Mrs Shipley Ellis and The Pantiles

In my previous blogpost I looked at the life and legacy of Edith Ball. The daughter of Canon Ball, she had followed his desire to provide care and support for the poor by creating The Haven, a scheme that had been applauded by none other than Octavia Hill! I thought I had discovered another building that she had helped to create, but it was part of the Co-op depot. But in my research I discovered that Edith wasn't the only person inspired by Canon Ball.  A new social housing project began in 1927 spearheaded by Mrs Shipley Ellis and I was curious as to who she was and what her link to Edith was, so I started to research her and came across a fascinating life story with some impressive legacies.

Hilda Anne Bristow was born in Fletton on 7 September 1873. She had been born into a wealthy family and lived in the manor house in Fletton in her early childhood years, the youngest of twelve children. Her father James was an auctioneer at the time of the 1881 census.

Map of Fletton Manor House from OS 25 Inch England and Wales Map via National Library of Scotland, www.maps.nls.uk

The 1891 census is the most illuminating and gives the fullest picture of Hilda’s childhood. By then Hilda was 17 and her mother Jane (née Lambert) had sadly passed away; she had died five years earlier when Hilda was only 12. Hilda was living at home with her sisters Edith and Ethel, as well as her father James and a couple of servants. They also had a visitor, a 16-year-old girl named Jenny (her surname is illegible), who was a scholar from Zwickau in Germany. My interest was instantly piqued and I immediately made a connection to Laurel Court School – was Hilda a pupil? I checked my database of the school pupils and confirmed that older sister Edith had been living at Laurel Court in the 1881 census. It looked incredibly likely that Hilda was home from school for the holidays and had invited her friend Jenny to join her.

By this point Hilda's father had founded a brickyard at Fletton and they were very well off. The only place fitting for the upwardly wealthy family was Fletton Towers, which is where they were captured in the 1891 census. The family did not live there for a particularly long time, her father and a few sisters having moved away together by the 1901 census. Hilda, however, stayed in the city along with several other siblings who had married, including Edith. In a beautiful snapshot of the Bristow sisters' lives, there was a description of the outfits they wore at Edith’s marriage to Thomas Corby Wilson in February 1894. Edith’s wedding dress was ‘a rich ivory moire silk dress’ and Hilda, along with her sisters Ethel and Minnie wore ‘heliotrope Bengaline silk dresses, trimmed with cream lace. They also wore black velvet picture hats.’ Ignoring the fact they would have been frozen in such thin material, they would have looked quite the picture in their silk dresses and large hats, and would have brought a touch of glamour to wintry Fletton. I include this fact to labour the point that these were a wealthy, glamourous family. It is also very unusual to find a description of clothing worn by the subject of such posts, so it adds an extra layer of detail to our understanding of Hilda and her family. Perhaps it was also that silk dress and black velvet hat that drew the eye of Hilda’s future husband…

1891 Census via Ancestry

Hilda married John Shipley Ellis (of Ellis and Everard) at the same church in 1896, aged 22. They went on to have three children: Margery, Jane, and Francis John.[i] In the 1901 census John, Hilda and Margery were living on London Road in Fletton in a house close to Saxon Villas. It was a road of impressive Victorian villas and having a residence there showed they were people of substance. John was labelled as a ‘Grain (coal) Merchant’ suggesting his primary income was from selling grain, but he was also providing coal. By the 1911 census the whole family were living in ‘Abbey Fields, The Park’ which was another select location to live: the address is now on Park Crescent. John was a coal company director, and they were also rich enough to afford a governess for their children. Hilda and John remained there for the rest of their lives and took a very active role in the life of the city including John becoming a city magistrate.

