Leave or Stay

Interior of wood barn built in 1426; photo from sinage 

   Our last night in England before returning home was at Heathrow; our flight would leave in the morning so we had no choice but no overnight at the airport since the area we had been visiting was a good seven hours away.  But rather than park ourselves at one of the dozens of chain hotels near the outskirts of the airport we decided to try the small town of Hammondsworth nestled just beyond the roadway, a short ten-minute cab ride away and yet one seemingly miles away from the industrialized life that soared above us.  The "home" we would be staying in was built in 1645, a fact only brought out when we commented on the many dates on the tombstones in Saint Mary's Church just a few paces away.  Some of the inscribed dates were so old that they had nearly vanished with the stone, withering away as surely and as dearly as the bodies they so marked.  Died 1802, my wife exclaimed; one said 1799, I retorted as if still a child seeking to pull out the most brightly-colored egg at the annual Easter egg hunt.  1645, the innkeeper replied as sullenly as a stern school marm out to quell our one-upmanship.*  And one certainly felt that way, the floors creaking as if tired of being walked upon, their unevenness out to trip even the most careful and sober of guests.  Stepping over the lip of the small showers we commonly experienced in England did little to prepare you for the steady slope of the floor that unexpectedly ushered you out of the bathroom itself.  And the small spiraling stairs up to the room proved to be wider than the hallways which appeared to shrink with each turn of the corner as if entering a carnival's maze.  This was an historic estate, two parts of which still remained, and, like the nearly untouched barn nearby ("one of the largest ever known to have been built in England and...one of the most complete and unaltered pre-Dissolution buildings in Britian," says the sign) was somehow still in pretty darn good shape, perhaps held up more by its past than its actual fortifications (the barn was built in 1426).  But there were stories...

Old switch plate...electricity added early 1900s

    We had read some of the clippings, the recent owners purchasing the home in the 1970s for a sum estimated to be of about the same amount.  But as they shored up walls and checked plumbing and such, they soon discovered hidden passageways, areas once believed to hide Catholic monks who perhaps perished unknown (reputed tunnels to the nearby church were never found and neither was the rumored cache of hidden treasure).  Early windows were bricked in, a protest to the then-ruler's tax on the wealthy by taxing excess windows (glass windows were a luxury at the time and a way to openly display your rich lifestyle)...the tax led to the term "daylight robbery."  Modern building codes now required that fireplaces be sealed in for safety as well, perhaps trapping the spirits even more.   The large and genuinely old grandfather clock had stopped dead in the hallway, its time eerily frozen and yet often close enough to cause you to check your watch (was it changing each time?).  Are there ghosts here, we asked.  We've never seen them the hostess answered, then paused as if noting our anxious faces...its only the guests that have reported them.

Note the wood paneling common of the style of the time.

   These stories made good fodder for our last night, even the kindly halfway house residents who bade us come in and chat and let us cross their yard as a shortcut when we found a gate locked.  But it was little compared to the somewhat quieted story going on us outside the perimeter, that of Heathrow Airport's bid for a third runway, one which would threaten and perhaps seal the fate of the town.  In listening to some of the talk and reading some of the flyers, a few things became evident...this town (and other Burroughs allied with it) had so far won in court (and  had the backing of London's mayor) but was still facing a monumental battle.**  Heathrow Airport, once subsidized by the government but now owned by a private consortium of (says the flyer) "mostly foreign investors" and already deeply in debt (to the tune of an estimated $17.5 million and paying £500,000 in annual interest) had already gotten the backing of many of the politicians and had already paid a private PR company at least £30,000,000 to spread the word about the new runway's benefits, albeit in towns and areas throughout England which would NOT be affected.  Airlines were seemingly also in, seeing the extra 700 flights coming in and out with reduced congestion as a plus for both their profits and their harried passengers.  But if Brexit slowed all of that influx and banking and business took off for other countries, then what?  Would this massive undertaking truly become one for the history books? Compensation for the estate's building where we were staying (protected as being of historical importance), the hostess told us, would be the appraised value of the building plus 25% of future lost revenue...perhaps the politicians felt it would be worth the payout, that and a dusting of the hands, the roaring of jets overhead crumbling the walls and burying the past as easily and unremarkably as the monks before them.

   Somehow this brought to mind a story from Bermuda which appeared in the London Review of Books; it was about a not so good-looking bird that most have never heard of, and one pretty much thought to be long gone...the cahow.  Like the dodo and other trusting animals, the birds innocently walked up to stranded British soldiers who clubbed them and ate them for survival, only the men didn't stop and by the time the sailors were rescued, the birds (they only lay a single egg) were gone.  But 300 years later, a rare cahow was spotted on another island.  Somehow a few birds had moved for their own survival to an even more remote location (this was rare for like salmon, the birds return to the same nesting spot each year, as do their hatchlings).  Now strongly protected, the birds are watched by webcams and not visitors.  Said the article: It is salutary to reflect that if the cahow had been extinguished, as the dodo had been, it would make no apparent difference at all to the life of Bermuda; the ordinary families, the money machines, the America's Cup, and, of course, the ocean would still be here.  It may be stretching a point but could the return of the trusting cahows, who befriended those early mariners and were then killed out of hand, be seen as a good thing for Bermuda?  And, by extension, for all of us?  It is now the island's national bird.  It is being looked after diligently and scrupulously.  Nestling in their burrow, they are such very ordinary looking birds.

     Part of what I was coming away with after hearing much of this was that the rush to move forward, to keep pushing for faster, better, newer, was often clouding out the original lens of our history.  Certainly this Yank (me) was far from the person to pass judgement on politics or history or future plans, especially on that of airports or a country of which I truly knew little about; but I could see the past in the people I had talked to, the acceptance of what now existed, melded with the reflection of what once was a slower and perhaps more reflective life, the buildings scheduled to be demolished maybe ringing a bit too close to home on their aching bones as if they themselves (and their lifestyles) were next.  But mixed in with that was their energy, the spirit that would carry them onward and keep them going; but not only onward but onward with enthusiasm.  Politics and buildings would come and go but the stories told within pubs and front sitting rooms would survive unscathed as it had for centuries.  It was perhaps an ale-downed or pint-tainted version of oral history (as the British tend to do) but an oral history nonetheless, one steeped in pride and tradition.  Maybe they could stop the construction of the runway, maybe not.  But many of them were going to try...a British revolution to take place on their own soil.  And who knows, this time they might end up getting some spiritual help from below the ground as well...

* A fire swept through much of the main hall soon after its construction and much of the entrance was rebuilt some 50 years later in the 1700s.

**National Geographic recently posted views of a fairly long-standing protest occupation of lands near the proposed third runway, a community living entirely off the grid but as one resident said, "walking the walk."  If you wish to find about more about the effort to stop the expansion at Heathrow, scheduled to start in 2020, you can go to their website (they head to court tomorrow, October 4, 2018).