Marking Time

October 15, 2025November 30, 2025 Tim Campbell-Green2 Comments

What ho, wonderful, and slightly odd, folk of the blog reading sort. I hope you are all as well as can be expected, and as we move into autumn, you get out an about as much as you can – always keeping an eye open for pottery and other interesting things.

Which sort of leads me to today’s offering. It’s a mixture, to be honest, some updates, some new stuff, but all interesting. I have said before that I always have multiple half-written articles on the go, all moving at different speeds – but for one reason or another, none leapt out at me asking to be finished. So here we are… Marking Time!

I’ve always been obsessed with the idea of humans marking their surroundings, and the notions of permanence, even immortality, that accompany this; from palaeolithic cave art to bronze age cup and ring markings, to 17th century building datestones, to Victorian carved graffiti, to modern tags – and I’m looking here at you, Boof, whose name is everywhere around Glossop at the moment – it all amounts to broadly the same thing: marking time.

Datestones update: As always, I am on the lookout for more datestones of a pre Victorian date (pre-1837). I recently bagged this:

Wonderful – ‘I.M. 1703’ – to the point, although I have no idea who I (or more likely J) M is. I have a whole article about Herod Farm and the surrounding area in progress, but wanted to share the datestone with you.

*UPDATE*

The always knowledgeable Roger Hargreaves emailed me a comment he tried to post on the site – technical issues prevented it, but here it is:

The “JM” on the Herod Farm datestone will be John Morton, who in 1692 succeeded his father, also John, as leaseholder of the adjacent Lees Hall. It’s likely that he then demolished the mediaeval hall which had been the main farming base of the Talbots and before them Basingwerk Abbey as Lords of the Manor. At the rear of Herod Farm is an elaborate window which has clearly come from somewhere else and is likely to be surviving fabric from the demolished hall, giving some idea of what it must have been like.

So there we have it – John Morton, and a teaser about the Lees Hall – a fascinating place, with a long history, and possibly a moat! Well worth an article and more. Thanks Roger, your input is always much appreciated.

Update to the Gatepost article: We recently bought a campervan, a mobile home with beds and a stove, and all that. It’s marvellous, and is unmissably yellow, or more truthfully YELLOW! (give a shout and wave if you see it around). Our first adventure camping was to Peak Forest, near Buxton, and coming home we decided to take an odd route for the sake of exploration – a vehicular Wander, if you will. Coming through Wheston, south-east of Chapel-en-le-Frith, we came across lots of gateposts, modern and made of concrete, but each marked with initials and dates:

I have no idea who CTH is – presumably the farmer who is replacing gateposts – but I salute your attention to detail – initials and date – and respect your devotion to tradition; earlier, 19th century, examples of dated gateposts can be found here. It might be concrete, but the idea is exactly the same, and I want to buy you, CTH, a glass of the stuff that cheers. Wonderful.

Next we have things seen on pavements… Glossop seems to have inherited the whole street paving slabs second-hand from somewhere. I seem to remember a whole hoo-ha about these stones, and others, occurring maybe 20 years ago – their origin and how much was paid for them… or something. Whatever, but what is certain is that they have some interesting markings on them, and all of these were seen between Costa Coffee and the Norfolk Arms – almost certainly more await discovery, so look down people:

A simple cross, formed of two chisel strokes.

‘1 – 7’ with the ‘1’ formed apparently by three chisel strokes, the ‘seven ‘7’ by three down and two across. No idea of the meaning.

A cross, and a hole filled with a lead plug. It’s difficult to imagine what this large flat stone would need a hole with a lead fixing for – it’s not like it was used for a gatepost or similar. I genuinely cant imagine what or why!

Finally we have this beauty:

So, we have a name in the bottom left, clumsily written – ‘Joseph’ something or other… D? B? Can anyone make out this? The second letter could be an ‘E’. Possibly. But then we have what might be a landscape – the top right looks like a fat sun, drawn by a child, to me. And in the centre, at the bottom, possibly a house (I think I can see the roof and walls, with perhaps a person in it). This is really an enigma – a name, and a piece of art, undatable, and probably from a place far from Glossop… but imagine if we could put a person to it. And all this, lying under our feet.

Other bits and pieces under our feet include markings on kerbs:

A simple ‘T’, probably referring to Telephone, and marking where the cable came into a property.

