system needs a bit of work.  But it's a start.  The psychological effort involved in getting the bike out (thankfully, all moving parts were working properly) and getting out has been overcome.  AND THE SUN CAME OUT!!!  That, combined with my terribly tasty courgette and mint tarlet with salad, made for a splendid morning.  Which was promptly ruined when Inattentive Me ran over a large, disgusting dog turd that some thoughtful useless dog walker had left in the middle of the cycle track (though I suppose that's better than the assorted low-life who bag their dog-poo then drape the bag over a handy branch.  Perhaps they think it's art.  Or perhaps they believe that some Celestial Cleansing Brigade will descend from on high and remove it to a better place.)

The Tudors was entertaining last night.  Catherine Howard finally had her head chopped off.  And of course there was the obligatory hanging, drawing and quartering.  Which had to be good, because it had to compete with the current leader in that field, the end of Braveheart.  I can't say how they compared: I'm squeamish at the best of times so I took refuge behind a very helpful strategically placed stuffed tiger.

Oh, boy.  I hope they stage the sinking of the Mary Rose...  I really wish I'd been a fly on the wall for that one.  To see the look on Henry's face...  (NB: I do feel sorry for the sailors, who died as a result of Henry's vanity).