Hilda was known best for her philanthropy, which filled her married life. She helped to form Canon Ball’s ‘Guild of Help’ (see the Edith Ball blogpost) and was also involved with the Florence Saunders Nursing Association from the start, along with her husband (they were both present at the 60^th anniversary). I think it very likely that Hilda and Edith were friends and it's possible they were at Laurel Court together. It could have been this close friendship that led Hilda to engage in Edith’s father’s scheme and Edith’s aunt’s association. Newspaper accounts reveal that Canon Ball preached his social schemes to his congregation, but Hilda attended St Margaret's in Fletton and then St Mark's on Lincoln Road, so she must have been influenced by him personally. To remain devoted to the causes over decades strongly suggests a personal relationship with the extended Ball/Saunders family, a factor that would explain why she took up the baton on social housing after Canon Ball's death and Edith had left the city for Oxford.

The Pantiles. Author's photograph

In 1928 work began on The Pantiles, three two-storey blocks of flats that sit around a grassed courtyard at the bottom of All Saint’s Road. The flats were designed to provide comfortable homes for widows and unmarried women, of whom there were many after the Great War. Hilda had been the driving force behind the new homes through the National Council of Women branch in the city, of which she was president; she wanted to ‘mark her term of office with a practical achievement of definite social value’.[ii] Just like The Haven, the original plan was to build one block of four flats initially to gauge interest, and they were designed to be run as a self-supporting venture. By the December 1927 meeting of the NCW the plan was to build all three blocks at a cost of £200 and they had decided that the company overseeing the housing would be known as the ‘Pan-tiles Housing Association’, a company that Hilda would be the chairperson of until her death.[iii]

Each flat was lit by electricity (which was exciting!) and was going to contain ‘two bedrooms, sitting room, kitchenette, bathroom and lavatory,’ along with the use of a ‘coal bunker’ and gas too. These were a big improvement from the flats of The Haven and very modern in their style. In addition, the central courtyard and foyers were planned to be lit by an electric light all night, offering safety to the women as they came and went. This in itself is a remarkable detail; how many other buildings in the city have been designed specifically for the safety of women at night? Lighting entrances for safety is commonplace now, but there is a very good chance that this was the first and only building to consider the safety of women for many years. For anyone wondering who these forward-thinking architects were, they were Messrs Traylen, Lenton and Warwick.

The Pantiles. Author's photograph

The construction was quick and the first women had moved in by the beginning of June 1928. A comment piece known as Old Scarlet in the Peterborough Standard took a critical look at the new flats. Looking past the ‘half-grown grass and the unplanted flowerbeds’ he noted ‘it is obvious that the buildings will assume in their maturity a beauty and homeliness which is quite attractive’ – how many modern buildings can that be said about?![iv] Sadly, the correspondent could not resist making a dig at the homes for women declaring: ‘I hope the residents to be will live happily together so that when mere men do visit them in their Adamless Eden, they will find an example of harmony and content.’ Given that Mrs Shipley Ellis vetted every applicant and that a couple of the flats would be provided furnished for visiting lady teachers, I think we can safely assume that there were not the sort of fights that the correspondent had suggested. Hilda was not content with the building of the flats and remained devoted to the administration of the association for many years.

The Pantiles was not the only legacy that Mrs Shipley Ellis provided the city with. In 1945 she purchased an oak door for the cathedral in memory of her sisters Hannah, Martha, and Ethel.[v] It is interesting to note that this was during WW2. We saw similar memorials to women during WW1 at a time that grief was ever present but almost entirely (and understandably) directed at the horrendous loss of men fighting abroad. The grief of losing women at this time still hurt, so women with money and connections created memorials carefully, expressing their loss through quiet giving and discrete memorials. The oak door is in St Kyneburgha’s Chapel in front of a staircase. I’ve sadly been unable to find an image of the door (although there are lots of neighbouring St Oswald’s), so if anyone has an image and/or can confirm the door is still in place, do let me know.

Hilda was also treasurer of the local branch of the RNLI for many years, taking both secretary and treasurer roles in the early 1940s when need dictated. Lady Winfrey said of Hilda ‘much of the success of the branch is down to her untiring efforts.’[vi] She was also an enduring supporter of the Conservatives, being a founding member of the local women’s branch, of which she also became the treasurer. In addition, she was engaged with the Red Cross, most notably during the Great War. And it would be remiss of me not to mention the copious number of fetes, church functions and school events that she either opened, judged, or spoke at. She supported as many causes as she could and was always welcomed and appreciated for her hard work and kindness. Some of these she attended with her husband, and later her daughters, but many of them she supported in her own right as a wealthy and influential woman.