This is also sometimes marked by ‘GPO’ on kerbs, standing for General Post Office who were originally (from 1880’s until 1981) responsible for telephone communications. I once found an example on a kerb on Howard Street, but had not been able to find it since, until I came back from a blood test at the clinic there, and this was picked out of the dark by street lights:

Wonderfully carved, this was, I assume, where the telephones for the train station entered the buildings.

Another ‘T’, but this one in Old Glossop seems to have an errant exclamation mark after it!

Another slightly odd kerbside marking – an ‘E’, which is believe marks the place where electricity cables enter a property. It is quite common, although in this case it is accompanied by an ‘S’ and a ‘T’, the meaning of which I have no idea.

I also saw this on Princess Street – another marker showing where electricity enters a property – this is also quite a commonly found one.

A no frills, very clear and functional, EL!

Here’s another mark that is commonly seen: a simple arrow, but not like the Ordnance Survey benchmark arrow, this is normally crudely carved, thin, and without the horizontal line above it… thus:

This is another of those that points to a service – gas, possibly, or electricity – entering a building, although I truthfully don’t know… any help would be welcome.

However, here is a Benchmark, newly found by me, under the railway bridge on Arundel Street, and which marks 501ft 8″ above sea level:

Worn, and almost camouflaged, there it is.

Also on the bridge are these single holes, often found in the upper part of the stone:

And here…

These small, shallow, holes were made in order to use a pincer, or external, Lewis and frame in order to move the blocks. A genius invention, it’s a simple iron tool that, via a chain, uses the weight of the block itself to hold it fast whilst it is moved, and enables even a single person to shift a huge piece of stone. But it requires a shallow hole in order to provide a point that gives a good grip. I love these, as they allow us to view how the bridge was built.

Another example of us viewing the method by which these wonderful Victorian structures were built is this:

Often occurring in pairs, these are drill marks made by quarrymen, into the rock face, which allow them to insert a splitter to pry away the stone from the quarry face. Once seen, they are very recognisable, and are the scars that show how, with a little physics and a lot of brute force, rock can be shifted.

Howard Street, which meets the Arundel Street bridge, has a few, sporadic, mason’s marks along the stretch of railway walling here:

Low key, and not very common, these nonetheless represent the ‘signatures‘ of the men who shaped these stones. The cross is a common mark carved on stones – it is literally two strokes with a chisel – so it cannot be definitively linked to those masons who built Dinting Arches, but you never know.

Other mason’s marks can be found around…

This is found on a lump of masonry from Wood’s Mill, and now stands where Wood’s Mill once stood, now Glossop Brook View, and by the houses there. Post-1842 in date, although possibly early, the mark was hidden until the mill was demolished – the rough dressing of the block indicates that it was never meant to be seen. I wonder who ‘B’ was.

This last one is on the gatepost of the Crown Inn, Victoria Street (although the gates are on Hollincross Lane); very faint – and difficult to photograph – they are in the angular shape of a fish.

I also spotted this on Howard Street:

A dated piece of cement. This is either dated proof of work done – a modern form of mason’s mark – or possibly a dated repair that allows Network Rail to observe cracks forming and assess integrity. Either way, it’s kind of cool!

Finally, some bits of carved graffiti, a particular favourite of mine.

A single ‘J’ on the wall of Heath Barn, Heath.

Also on the north wall of Glossop churchyard, on Church Street – initials – R C J W P. The arrangement is odd, and I wonder if they were 4 members of a single family, with the surname ‘J’. That could surely be traced if it was the case!

These last two were from the bridge over the Longdendale Trail on Padfield Main Road. The whole bridge has a lot of graffiti carved on it, including this wonderful example:

Old and the new. I love this photograph, and am very proud of it!

Here we have Victorian carved graffiti – ‘J.H’, possibly, along with some more letters, undecipherable under the frost, over an early incarnation of the now famous (infamous) BOOF graffiti tag made with a spraycan. I find it interesting that we would condemn one, but praise the other as historical and interesting. When does vandalism become history and worthy of study? A bigger discussion, and one I find fascinating (akin to when does something become archaeology?). I know graffiti, as in modern graffiti – put it down to a misspent youth and a love (despite appearances to the contrary) of Hip Hop – and I have followed BOOF’s career with a certain interest.

So here I shall leave it. Making marks, and marking time – it’s all about trying to achieve immortality, to leave your mark long after you are gone, and making people remember you, even if they don’t know who you are. I think that’s all any of us, myself included, can hope for. There are so many examples of this phenomena in the Glossop area, and I have an idea to produce a book looking at precisely this sort of thing – watch this space.

