Journal articles on the topic 'Building stones – England – Lancashire'

The Lancashire Independent College in Whalley Range, Manchester (1839-43), was built to train Congregational ministers. As the first of a number of Nonconformist educational institutions in the area, it illustrates Manchester‘s importance as a centre of higher education generally and Nonconformist education in particular. The building was designed by John Gould Irwin in Gothic style, mediated through references to All Souls College in Oxford by Nicholas Hawksmoor, whose architecture also inspired Irwins Theatre Royal in Manchester (1845). The College was later extended by Alfred Waterhouse, reflecting the growing success of the institution, which forged links with Owens College and went on to contribute, with other ministerial training colleges, to the Universitys Faculty of Theology established in 1904. The building illustrates an interesting strand in early nineteenth-century architectural style by a little-known architect, and has an important place in the history of higher education in north-west England.

This article describes the use of glass-reinforced polyester (GRP) in Preston Bus Station in Lancashire, England, designed by Building Design Partnership (BDP) and completed in 1969. GRP was used both for concrete moulds that play a key role in enabling the construction of the building’s distinctive elevation, and for kiosks, signage and smaller fittings. A survey of articles shows that the use of GRP for concrete moulds enabled innovative and efficient construction and this practice continues to date. Some smaller fittings in GRP which were expected to be durable and maintenance-free have been modified, damaged, or removed, yet, others survive and are in a good condition. The legacy of the car park pay kiosks was to last as a prototype for a prefabricated sectional building system.

The stonework at three well-known Scottish ecclesiastical buildings has been examined in detail. In each, the orientation of the bedding layers in individual stones in certain quoins and arch jambs, and in two instances the wall faces, indicate when these buildings were first erected. In England, the period of construction would have been described as Anglo-Saxon; in this paper the work is referred to as being of 'Patterned' style. On this evidence each building is ascribed to a particularly early origin.

In the period 1970–85, tree-ring research in Europe had resulted in the production of long oak chronologies for both Ireland and Germany going back over 7000 years (e.g. Brown et al. 1986; Leuschner & Delorme 1984). In England, there was a network of regional chronologies covering the historic period, and almost no chronological coverage for the prehistoric. For the archaeologist this meant that, provided a site from the historic period produced a replicated site chronology, the chances of dating by dendrochronology were very high. The chances of this happening for a prehistoric site were poor by comparison, although some sites were successfully dated, for example the Iron Age causeway from Fiskerton in Liricolnshire and the Hasholme log boat found in North Humberside (Hillam 1987).The period 1985–88 saw an intense effort to outline a prehistoric oak tree-ring chronology in England (Baillie & Brown 1988). This work centred on sub-fossil oaks from East Anglia and Lancashire and built on a previous chronology from Swan Carr, near Durham which spanned 1155–381 BC (Baillie et al. 1983). The approach to chronology-building was to produce wellreplicated chronology units which could be located precisely in time against the existing Irish (Pilcher et al. 1984) and North German (Leuschner & Delorme 1984) chronologies.

Were the relationships between streets, homes, and groups inhabiting them wholly accidental and of short duration, then men might tear down their homes, district, and city, only to rebuild another on the same site according to a different set of plans. But even if stones are moveable, relationships established between stones and men are not so easily altered.(Halbwachs 1980, p. 133)As you approach contemporary İzmir from the bay, the city that lies ahead of you invokes images of a fortress city. It is enveloped by an unbroken concrete wall made up of tall apartment buildings, one morphing into the other, only to be interrupted by narrow streets. Republic Square, located at the very tip of the bay, resembles a gate to this immense fortress. If you walk half a kilometer eastward through this opening, you will arrive at a large green space at the heart of the city, quite unusual for, modern cities in Turkey. This is the Kültürpark, where İzmirians go to jog, play tennis, have their wedding ceremonies, take their children to play, and watch theatrical and musical performances. Its trees and flower gardens infuse life in a city that has fallen prey to the invasion of concrete as a result of unplanned over-urbanization. Toward the end of each summer, the park becomes even livelier with the opening of the annual Izmir International Fair on the grounds. The Fair attracts some four million visitors every year, and even though the majority are İzmirians, people from other parts of Turkey also flock to İzmir to view the pavilions of Japan, China, U.S.A., and England, as well as those showcasing Turkey’s national firms (Fuar Kataloğu 2000).

