Northampton

My maternal grandfather, Leonard Peter Robinson lived in Northampton. At the age of 21 he wrote a farewell letter to his parents, brother and sisters, caught a train to London where he boarded the Athenic on 18 January 1909 and sailed away to New Zealand. Prior to his departure he worked for an iron monger business on Gold Street, Northampton.

His father, my great-grandfather was the Superintendant of the London & North Western Railway Company. He conducted his responsibilities from the Northampton Castle Station. The building of his era has been replaced three times since then and a modern station

now stands on the site.

Next door to the present railway station is the remains of a gate which was once an entrance into Northampton Castle.

Northampton Castle was one of the most famous Norman castles in England. It was built under the stewardship of the first Earl of Northampton, in 1084 and took several years to complete.

In 1164, Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury was tried at the castle before a great council. Having escaped by dressing as a monk, Becket then fled to France.

In the years following the Black Death (1346-53) the castle fell into decline and by the Elizabethan period the site was described as ruinous.

The castle was 'obliterated' by the arrival of the railway in the 19th century, the station of which was built on the castle site and the construction of the original Northampton Castle railway station.

After a visit to the present railway station and a look at the old castle ruins, we walked into the centre of the city, visited yet another amazing church and then found the Northampton Museum tucked away around the corner.

The museum presently has a display of embroidery work done by the Northampton Embroiderers Guild. Simply stunning.

There is also a display of shoes. Now I thought that that would be fairly ordinary but was surprised and astonished at the collection on display. There were shoes that were worn by the Chinese women who had bound their feet. They were so tiny. I have seen photos of these shoes but seeing them "in the flesh" was quite a revelation. They were even smaller than a pair of baby shoes from the 18th century.

Often, I would see a pair of shoes that I thought wouldn't be out of place in a Brisbane shoe shop today only to discover that they were in fact from the 1930's or 1950's. There is nothing new in fashion it seems.

Unfortunately the light was so low in this display that I couldn't take any photos and my flash would just have reflected off the glass cases.

Next morning we made a detour to visit 62 Colwyn Road, the house grandfather Robinson was born in. The same house where he left the letter on the kitchen table and ran away from home. I can kind of understand why he would want to go to a place where there were wide open spaces and the farming live was in his veins.

Drove to Cambridge, returned the rental and began our next day's adventure.