Talking of books, please check out Where/When Number 7 – Forts and Crosses: A Mellor Wander.

This one is a truly awesome Wander around Mellor – just over yonder! It has medieval field systems and farms, Victorian noise, an Iron Age hill fort, medieval crosses, cracking views, a terrifying viaduct, bench marks, a trig point, wonderful gateposts, and it starts and finishes at a pub… what’s not to love? Here’s the cover to tempt you.

Available from the shop, link above, or from Dark Peak Books and Gifts, High Street West, Glossop. Or, you know, just track me down and throw money at me.

Talking of which… if you enjoyed this, and fancy buying me a glass of the stuff that cheers, then please do so via this link to my Ko-Fi page. I do what I do here because I love doing it, and I feel it’s important we explore our shared heritage… but I’ll never say no to a pint in thanks!

So much more news to share, and so many things planned. Watch this space, wonderful people, as big things are coming.

But on a serious level, how are you doing? Genuine question. Personally, I’m a little down at the mo… the devastating loss of my brother (cheers Stephen, I’ll miss you), coupled with a dose of Covid, and the general malaise that accompanies the move from summer into autumn and winter, has meant a lull in the festivities here at CG Towers. Still, the wheel turns, the seasons they change, and life will inevitably continue, and on we go. But as I always say, look after yourselves and each other, you really are important, and too often we say “I’m aright” when we actually mean “I’m not alright, please help” – it’s ok to not be ok.

So then, more coming, but until next time, I remain.

Your humble servant,

TCG

Bench Marks · Stones of Glossop · Towns of Glossop

A Bevy of Boundary Stones

December 14, 2020December 14, 2020 Tim Campbell-Green2 Comments

Ho! Ho! And if I might dare, What Ho! A shortish one today, and actually one that is something of a relief, if I’m honest. Like the last post, this one has been years in the making, but this time for all the wrong reasons… all will become clear in a moment, but for now let’s crack on.

As the title suggests boundaries are today’s topic, apt as we hurtle to the Winter Solstice and the shortest day – that anciently observed boundary between the old year and the new. Boundaries such as these are often held to be dangerous places as they are a liminal space – neither one thing nor another, but somewhere in between. However, boundary stones in particular I find fascinating and strangely appealing objects; there is something very grounding about them in that they mark in a clear, permanent, and fixed way, an imaginary line. On one side ‘X’ and on the other ‘Y’, and there is no argument – the somewhat liminal boundary is made visible and real, and so it is the case with our stones today – three stones placed on bridges over various waterways delineating the townships that make up Glossop

All three, it seems, were carved and installed at the same time, and all are quite old – early Victorian. The first of the stones is the easiest found – Victoria Bridge in the centre of Glossop.

Bount — Station at the top, above the High Street crossroads. The bridge over Glossop Brook, and the stone, is circled in orange. Glossop is north of the Brook, Whitfield is south.

And here it is in real life.

Boundary St — Victoria Bridge. Wetherspoons is in the background, and Glossop Brook runs beneath.

The bridge, and the stone, stand over Glossop Brook, which disappears under the market place and carpark, and the line carved between the words Glossop and Whitfield is the centre line of the brook below. Victoria Bridge was built in 1837, the year Queen Victoria ascended the throne, hence the name. This new bridge replaced an old and narrow hump-backed pack-saddle one. Indeed, the original line of the road that led over the bridge, down Smithy Fold, and along Ellison Street is traceable, and is preserved particularly in the buildings of the Brook Tavern, Cafeteria, Glossop Pizza, Balti Palace (all built in 1832). I have a blog post almost finished that looks at this area in more detail, so I won’t go into it here.

Looking closely, the inscription “Victoria Bridge” and the date “1837” are in a different font and slightly larger than the other lettering on the stone, and are more cramped, and it seems they were added at a later date. Indeed, compare this stone to the one below, and you can see they both once looked the same.

And of course, it wouldn’t be the Glossop Cabinet of Curiosities without a bench mark, this one on the bridge and just to the left of the boundary stone.

The next stone is to be found on Charlestown Road, on a bridge over Long Clough Brook – it’s very much a blink and you’ll miss it kind of affair, even if you are walking.