Hilda Shipley Ellis died on 1 May 1951 aged 77, her death being announced on the front page of the Peterborough Standard, such was her importance to the city.[vii] Her life and legacy was celebrated, along with her family history, and most touching of all, the article featured a photograph of her and her husband John, who had died in February, beaming at each other. at their 50th wedding anniversary. The couple had been married 55 years at the time of his death, which appears to have been the catalyst for her own demise. She became very ill after he died, being unable to attend his funeral at St Mark’s in March. She began to recover but a ‘seizure’ (potentially a stroke) caused her to relapse and die a few days later. A memorial was erected to the couple in St Mark’s church by their children in 1953. Margery Shipley Ellis, their eldest daughter, took on many of her parents’ roles, including becoming a magistrate, continuing the legacy that she inherited.

St Mark's Church. Author's photograph

The Pantiles still sit on the corner of Park Road and All Saints Road and are nearing their 100^th birthday. As you can see from the images, the 12 flats remain largely as they were built, which is testament to the forethought of the planners and architects. Next time you find yourself in the area do take a moment to admire the first social housing specifically for women and the ‘practical achievement of definite social value.’ There aren’t many people who can claim to have left such a legacy, and far fewer who were women! Perhaps this is another contender for a Blue Plaque?

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[i] The family surname was actually Ellis, so Hilda was occasionally known as Mrs Ellis. Shipley was the middle name for John and their children, but they incorporated it into their surname.

[ii] ‘Flats for Single Ladies’, Peterborough Standard, 22 July 1927, p.7.

[iii] ‘Mrs Shipley Ellis and Flats for Women’, Peterborough Standard, 9 December 1927, p.7, ‘Flats for Bachelor Ladies’, Peterborough Standard, 17 February 1928, p.12.

[iv] ‘Notes and Comments’, Peterborough Standard, 6 July 1928, p.6.

[v] ‘Oak Door for the Cathedral’, Peterborough Standard, 30 March 1945, p.1.

[vi] ‘Social and Personal Notes’, Peterborough Standard, 13 March 1942, p.4.

[vii] ‘Death of Mrs Shipley Ellis, a Great Social Worker’, Peterborough Standard, 4 May 1951, p.1.

 

Franziska Schmidt: Forgotten Laurel Court Teacher

 

I’ve spent the last few weeks exploring the women associated with Laurel Court School in the Cathedral Precincts and it has been a far more fruitful and interesting challenge than I first thought (more on that another day). The first names that pop into people’s heads when you mention the school there are Miss Margaret Gibson and Edith Cavell, but I wanted to get a fuller understanding of the school – surely they weren’t the only names worth recording?

What I have discovered is a loving family of pupils and teachers that existed there over 50 years. Miss Gibson led the school, but she did so with her partner Annette Van Dissel at her side and other teachers too.[i] Laurel Court was a sanctuary and a home to girls from right around the world during their education. I have set out to discover the lives of the girls and teachers who attended the school, which has not been easy, but thanks to census records, newspaper records and a few family trees, I’ve discovered a number of interesting women.

For this blogpost I am looking at the life of teacher Franziska Schmidt. Franziska was born in Potsdam, Germany in 1849 but spent most of her life in Peterborough. Franziska taught at Laurel Court School with Margaret and Annette; she arrived at the school around 1875, four years after the school had been taken over by them and she worked initially as a governess. She was only 26 when she arrived, but she must have loved it there because she remained for the next 40 years!

Whereas Margaret and Annette shared financial and practical responsibilities for running the school (they were joint ‘Head’ in the censuses), Franziska remained a loyal teacher, a third in command, should the need arise. Her native German tongue helped many girls to excel in the language exams and saw many of her pupils travel over to Europe to work, to make the most of their skills.

