Whereas today’s modern luxury yachts are undoubtedly glamorous, the Royal Yacht has a more sophisticated, and yet less opulent feel to it than you might expect. Having said that the ship is endowed with some superb craftsmanship and minute attention to detail.

The same applies to the way of life on-board. For example, the State Dining Table would take the crew 3 hours to set up with measured precision, and if the Queen needed to venture ashore, the Rolls Royce Phantom V would be taken out of its on-board garage to await Her Majesty’s pleasure.

The Royal Deck is undoubtedly the most fascinating part of the ship, but Below Decks is also interesting but in a completely different way. There was a 300 strong crew including a marine band, who could only communicate by hand signals as shouting wasn’t allowed on board.

I don’t think I was expecting to enjoy my visit as much as I did and there’s no doubt that the Royal Family lived a life of luxury on board, some of the time for their own pleasure, and some of the time for official business, and it didn’t surprise me to find out that our monarch shed a tear when the boat was decommissioned, after all who wouldn’t want to travel around in style like this?

The ship is looked after today by the Royal Yacht Britannia Trust which is a registered charity, the profits of which all go back into the preservation of the vessel.

If you run out of time and can be bothered to return a card that needs to be filled out after your visit, you can return as many times as you like for a year. I’m not sure whether I would bother to do that, but I can certainly recommend making at least one visit. It’s an eye opener to say the least.

The attraction is open throughout the year except Christmas Day and New Year’s Day. Opening times vary slightly so it’s best to check the website for all the latest info.

https://www.royalyachtbritannia.co.uk/

With so many things to occupy people’s time in Edinburgh, not everyone will want to spend money on visiting a royal household, but with historical events like the murder of David Rizzio, there’s more to the palace than just grand rooms.

As you would expect, photography inside the palace isn’t allowed, but if the Palace of Holyrood House appeals to you, then check out their website below for all the latest up to date information.

https://www.rct.uk/visit/palace-of-holyroodhouse

https://www.flickr.com/photos/151533803@N06/albums/72157696063967435

https://www.flickr.com/photos/151533803@N06/albums/72157696063967435

Next up is the most important part of the castle – Crown Square, which includes the Royal Palace, the Great Hall, and the Scottish National War memorial, all of which I will be discussing in more detail.

Exiting the square on the opposite side to the Palace, make sure you take a left turn to visit the Military Prison and Prisons of War Exhibition.

From here it’s back downhill again and you can pick up the areas connected with the military that you might not have taken in beforehand.

The time spent here will obviously depend on your own specific interests, but it’s not Scotland’s most visited paid for attraction for nothing, so don’t underestimate the time you might want to spend here – and don’t forget – you can always print this article out if you want to remember my suggestions.

Moving on up through the Nave, look out for the brass Compass Rose set into the floor. With so many things to take in, it would be easy to overlook this, but it’s the symbol of the Anglican Communion of which Canterbury Cathedral is the Mother Church.

Just to your left is something you definitely can’t miss – the Pulpit. This painted Gothic Revival platform is Victorian and a bit too garish for my liking, but I have to remember that churches were quite colourful in the past, and so it’s probably me that’s out of step here.

As if to prove the point there are any number of flamboyant memorials scattered around the cathedral and in the North Aisle of the Nave nearby are two good examples – one to the Hales family and another to Sir John Boys, a local dignitary who died in 1612.

There’s nothing unusual about seeing a Font, Pulpit, and Memorials in a church, but the Martyrdom is unique to Canterbury as this is where Thomas Beckett was struck down by Henry II’s knights on 29^th December 1170.

Richard Brito, Hugh de Moreville, Reginald FitzUrse, and William de Tracy (for a mixture of personal and political reasons) took up the king’s cause and attempted to seize Beckett in the North-West Transept, but the archbishop initially managed to shrug them off. He even threw FitzUrse to the ground who then drew his sword: The others joined in and Brito dealt the third and mortal blow; he used such force that he cut off the crown of Beckett’s head and shattered the tip of the blade on the stone floor.