Bounty — Turnlee and Charlestown Roads join at the top, with the boundary stone circled in orange.

bound3 — Here is the bridge over Long Clough Brook on Charlestown Road. The stone is visible.

bound1 — Here it is in close-up. Can you spot a mistake?

This stone follows the same formula as the Victoria Bridge stone, but is slightly rougher in execution. It seems to have been reset into a rebuilt stone wall at some stage, as it doesn’t really match the coarse surface of the stone around it, and this resetting might explain the cracking. It also has an inexcusable mistake… there’s a bloody apostrophe after ‘township’! It should read ‘TOWNSHIPS’, the plural of township, but instead it reads that ‘Township’ owns something called an ‘of Simmondley and Whitfield’! Also, although it states that this is the boundary between Simmondley and Whitfield, it technically isn’t. This is the border between Chunal and Simmondley, but it seems that for administrative purposes, Chunal and Whitfield were often lumped together. The confluence of Bray Clough (from Gnat Hole) and Long Clough Brook (just east of the boundary bridge) is actually the meeting of the three townships of Chunal, Simmondley, and Whitfield, here:

bounty2 — The three townships illustrated at the junction of Bray Clough Brook and Long Clough Brook. Chunal in green, Simmondley in red, and Whitfield in yellow.

So far, so good.

Now, the third and final stone was a bit more of a mystery. According to Neville Sharp (Glossop Remembered p.184 – a great book, by the way, well worth seeking out – here for example, but order it from Bay Tree Books on the High Street, of course), a stone similar to the one on Victoria Bridge stood on the bridge over Hurst Brook which forms the north eastern boundary between Glossop and Whitfield. That is until it was washed away in a flash flood.

Bound4 — High Street East at the top, with Derbyshire Level running from the Royal Oak off the map at the bottom. The word stone on the bridge over Hurst Brook is circled.

Then, whilst doing some research, I came across a reference to the stone and made a note in my notebook that until at least 1977 the stone stood next to the entrance to Golf Course. Annoyingly, I didn’t take down the reference and it’s taken me 3 years to track down the source of the information. Three years! Such is the level of detail and dedication I devote to this blog in order that you, gentle reader, can revel in such a fascinating subject as “bits of old plate” as it was once described by the person who runs the ‘Official Glossop‘ twitter account. Honestly, the nerve of some people…

So I re-found the source – this website – and blow me if it didn’t have a link to photographs of the stone taken in 1977:

Boundary Stone 1 (1977) — Entrance to the golf course on Derbyshire Level, the boundary stone bottom centre, in the glorious sunshine of the summer of 1977

Boundary Stone 2 (1977) — Close up of the boundary stone with part of the word ‘Glossop’ visible. Please note that I don’t have the copyright to these photographs, and make no claim to such, they are merely ‘borrowed’ from the above site.

The stone was presumably recovered, in its broken state, and set up on the side of the Golf Club entrance, and whilst it doesn’t look like there is a lot left I went to have a look.

Boundary St1 — The same view as the first photograph above, missing the important piece.

Alas… the stone is no longer there. I had a good look around at all the stones that might be a possibility, but to no avail. I suspect that someone has taken it – it was a nice piece of stone after all, but it is a shame. All is not negative, though, and from the 1977 photograph we might suggest where it originally stood; the fact that the fragmentary word ‘Glossop’ is visible at the left hand end of the stone means that it could only have stood at the eastern side of the bridge, closest the golf course, for it to make geographic sense – Glossop is north, Whitfield is south at this point. Here, in fact:

bound2 — Here. You can see the modern(ish) bridge that must have replaced the one that was washed away. Here, Hurst Brook separates Whitfield (right) from Glossop (left).

Its fragmentary nature also suggests that more of it lies in the stream bed – I had a look, but couldn’t see any likely stones, but perhaps next summer I’ll have a poke around.

Right ho, that’s all for this time. Hope you enjoyed a ramble around the boundaries, and in fact I am writing a blog post that actually covers the boundaries of medieval Glossopdale based on a 13th century perambulation. I’d also like to do another that looks at the boundaries of all 10 townships of Glossop as they are in the Domesday Book, which could be a bit of fun. ‘Could‘ being the operative word here. And ‘fun‘ being an entirely subjective concept, I realise. But you, kind and gentle people, know what I mean… after all, you’re reading this. Please drop me any thoughts or hints, even to point out my mistakes, or the fact that I need a haircut. Take care of yourselves and each other, have a very merry Christmas, and until next time, I remain.