Margaret, Annette and Franziska lived and taught together happily for the next 35 years. By the 1910s the three women were reaching the age that many women would be retiring but they continued happily with the school. That was until April 1914 when Annette died at the age of 73. Her death was a deep blow to the happy school, but her death was only the start of issues for the school. The Great War began only a few months after Annette’s death and anti-German rhetoric was understandably rife in the city. For a small girls’ school that specialised in teaching French and German, the residents of Laurel Court must have been feeling on edge. Anti-German sentiment was particularly strong at the start of the war and local papers recorded the bubbling up of rumours that the well-known German butchers the Franks had expressed anti-British sentiments. Matters grew over a few days, resulting in the Westgate riots in August 1914, when locals attacked the businesses owned and run by the Franks and other Germans. We refer to them as the Westgate riots because that was the location of the Franks’ butchers, but the mob caused damage to other premises on Long Causeway, just outside the Cathedral Precincts, and set off past the Cathedral gates to Fletton Avenue where the Franks lived.

Franziska would not have been safe from the taunts of angry Peterborians if she stepped outside the precincts and we cannot rule out the possibility that the school was also a target of hatred. Despite this, she remained at the school, continuing as best she could whilst reading stories of how her fellow naturalised countrymen were being rounded up and detained or deported, fearing every day that she would be next. Businesses were removed from their German owners, and we must consider that that Laurel Court was not immune to an official knock at the door to identify German citizens and ascertain they did have any saleable or removable assets.

By August 1915 Franziska Schmidt felt she had no choice but to leave Peterborough and return to Germany. We know she left then because it was announced in the paper, recording her 40 years of teaching, and stating clearly that she was returning to Germany to live with her sister for the length of the war. It stressed: ‘This was not a deportation but a voluntary act on the part of Miss Schmidt.’[ii] The statement and language used strongly suggests that she had been the victim of harassment and xenophobia despite her dedicated work educating girls in the city, and that her departure was a sacrifice for the good of the school.

Prior to the war her name had appeared in the papers a few times in 1914 as she attended several weddings and the New Year party at the Angel Hotel, showing that she was very much part of the city. One unusual piece of information we have is that a Miss Armstrong from Boston, Lincolnshire, had been staying with Franziska’s sister in Hanover before getting help to escape back to England by December 1914, so there would at least have been a room for Franziska there on her return. It also suggests that even though Franziska had taught at Laurel Court for 40 years, she was still in regular contact with her home, and her sister potentially helped girls to find work in Germany.

At the time of her departure Franziska had lost her two closest friends and confidantes and was herself nearly 66 years old. To add to her distress only one month after she left the school one of her pupils, Edith Cavell, was executed by German firing squad. She had returned to her home country to discover that her fellow men had killed a pupil she had both educated and taught alongside.

It isn’t known what happened to Franziska after she left Peterborough, but she never returned to teach with Miss Gibson after the war. We can only hope that she lived the war out quietly with her sister, but it seems rather unlikely. She had dedicated the greatest part of her life to education in Peterborough, yet due to the war she was all but written out of the history of the school. Hopefully, this blogpost will start the conversation again.

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[i] Were they more than business partners? It’s a very interesting question. They crossed Europe to move to a country where no one knew them. They were joint ‘Head’ of the household in Census records. They raised children together (the Kirkby children for example) as a family unit and stayed together until death parted them. At the very least they were utterly devoted friends. Most people can only dream of living their life with their best friend, so either way, they win. I hope they did love each other – they certainly inspired it in others.

[ii] Peterborough Express, 4 August 1915, p.2.

Image of Laurel Court by Mat Fascione via Geograph

Image of an angel sculpture in Potsdam by Birgit P via Pixabay

Was Peterborough Museum Building Built in 1816?

 

The building that Peterborough Museum building sits in is one of the most impressive buildings in Peterborough. Tucked away on Priestgate it might not have the setting that other mansions like Thorpe Hall or Ufford Manor do, but when it was built it was one of the most desirable street to live on in Peterborough.