After the event, an altar called the ‘Sword’s Point’ was installed at the spot where the martyr was slain, and the tip of the sword placed on top. It was destroyed at the time of Henry VIII’s break from Rome in 1538.

A replacement altar was added in 1986 – the first for 448 years – and accompanied by a striking new sculpture by Giles Blomfield of Truro. The tip of a blood-stained sword is flanked by two others creating shadows which represent the swords of the four knights. It may be modern but to me it creates a very apt and powerful memory of the event.

One of the Cathedral’s highlights are the magnificent collection of stained-glass windows, and in the Trinity Chapel aisles are a set of windows dedicated to St. Thomas. Anyone interested in the art of stained glass and the life of Thomas Beckett could spend ages here, but there are any number of different themed glass windows which all tell a story. Most of these stories are only of minor interest to me, but I’m still awestruck at the quality of workmanship that these craftsmen produced hundreds of years ago.

The Great South-West Window is especially worth checking out:

It contains twenty-four figures from the Ancestry of Jesus which, like many other of the cathedral windows, was originally installed in the Quire before iconoclasts and Puritans did their best to destroy them.

Some of the windows are at least 800 years old, and the style of one of the artists is so distinctive that he’s been called the Master of Methuselah, referring to the panel at the bottom of the man himself. Methuselah was supposedly the oldest man who ever lived when he died at the age of 969, but he’s portrayed as a young man in this panel.

A seven-year complex restoration project which was completed in 2016 has saved this magnificent window for future generations to appreciate.

Not all the stained glass in the cathedral is old, and in the nearby South-East Transept is an old window with modern glass created by Ervin Bossanyi.

Not too much is known about the artist except that he was a Hungarian Jew, imprisoned for five years during World War I, and fled Nazi Germany for England in 1934 where he kept a relatively private life producing remarkable work like this.

Not surprisingly, there are a good number of tombs dotted around the cathedral: Many of them are the final resting places of previous archbishops, which if I’m being honest doesn’t actually set my pulse racing, but I couldn’t help take a closer look at the tomb of Archbishop Chichele. It was the tomb rather than the man himself that grabbed my attention.

Henry Chichele was archbishop between 1414 and 1443 and a strong supporter of King Henry V. When the king died in France in 1422 Chichele received his body at Dover, which immediately gave him the idea of starting to prepare for his own burial. As it turned out he didn’t need the tomb until 1443, but what a tomb! A canopy supported by pillars decorated with saints shelters the effigy of the archbishop dressed in his episcopal vestments, while underneath, his naked body seems ready to be transported to another world. Every fifty years, Chichele’s Oxford foundation, the College of All Souls, restores the tomb.

Talking of King Henry V, the tomb of his father, Henry IV is in the Trinity Chapel.

The king’s 13½ year reign was beset with rebellions and plots against him, but it was his poor health that seen him off in 1413 at the age of 45. He wasn’t a universally popular figure and it seems that he chose Canterbury over Westminster Abbey for his final resting place so that he could lie close to Thomas Beckett – someone who could enhance his reputation as a legitimate king and a person who he had a lot of admiration and respect for. His second wife, Joan of Navarre, joined him in 1437.

You may think I have a death-wish or something because there’s one more tomb I want to talk about – that of Edward Woodstock, perhaps better known as the Black Prince. He was the eldest son of King Edward III and therefore heir to the English throne.

During the Hundred Years War with France he was regarded as one of England’s greatest knights for his bravery and chivalry, but to the French he was known for his brutality, and it was for this that he probably earned the nickname of the Black Prince.

His achievements on the battlefield weren’t the cause of his death however, but dysentery: Even so, he never lived long enough to succeed his father as King: That privilege fell to his son instead who became Richard II.

He was buried on the south side of the Trinity Chapel along with some of his heraldic ‘achievements’ on the wooden tester above. These have since been removed to a glass case and replaced with replicas.

The Victorians took the name ‘Black Prince’ literally and painted his gilded copper effigy in black: It was restored to its original glory in the 1930s.