Your humble servant,

Bench Marks

A Lost Bench Mark

November 3, 2019 Tim Campbell-GreenLeave a comment

Morning all. Apologies for the recent lack of activity; all usual reasons apply, but we’ll spare the grovelling and move swiftly on.

I was contacted recently by the wonderful Geoff Bell, who informed me that he knew the whereabouts of one of the bench marks that had been declared lost by me in this post. Specifically, this one.

GB BM — The location of the no longer missing bench mark, 562.5 ft above sea level.

How wrong I was! I popped over to see him (and his wonderful garden), and he showed me the stone and mark. It wasn’t easy to get to, but at least I can now tick it off my list.

Here is the stone:

GB BM1 — Stood at the end of, and incorporated into, the wall.

The stone is interesting. It is clearly in its original place, with the current wall being relatively recently added, but following the line of the original wall. This original wall used the stone as a reference point (it curves to meet it), and it was clearly here before the wall was built, leading to the question of… what was it? It seems not to have functioned as a gatepost, it has no evidence of metal ‘fixings’, nor is it shaped like other gateposts, and it would be an odd place to have it. It is possible that it was a free-standing standing stone, perhaps even prehistoric, but it is difficult to prove. It might also have marked a track, and although the probably Medieval or earlier Bank Street runs close by, it’s way below (some 39 ft and more, to be precise), and no one moves a stone that big very far up hill. No, it’s a bit of a mystery, but hey ho.

So, this is what 562.5ft above sea level looks like! Apologies for the close-up – there was no easier way of taking the shot – it really was quite inaccessible!

GB BM2 — Exactly 562.5ft above sea level.

So there we have it. My sincere thanks to Geoff (lovely to meet you) for alerting me to this. If anyone else wants to get in touch and tell me about anything interesting, please do… especially if it involves bench marks!

Oh, and on the way out of his garden, I saw these striking Fly Agaric mushrooms:

GB BM3 — Amanita Muscaria – the Fly Agaric.

Wonderful to look at, and used by shamen throughout the world to commune with the other worlds and work magic. Interesting, but I really wouldn’t recommend it.

Right. I ‘ll try and get another post done this evening, but for now, I remain.

Your humble servant

Archaeology · Crosses of Glossop

Hollincross Lane Cross

October 6, 2017October 6, 2017 Tim Campbell-Green3 Comments

In his book ‘Crosses of the Peak District’, Sharpe (2002) lists Hollincross Lane, by St James’ church, Whitfield, as being the site of one of Glossop’s long lost crosses (p.110, paraphrasing Hamnett). When I had previously thought about Hollincross Lane, I had assumed that the name refers to the Whitfield Cross, and thus the road that runs down into Hollincross Lane via Freetown. But actually, a cross here would make sense as it would mark the junction of three trackways: north to Woodhead and beyond, east to Whitfield and thence to (Old) Glossop or Chunal via Gnat Hole, and west to Dinting and Simmondley. The way south, Charlestown Road, only came into existence with the construction of the turnpike road in the early 19th century – before that, the only way to Chunal was via Gnat Hole.

Hollincross Map — 1969 1:2500 map showing routes north, east, and west. The hypothetical situation of the cross would probably have been at the church end of James Street

A cross marking this junction would have had its uses, then. Indeed, we can also play a speculation game (putting on my prehistorian’s hat for a moment) and suggest that the siting of St James’s Church (1840 or thereabouts – the foundation stone was laid on 27th September 1844, and it was consecrated almost 2 years later on 8 September 1846) was influenced by the existence (or memory) of a cross there indicating holy ground. Wild speculation, I know… but let’s pretend! Etymologically speaking ‘Hollincross’ may be understood as either ‘Holy Cross’, or ‘Holly Cross’ – a cross covered in or situated by some holly

Now obviously there is no cross there now, and Hamnett, writing in the late 19th century, could find no trace of a cross either – seemingly it’s location was lost to even the oldest residents of Whitfield. At some stage, then, our hypothetical cross has been removed. This could have happened for any number of reasons, ranging from pious iconoclasm (a stone cross is an object of adoration and thus ‘Popery’, or Roman Catholic veneration of things and people) to it simply being in the way of traffic. I know of one example, not local, of a 9th century Mercian Roundshaft that was rescued from a farmer who was in the process of rolling it down a hill and into a stream in order to plough his field. And this was in the 1960’s…

Crosses and bases were, then, broken up and re-used in walls, and as people don’t move stone further than they have to, especially in a stone rich area such as this, it sometimes pays to have a look around to see what you can see. With this in mind, and taking advantage of a lull in the rain, James and I went for a wander down to St James’ churchyard (via the park, obviously). He had a whale of time, helped no doubt by the drink of juice that the rector gave him! So, what did I find? Nothing definite, certainly, but just possibly, something.