If you read any information about the history of the building you will know that it was built in 1816. This is never disputed because there is seemingly insurmountable proof in a datestone on the building. You will also know that the building was built by Thomas Alderson Cooke (for it his initials are on the datestone) and completed only months before the tragic death of his beloved wife Judith. I believe most of this is wrong and aim to explain why in this blogpost.

Let’s start with the datestone. Imagine for a moment that you are Thomas Alderson Cooke and have spent a ridiculous amount of money on building a huge mansion – a building that would be a legacy of your brilliance and wealth. Where would you put your datestone? How are people from generations in the future going to know that you were entirely responsible for this expansive mansion? You’d put it where people can see it on the front of the building. Think back to every single datestone you’ve seen on a domestic building, and you will realise that every single one is on the front (or in a very prominent position), where it can be seen and where visitors and passers-by can marvel at your brilliance. So where would you expect to see Thomas’ date stone? Probably not at ground level on the side of the building near the entrance to a cellar, but that’s exactly where it is. In that position the only people who would ever have seen it would be tradesmen calling at the servants’ door or his own staff. Hardly the trumpet call people might think it is.

A clue to the purpose of the datestone, I believe, is evident in the two extensions to the building in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Both extensions have large explanations about when they were erected and who erected them. You can see another example of this at Miss Pear’s Almshouses (see my other blogpost on that). She donated money in her will to pay for an extension to existing almshouses in her will of 1901, with the extension built in 1903. Most people (including the official Historic England listing) have apparently ignored the 1835 datestone above the original door and the (now horribly disfigured) plaque. Additionally, on the western side of the cathedral gatehouse at the top is the date 1952 but thankfully nobody has attempted to suggest it was built then!

The datestone sits close to the entrance to the cellars and I believe was created to commemorate Thomas Cooke’s renovation of them. We know he was a keen drinker and liked to entertain, so having a large wine cellar, meat store and coal cellar would have been essential. The cellar was once the ground level of an earlier house of possibly medieval origins (based on some architectural features recently identified) and the present vaulted ceilings cut in to those walls and windows. Evidence of a blocked-up entrance to the cellars from inside the house (in an area not open to the public) suggests that this was the original entrance before they were renovated (retrofitted?!), giving further strength to the argument that the new outside entrance was significant enough to warrant dating. The very specific dating of the work (20th July) also suggests it was a smaller job that was completed rather than the building of a house.

The date stone is located behind the tree at the very bottom of the wall and is impossible to see without standing over it.

Next, there was a belief that the building there before Thomas Alderson Cooke supposedly built his one in 1816 was the ancient and decaying Orme house. The Ormes definitely lived in a large house on Priestgate from the early 17th century (not the 16^th) and still owned the house and land at the start of the 19^th century, but the house was far from decaying.

I believe they had rebuilt their house in the 18th century and it had the distinctive T-shape floor plan that largely remains today. Speede’s Map of 1611 shows the older, Orme house on the site, but by 1721 the T-shape of the present building is present on a map (below). The image of the house captured on the Prospect of Peterborough from 1731 appears to agree with the same shape, although the features of the house (roofline and windows) do not match up with the current building. The present building does sit on the footprint of the earlier building, at least at the front, because the cellars roughly match up with the outer walls above. Its distinctive T-shape is without the curved south aspect in the 1721 map (and the Prospect shows no rear end to the building at all!), but it’s very likely that this was a later addition. The thickness of the walls, which can be seen at the  doors to the curved southern rooms, strongly suggests it was originally an external wall. You can also see that the image in the Prospect shows a house made of five bays, which is still what it is now. Following the fire that destroyed the upper floors of the house there is no evidence to show if the five gable-end windows at the top of the building were adapted for a more fashionable style, or if they were from an earlier building. The architectural style of the house does appear to be Palladian and avoids the use of some of the typical Regency features such as stucco that you might expect from a house built in 1816.

                                                   

                                                                The house in 1721

If my suspicions are correct about the building, then it could push back the date of the present museum building by around 100 years and make it even more significant than it already is. What I am still looking for is other evidence to back up my theories; a reference to a newly built house in an Orme will, for example, or an itemisation of building works carried out for Thomas Cooke.