Not only was the Black Prince a fine warrior, he was also buried in a fine tomb as well. Don’t miss it.

The tombs of both Henry IV and the Black Prince are located in the Trinity Chapel, which seems an appropriate place to end our tour of the cathedral, because it’s also the location of St. Augustine’s Chair.

This chair is the cathedra, or seat used for the enthronement of all Archbishops of Canterbury – a bit like the Coronation Chair in Westminster Abbey when a new monarch is crowned, and is therefore only used for such occasions.

Its name implies that it was around at the time of St. Augustine, but it’s much more likely to have replaced an earlier chair that was damaged in the fire of 1174.

Probably made around the time that Thomas Beckett’s body was moved to the Trinity Chapel in 1220, it sits close to the spot where the martyr’s shrine was kept until Henry VIII had it destroyed.

Today, a single candle burns at the same spot. Henry, his wives, and his enemies are all long gone, but even though he wanted Thomas Beckett’s name erased from history, his memory still lives on. It may only be in the form of a flickering flame – but it seems that his memory will never be extinguished altogether.

The cathedral has any number of chantry chapels containing the tombs of some of its most important bishops, and as you walk towards the Retrochoir you’ll pass Bishop Gardiner’s who officiated at Mary Tudor’s marriage to Philip of Spain in 1554 – right here in Winchester Cathedral.

The Retrochoir for me is the most fascinating part of the church. It was built in the 13^th century in the Early English style as an extension to the original Norman building. It was started by Bishop Godfrey de Lucy whose tomb still lies in the Retrochoir, although his simple tomb is in marked contrast to the chantry chapels of Bishop Waynflete and Cardinal Beaufort.

William Waynflete was not only Bishop of Winchester, but also Chancellor of England between 1447 and 1486 and the founder of Magdalen College in Oxford. Henry Beaufort was also Chancellor of England – three times – but he’s also been accused of having a part to play in the sentencing to death of Joan of Arc in 1431, which is why you can see a relatively modern statue of the ‘Maid of Orleans’ next to the Lady Chapel, no doubt in the hope that Winchester can be forgiven for its past misdemeanours.

The small statue of the ‘Winchester Diver’ nearby is also worth pointing out – but who was he?

He was actually a deep-sea diver who went by the name of William Walker: Earlier, I briefly mentioned that the cathedral suffered from subsidence, and that was largely due to the fact that it was built on marshy ground. The problem got so bad that by 1905 something had to be done about it and a massive underpinning operation began. A team of 150 men took six years to fix it, but it was thanks to William Walker who spent five years submerging himself under the high-water table day in and day out that enabled the water to be pumped out and new foundations to be built under the existing walls. Known as the diver who saved Winchester Cathedral there is even a pub named after him just down the road.

I did say that there were a lot of human stories connected with the cathedral, didn’t I? – and I haven’t even explained who St Swithun was yet.

Actually, there’s not that much known about him, except that he was a 9^th century bishop of Winchester with miraculous powers, but even that has to be open to debate if you ask me. Apparently during his lifetime, he performed just one miracle, and wait for it – he is supposed to have restored an old woman’s dropped basket of eggs!!

He was however credited with re-building Winchester’s bridge over the Itchen and his wish to be buried in a simple grave outside the Old Minster was granted.

In 971 (the 15^th of July to be precise), his bones were exhumed and carried into the church where a shrine was made in his honour. The event co-incided with a tremendous storm which has given rise to the famous rhyme: –

 

St Swithun’s Day, if thou dost rain

For forty days it must remain’

St Swithun’s Day, if thou be fair

For forty days ‘twill rain nae mair

Before the Old Minster was demolished, St Swithun’s relics were brought into the Norman Cathedral and displayed on a platform behind the altar. To enable pilgrims to get as close as possible to the shrine (and his healing powers) a ‘Holy Hole’ was introduced which people could crawl through.