Hollincross 1 — A stone amongst the stones. What is this lump?

Just opposite the main entrance to the church, by the path and amidst the gravestone sits a large lump of stone. It is roughly 2′ square and 1′ high, has been knocked about a fair bit, and is now fairy shapeless. However, one side has clearly been shaped and worked, and with the eye of faith one can see chisel marks.

Hollincross 2 — The side closest to the camera is flat and has been worked by tools. Is this the base of Hollin Cross?

Now, I am not sure what this is! It is not a glacial erratic as they are often rounded and smooth like a pebble, and I don’t think it is part of the church building, as it is the wrong type of stone. It might be the cross base, but there is no visible socket – the hole in which the cross shaft sits to make it secure. However, the socket may have been on the part that has been knocked off, or is perhaps underneath if the base had been up-ended. It is very uncertain, but we can be sure that the stone was not planned as such to be there – it makes no sense, and doesn’t even have an aesthetic value – rather it is a left-over from the land prior to the construction of the church.

I had a look around the walls for cross pieces, but could find nothing likely, and I think a winter trip around the churchyard is in order!

Of course, whilst I was there, I took the opportunity to photograph the bench mark on the church itself – how could I resist!

BM - St James, Whitfield — 548.9 ft above sea level, to be precise. That’s a roughly 120 ft difference between here and the top end of Whitfield Cross.

Any thoughts or comments are always welcome.

Bench Marks

More Bench Marks

July 31, 2017July 31, 2017 Tim Campbell-Green1 Comment

Following on from the original Bench Mark post (here), I thought I would have a look around and see if any others were nearby. And so, after a fun evening spent poring over old maps, making notes, glass of wine in hand, I thought I’d spend a few hours stomping around Whitfield trying to find the lost Bench Marks.

I have used the 1898 1:2500 and the 1969 1:2500 Ordnance Survey maps. There are differences; marks have clearly disappeared, to be replaced by others, buildings have gone, and land has become altered meaning that some marks are now on private property. Here are the maps with the Bench Marks numbered, the photos follow. There are more Bench Marks on the maps that I haven’t numbered yet – I will update the blog when I get round to looking for them!

BM - 1898 Map 1 — The 1898 1:2500 OS Map. Cliffe Road runs SW-NE, Whitfield Cross is just off the bottom left, and The Beehive pub is down, Volcrepe and Old Glossop are Straight up. The numbers in red correspond to photographs and discussion below.

What follows are the photographs I took of the various remaining Bench Marks, their number corresponding to that on the map.

1 (679.1 ft above sea level)
Tucked away at the side of the house, and quite worn. I wonder how many people living in these houses know they are there?

2 (700.8 ft above sea level)
Clear on a wall on the path.

3 (728.8 ft above sea level)
Marked on a gatepost

4 (698.8 ft above sea level)

Originally on a wall running down to Cliffe Road, and now on private land. It may well be still there, but I wasn’t able to see. It is not marked on the 1969 map.

5 (716.2 ft above sea level)
Another gate post, and again very clear and fresh.

In between Marks 5 and 6 you pass through this stile.

Now, I will post more about this stile later on as I think there is a lot more going on here, really quite interesting things, and it deserves its own post.

6 (682.0 ft above sea level)
This is a particularly important bench mark as it has been placed on the actual Whitfield Cross. **THE** Whitfield Cross. The cross was moved from its original position at the top of Whitfield Cross (the road) in the 1790’s and ended up as a stile post in a field. The cross itself is Saxon in date (probably 9th Century) and is of a type known as a Mercian Round Shaft. You can see the band around the top that both dates it… and makes it look somewhat phallic! I will go into a lot more detail about the cross in a later post, as I think it is one of the most important pieces of history in the area, and one of the most overlooked, but for now, let’s move on

7 (682.6 ft above sea level)

Again, on a wall that is now on, I think, private land. I did have a quick look, but couldn’t see anything, so I left it and moved on. This Bench Mark is not marked on the 1969 map.