My third point relates to recently discovered documents. I was delighted to meet some of Thomas Alderson Cooke’s descendants a few years ago. They had inherited a raft of items from their family and wanted to share them to gain more understanding of their family history, which luckily, I’d been researching for some time. What I saw provided the best evidence that the Cookes had lived in the present building long before 1816. One document proved a vital link between the Cookes and the Ormes and showed that the Cookes occupied the house in 1811. Why would a very wealthy man live in the decaying ruins of the Orme house? Put simply: he wouldn’t. Cooke was trying to make a name for himself in the city and put himself on an equal footing to the likes of the Squires family, so it was important for him to live in the best house in the city, even if he had to rent it.

Walden Orme had been the Orme heir but he sadly died intestate after falling out of a small boat that he was sailing on a pond in Edith Weston in 1809. There were, of course, some legal wranglings around the Orme estate after his death which continued for several years, resulting, I believe, in the eventual selling of the Priestgate house by the Orme family. Thomas bought it and started to put his own stamp on the property, including renovating the cellars.

Another delight I was able to view was a sketch of the back of the house and part of the garden. It had been drawn in pencil and was signed J Cooke. The signature meant it could only have been drawn by Judith or eldest daughter Julia. Judith died in 1817 and Julia married William Walcot Squire (see other blogpost) in 1818, so if the house was built in 1816, as stated, there’s no more than a two year period in which the picture could have been drawn. What is interesting to note then, is that the curved southern end of the building had a scattering of tall trees close to it, items so close that they would certainly have been felled in order to build a new house.

            A modern view of the curved southern end of the museum building

What is missing here are documents showing exactly when the house was built, or when the cellars were remodelled. There is a document hiding in the museum archives detailing work that was carried out by Johnsons builders for Thomas in 1816. I believe they will show that he carried out work on the cellars, but the documents are hidden in a sea of other documents and are currently unavailable to view.

There is a lot more information I could add about changes to the building over time, a likely re-fronting of the house, the use of different stones to build the house (there’s some beautiful rubble walling at the eastern back of the house that is completely different to the ashlar at the front and may be from an earlier building) and changes to the front of the house using the same stone that was used to build the house next door in 1844 (a story for another day).

I am aware that these points raise as many questions as they solve, but history and historical interpretation changes as new evidence is found. I hope one day to have enough information to tie down exactly when the house was first built and what was altered when. For now, I am suggesting that the 1816 date relates entirely to the remodelling of the cellars and that the house is around 100 years older than has been stated. As and when new information comes to light, I will be happy to add to it, and I'm still open to the idea that I might yet be wrong! My concluding note is to always question date stones; ask what they’re commemorating and why they were placed where they were. Sometimes they’re just for the benefit of the butler!

Image of Peterborough Museum by David P Howard via Geograph and the southern and eastern views by Geographer via Geograph. Image of gatehouse datestone authors own.

The Oldest Buildings in Peterborough: Part One

Updated. This blogpost started with the destruction of a tree in Peterborough. A 600-year-old oak that would have been part of the ancient woodland of Grimeshaw Wood was chopped down by the council due to a perceived cost of repairing modern houses built too close to the tree. In short, it was cheaper to cut down a 600-year-old habitat than fix a modern house, so the tree had to go.

I was horrified by the decision and knew that should this have been a historic building, the scene would have looked very different indeed. I knew that St John’s church in the middle of Peterborough was built in 1402 and was therefore a similar age. In contrast to the tree being removed, the church benefitted from recent improvements to increase its visibility and the addition of green spaces (there were trees in planters, but they weren’t replaced when they died); the church is also grade I listed. To so carefully  curate a space around an old building is of course a wonderful thing, but to treat a living item of the same age as an annoyance and see only the expense in potential damage (when the church must cost a lot of money to maintain every year) is short-sighted at the very least. The sooner we can apply similar listed status to trees – the current tree protection orders are no better than the paper they’re written on – and respect them with the same integrity we do buildings, the better.