The Holy Hole is still here, but St Swithun’s remains aren’t. When the Great Screen behind the altar was constructed, St Swithun’s bones were transferred to the spot in the Retrochoir where his present memorial now stands – and here they stayed until Henry VIII’s henchmen destroyed the shrine. Whatever happened to what was left of St Swithun nobody knows.

The Feretory Screen above the Holy Hole initially included statuettes of early kings and bishops but it seems as though they suffered a similar fate. Their place has recently been taken by icons painted by the Russian painter Sergei Federov.

If the Retrochoir is the most fascinating part of the cathedral, then I reckon that the Choir and Presbytery has to be the most magnificent. The 15^th century Great Screen is full of intricate stone carving, and although the original statues were destroyed at the Reformation the Victorian replacements also show a high degree of craftsmanship.

Superb craftmanship can also be seen in the choirstalls that were probably created by a Norfolk carpenter called William Lyngwode in the early 14^th century, and if you’re wondering why the tomb here says ‘12^th c Tomb’, it’s because it was thought that William Rufus was buried here. William Rufus was the third son of William the Conqueror who became King William II, and it’s more than possible that he was buried here, but the tomb is more likely to belong to Bishop Henry of Blois, Rufus’s nephew and younger brother of King Stephen.

Before you leave the Presbytery make a note of the mortuary chests of pre-Norman kings and bishops on top of the screens which were brought into the cathedral from the Old Minster by Henry of Blois.

As I mentioned earlier, the South Transept has a major renovation project in progress which means that the Fishermen’s Chapel, Morley Library and the Triforium Gallery are not accessible at the moment. Hopefully, 2019 will see access resumed with an improved experience.

If you haven’t had enough of seeing Winchester’s famous chantry chapels there are two more in the nave that are worth looking at – one of Bishop Edington and another of William of Wykeham. Both of them were Chancellors of England indicating how important the Bishops of Winchester were to the running of the country in post Norman times.

It’s impossible to cover everything that the cathedral has to offer in such a short review as this, but I’ve tried to include most of the highlights that appealed to me. Your preferences may differ to mine but I hope that it’s given people an idea of how important a part Winchester Cathedral played during England’s early years as a nation – as well as being such an inspiring place to visit.

After the Battle of Hastings William’s first objective was to be crowned King, and although Edward the Confessor’s new abbey at Westminster symbolized royal authority, Winchester was still the country’s most important city, and so after being anointed at Westminster he set about building a castle and extending the royal palace at Winchester.

It couldn’t have gone down too well that the monks of Winchester had allegedly fought alongside King Harold against William at Hastings, but even though the priory was spared, plans were afoot to demolish the Old Minster and replace it with a brand-new Norman cathedral – although it didn’t stop Matilda, the wife of King William, being crowned Queen here first.

In 1070, the last Anglo-Saxon bishop was deposed and replaced by Walkelin, a Norman from Rouen who was as much a politician as he was a man of the church.

Work started on the new building in 1079, but the Saxon church was kept in use until the essential parts of the Norman replacement were functioning efficiently.

Around Eastertime 1093 the first dedication of the new church took place, after which, the monks moved into their new home and the relics of St Swithun transferred. The very next day Walkelin ordered the demolition of the Old Minster.

Understandably, since the Norman church was built there have been many changes, but the crypt (which floods in the wintertime) and North and South Transepts are the best places to see Wakelin’s original Romanesque building. Unfortunately (or fortunately depending on which way you look at it), the South Transept was undergoing major renovation when I was here recently.

Winchester Cathedral doesn’t have quite the same imposing architectural exterior as say, Salisbury for example, but inside it’s another matter altogether. The mixture of styles throughout the centuries, along with some fascinating features and interesting people associated with the church, makes it a rewarding place to visit for anyone, whether you’re into history, architecture, or religion, and in the next article I’ll be wandering through the cathedral explaining some of the things you shouldn’t miss.

As you might gather, photography isn’t allowed inside the Crown Jewels, and the same applies to the Chapel Royal ad Vincula.

Its Anglicized name of the Chapel Royal of St. Peter in Chains has nothing to do with prisoners in the tower, but the chopping block on Tower Green isn’t far away.