8 - Location Only — 8 (636.7 ft above sea level)
Originally on the corner of a retaining field wall. I searched high and low, even pulling over the stones that had fallen down hoping to find the mark, but to no avail. I suppose a full-scale excavation might uncover the stone, but I’m giving it up as a lost cause. It is not marked on the 1969 map.

9 - Location Only — 9 (627.3 ft above sea level)
A similar story here, too. The stone has gone missing, perhaps one of the stones at the top that has collapsed down, although the wall itself looks like it has been rebuilt at some stage which may explain its absence.

10 (671.8 ft above sea level)
Flatt Farm, on the corner of the farm building, and very difficult to see. It took me a while, but the level of the pavement has risen in the last century or so, leaving the level just visible above the tarmac surface, the arrow now buried below.

Moving onto the 1969 map, there are two additions: 11 and 12. The Bench Marks that are not on the 1969 map have been noted above.

BM - 1969 Map 1

11 (657.64 ft above sea level)
This one should be on the corner of the last house on Bright’s Terrace – the last row of houses on Cliffe Road. I found no sign of it, and it is probably hidden behind the flower bed.

12 (611.48 ft above sea level)
A little down the hill on the right, clear on a wall.

And so ends my brief sojourn – both geeky and fun. I have done a bit more Bench Mark walking, and I’m sure they will feature in future posts, but that’s it for now.

Incidentally, both maps are available for free from http://www.old-maps.co.uk a truly marvellous website that has old Ordnance Survey maps for the whole country dating back to the mid 19th Century, and all for free. Seriously, if you find any of this interesting in any way, hop over and have fun!

Bench Marks

Whitfield Cross Bench Marks

July 28, 2017August 2, 2017 Tim Campbell-Green2 Comments

Bench marks are a bit of an oddity. Most people would never know they were there, and of the people that do notice them, most have no clue what they are. And yet, they are quite literally all over the United Kingdom, and once you have seen one, you will start to see them everywhere!

In short, when the original Ordnance Survey maps were being drawn up (1840’s or thereabouts, though work continued until the 1950’s), the surveyors needed to know the height above sea level at certain points in the landscape, so that they could work out hill heights, elevations, contour lines and such. These were marked on the map, but as translating the exact location on the map to that on the ground could leave room for mistakes, it was decided that a permanent and precise mark would be made on the place where the measurement was taken. This is the Bench Mark. They were carved very carefully by chisel onto stone that was either fixed, or very unlikely to be moved – churches, pubs, grand buildings, gate posts and the like. The symbol was usually paced at ground level, and was very simple, and very subtle – a single horizontal line (from where the measurement was taken), and underneath three lines forming a vertical arrow like this:

Benchmark - Example

Over half a million of these marks existed at one time, and the entire network of marks (at least 1 per square mile in rural areas, a much greater density in urban areas) was maintained by the Ordnance Survey until 1972 when they abandoned it as too expensive. Whilst large numbers of the marks have disappeared (buildings are demolished or changed, stones are moved, etc.) the majority are still here, hidden, waiting to be found. Whilst looking at an old OS map of Whitfield Cross (1898 1:2500), I noticed there were two on the road. They are marked BM, followed by a number (the height, in feet, above sea level), and their location is shown by the arrow.

BM Map

The first was at the bottom of Whitfield Cross, at the edge of the building that used to be The Roebuck pub.

BM1 - Actual

It is very worn, but you can just make out the three lines that make up the arrow – now just hollows – and the level on top. This particular Bench Mark is 598.1 feet above sea level.

The other Bench Mark is on the edge of a pair of houses, and is much clearer and better preserved. It seems the surveyors used the flat top of the bottom course of stone as the spot height, which is exactly 630.3 feet above sea level.

BM2

That’s a difference of 32 feet, or thereabouts; Whitfield Cross is a steep hill.

And for comparison, here is the Benchmark near the Beehive pub at the top of the hill

BM - By the Beehive This is at 670.9 – 70 or so feet higher.

It is a bit geeky, but there is something about Bench Marks that really intrigues me – information hidden in plain sight, and a piece of forgotten history. There are even people who ‘collect’ them, ticking them off against the log that the OS had (see here), but that is, I fear, a step too far down Geek Avenue for even me!

Now that you know what they are, and where they are, keep your eyes peeled.