This led me to wonder what other buildings are the same age as the oak and how it fitted into the history of the area, so I set about making a list of the ages of local buildings. I realised very early on that for the task to be manageable I would need to reduce the date parameters for the task, so all of the buildings included in the list are pre-1700. This date ensures that only the oldest buildings are included, and they should (should!) be listed.

One of the issues with creating a list of buildings by date is that many of the buildings are mixtures of dates, having been rebuilt, added to, or adjusted. I therefore had to decide whether the building be dated based on one feature retained in it, or a significant amount of the structure? For example, St Augustine’s Church in Woodston features a Saxon wall and window with a handful of medieval features, but is largely a Victorian rebuild – should that be included?

I decided that for the building to be included it would need to contain a substantial structural element from before 1700. This could be part of the building e.g. a chancel or a hidden core and I would take my lead from the building’s listing. Some of the building dates are therefore supplemented with probably or possibly. That said, I expect the list to change as further information is gained. Buildings can move up or down the list as they are inspected, dendrodated, or researched; some might move onto it and some might fall off it. One of these buildings is Peterborough Museum. The building appears to be Georgian (pre-1816) but the core of the building is potentially older and some of the features in the cellar appear to be medieval. For now, I am leaving it out of the listing, with the understanding that if research, dendro, etc reveals otherwise, then I’ll add it in.

It is absolutely no surprise to anyone that the oldest buildings in the area are churches and ecclesiastic buildings. Centuries of devotion (and money) have ensured their survival and their listed status should (hopefully) support their continued survival. For ease, I have separated out religious and domestic buildings into two lists and this post will focus on religious buildings. The list revealed something I hadn’t appreciated before: the oldest and youngest churches (pre-1700) are both St John the Baptist! Location is key here; the oldest is St John’s Barnack and the youngest is St John’s Peterborough. Saxon elements are an integral part of the structure of St John’s Barnack, which also feature in second place All Saints’ Wittering. Third in the list is St Mary Wansford and fourth is St Mary and St Botolph in Thorney; all four have been used for worship for over a thousand years, which is quite incredible.

Peterborough Cathedral has ended up in 8th place behind three churches built in the Norman period. It is likely that this is the wrong location given that there were ten churches built in the Norman period or 12th century, and it doesn't take into account the first Saxon church on the cathedral site. Further research may help to narrow down the building dates of the churches and I expect the placing of these churches to change. Having a list of buildings means that conversations can be had, and experts can add their voices. It might also encourage people to go out and visit the churches to see what they can discover, for some of them contain research by locals in guidebooks and noticeboards inside the buildings (as well as the fascinating architecture) and that information can help guide the list too.

I’m going to write another blog on the domestic buildings because this is very long, so here’s the list of churches.

Church                                            Location                                        Date

St John the Baptist	Barnack	Saxon 1020
All Saints	Wittering	Saxon (and 12-14th)
St Mary	Wansford	Early Norman
St Mary and St Botolph	Thorney	1085-1108 (1638)
St Botolph	Helpston	Norman
St Kyneburgha	Castor	Norman
St Peter	Maxey	Norman
Cathedral Church of St Peter, St Paul, and St Andrew	Peterborough	1118
St John	Stanground	1150 (and 1300)
St John	Upton	12th (17th)
St Michael	Sutton	12th (15th and 19th)
St Benedict	Glinton	12th
St Pega	Peakirk	12th
St Mary	Marholm	12th and 13th
St Andrew	Northborough	Late 12th /early 13th
St John	Werrington	12th/13th
All Saints	Paston	1220
St Botolph	Longthorpe	1250
St Stephen	Etton	13th
Holy Trinity	Orton Longueville	1275
St Mary	Ufford	Late 13th
St Mary	Orton Wistow	Late 13th
St Margaret	Fletton	1300
St John the Baptist	Peterborough	1402

Note* most of these churches have a range of additions and alterations and straddle many time periods

Update. Having visited St John's Barnack, information inside the church states it dates from 1020. This doesn't change its position as the oldest building in the Peterborough area but it does provide a crucial date that can be compared to other buildings. An upcoming visit to All Saints Wittering may yet change that top position...