All those that were executed there, including the three Queens, are buried here, as are some that were beheaded on Tower Hill, such as Sir Thomas More and John Fisher.

The chapel was originally a parish church until it was brought inside the Tower walls by Henry III. It became, and still is, a chapel for the community of the Tower of London.

It was rebuilt by Henry’s son, Edward I, and again during Henry VIII’s reign in 1519/20, and basically this is what we see today.

To visit this atmospheric little chapel, you’ll either need to join a Yeoman Warder’s Tour, visit within the last hour of normal opening times, or go to one of the services – but whichever you choose try not to miss it.

Believe it or not those who got executed on Tower Green were the lucky ones. Beheadings within the Tower precincts were reserved for the most prominent figures in society, but for the majority of prisoners in the tower who were sentenced to death, they had to face the indignity of having their head severed from the rest of their body in front of a large unruly crowd on Tower Hill.

There were in actual fact only seven people that were beheaded within the Tower precincts and three of those were Queens – Henry VIII’s second wife, Anne Boleyn (1536), his fifth wife, Catherine Howard (1542) and Lady Jane Grey (1554) who was Queen for just 9 days.

The Countess of Salisbury (1541) seemed to suffer the most as the axe man took eleven goes before he could finish the job off. The other three executed here were William Hastings in 1483, Jane Boleyn (1542) and Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex (1601).

In 2006, a more artistic memorial replaced the rather plain one that was here before. Designed by Brian Catling, he also includes three members of the Black Watch that were shot here by firing squad for mutiny in 1743.

There were more executions by firing squad elsewhere within the Tower in the 20^th century. During WW1 there were eleven shot for spying and in WW2 Josef Jakobs, a German, faced the firing squad for the same thing and was the last man to be shot in the Tower. The chair on which he was sat for the execution is in the Armouries vaults.

As you walk along the wall towards the Lanthorn Tower it appears to be the best looking of the three towers, but the interior lacks the feel of the other two, and the reason for that is because it was re-built in the 19^th century. The original was built at the same time as the Wakefield Tower and became the King’s Chamber after the death of Edward I. It was gutted by fire in 1774 and then demolished.

The tour of the Medieval Palace should take around 30 minutes. Bear in mind that although the buildings are medieval in origin, some of them would have changed their appearance somewhat over the years. The reconstructed rooms are obviously recent, but are based on historical fact as much as humanly possible.

Nearby is the infamous Bloody Tower.

Built in the 1220s, this infamous tower was situated on the river’s edge and was the main river entrance into the castle. It was to be another 50 years before St. Thomas’s Tower and Traitor’s Gate took over this role.

When it was built, the lower chamber belonged to the Constable of the Tower who probably used it for accommodating high ranking guests. Later on, it was used to accommodate high ranking prisoners instead.

Eminent people like Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, Archbishop William Laud and Judge Jeffreys were all treated with respect and allowed to live in relative comfort while they were here.

For supposedly plotting against King James I, Sir Walter Raleigh found that the Bloody Tower was to be his home for the next 13 years (1603-1616), and both the lower and upper chambers now show what life would have been like for him during that time.

The most famous prisoners of all though were the two young sons of Edward IV who have gone down in history as the ‘Princes in the Tower’. Following his father’s death in 1483, 12 year old Edward was next in line to the throne, but his uncle, Richard Duke of Gloucester, took him and his 9 year old brother Richard to the tower for their own protection whilst preparations were made for the coronation. It wasn’t Edward that was crowned King though. It was dear old Uncle Richard, who became Richard III.

What happened in between is anyone’s guess, but what is clear is that the two boys were never seen again. Nobody has ever been able to prove, or disprove, that King Richard was complicit in their murder.

In 1674 the bodies of two children were found buried nearby and have been re-buried in Westminster Abbey as the two princes, but permission to have their bodies exhumed and tested by modern methods have so far been refused – and so the truth still remains a mystery – as it has done for the last 500 years.