spook // issue seven // colchester

A visit to Britain's first city.

A short train ride from Liverpool Street Station put Rosa and me in deepest Essex. Colchester rose up on its gravel hill, crowned with a Norman castle. And intermittent signs with an elephant led us into the town centre.

A bulky instant film camera was witness to the curious antiquities we found.

Even now the city is defined by its Roman origins. The ancient wall still stands in spots. It was built as posthumous protection against Boudicca, who had already burnt down the town and moved on to Londinium.

17th Century houses lean out at odd angles.

A Victorian water tower, named ‘Jumbo’, hence the pachydermatic navigation, looms up, a beacon to right yourself amongst the little alleyways and courtyards.

On the south side is the skeleton of St Boltoph’s Priory. It fell victim to Henry VIII’s spat with Rome’s ideas on marriage and later went up in flames during the Second Civil War. The Royalists refused to open the city gates when the Parliamentarians came a’calling and much was burnt in the ensuing eleven-week carnage.

Even after the fire, the grounds of the Priory were used as burial space until the mid-1800’s.

We saved the Castle for last, as the website states, ‘The museum is typically quieter in the afternoons, particularly after 2:30pm on weekdays once school groups have left.’ We arrived on the dot and were happy to watch regimental lines of small people file out past the gift shop.

Inside the Castle we found the oldest bronze cauldron in Britain, Roman mosaic floors, hordes of coins, medieval paintings and wooden sculptures of fat, ruddy faced monks.

And just before leaving, Rosa ducked down a hidden corridor. Rushing back to me, she waved me along to the ancient goal, where Matthew Hopkins, the notorious witch-finder general (later played by Vincent Price), interrogated and tortured innocent women.

We ended the day in one of Colchester’s oldest pubs, where a pair of stocks was displayed, ‘for unruly patrons’.