ObjectivesThe growth of COVID-19 infections in England raises questions about system vulnerability. Several factors that vary across geographies, such as age, existing disease prevalence, medical resource availability and deprivation, can trigger adverse effects on the National Health System during a pandemic. In this paper, we present data on these factors and combine them to create an index to show which areas are more exposed. This technique can help policy makers to moderate the impact of similar pandemics.DesignWe combine several sources of data, which describe specific risk factors linked with the outbreak of a respiratory pathogen, that could leave local areas vulnerable to the harmful consequences of large-scale outbreaks of contagious diseases. We combine these measures to generate an index of community-level vulnerability.Setting91 Clinical Commissioning Groups (CCGs) in England.Main outcome measuresWe merge 15 measures spatially to generate an index of community-level vulnerability. These measures cover prevalence rates of high-risk diseases; proxies for the at-risk population density; availability of staff and quality of healthcare facilities.ResultsWe find that 80% of CCGs that score in the highest quartile of vulnerability are located in the North of England (24 out of 30). Here, vulnerability stems from a faster rate of population ageing and from the widespread presence of underlying at-risk diseases. These same areas, especially the North-East Coast areas of Lancashire, also appear vulnerable to adverse shocks to healthcare supply due to tighter labour markets for healthcare personnel. Importantly, our index correlates with a measure of social deprivation, indicating that these communities suffer from long-standing lack of economic opportunities and are characterised by low public and private resource endowments.ConclusionsEvidence-based policy is crucial to mitigate the health impact of pandemics such as COVID-19. While current attention focuses on curbing rates of contagion, we introduce a vulnerability index combining data that can help policy makers identify the most vulnerable communities. We find that this index is positively correlated with COVID-19 deaths and it can thus be used to guide targeted capacity building. These results suggest that a stronger focus on deprived and vulnerable communities is needed to tackle future threats from emerging and re-emerging infectious disease.

Ramps and scaffoldsThe lifting of large stones during antiquityUntil well into the 18th century, many scholars thought that megaliths were erected by giants. Less supernatural theories did not occur in print until the 19th century. One of these was expressed in a small pamphlet from 1857, “On the Building Manner of the Passage Graves of the Antiquity”, written by the Danish King Frederik the Seventh. Earlier (1853), the king had been convinced that first the capstones had been placed on a mound and then the uprights had been placed in holes dug out under the capstone (fig. 7). When all uprights were in place, the remaining earth was removed. This so-called mound theory is almost completely forgotten, but it surfaced sporadically in the 20th century, last when J. Osenton was reconstructing dolmens in the Cotswold Hill Quarry by Cheltenham in England in 1996-97.In 1857, Frederik the Seventh put forward the ramp theory, according to which the capstone is pulled up on a ramp to the already finished chamber (fig. 7-8). According to Frederik the Seventh’s proposal, the ramp was built from earth lengthwise covered with timber, on top of which the capstone would have been pulled up on rolls.However, the king had not invented this theory. It was known in Scandinavia and Holland already around 1800. In 1815, N. Westendorf in Holland suggested the use of earth ramps, and the following years the Dutch developed the ramp theory further.Both the early Dutch antiquarians and others referred to the fact that from the 16th to the 19th century (after the Spanish conquest), Inca workers in Peru, when erecting large buildings, used earth ramps for pulling large stones in place. During their golden age (1300-l500 AD), the Incas were masters in building with large stones that weighed up to well over 200 metric tons. Perhaps the know ledge of Inca earth ramps inspired the early European antiquarians to suggest that the megaliths had also been pulled in place by the use of ramps.In 1983, an experiment was carried out in Skånes Djurpark (Scania’s Animal Park) under G. Burenhuldt’s supervision: the building of a long barrow. The capstone was mounted on a wooden sledge and pulled in place using a rope and a 16-m long earth ramp covered with timber lengthwise (fig. 9). The gradient of the ramp was 5 degrees. It took fourteen men a mere twelve seconds to pull op the capstone.In Indonesia, the use of wooden ramps for pulling up grave capstones is well known. Such a situation was docu mented in 1910, when four hundred people pulled the stone in place without the use of rolls (fig. 10-11). In Holland, postholes suggesting the use of a similar method have been found in connection with some megalith graves (fig. 12).When using the scaffold method, one end of the stone is lifted using one or more levers while timber is being pushed under the stone. Then the other end is lifted and timber pushed underneath. The stone is then lifted again, and timber is pushed under in the opposite direction of the previous layer of timber – and so forth, until the stone has reached the planned height (fig. 13-14). The stone is lifted up on a steadily growing scaffold, so to speak. When the lever is high up, ropes are attached to it for pulling. This method was used in Denmark during the 19th century, when the National Museum was placing capstones that had fallen from their original position back onto the megalith graves. In 1897, the Danish archaeologist Sophus Müller suggested that the capstones of the megalith graves had origin ally been positioned in this way. In 1979, J.P. Mohen initiated an experiment in Bougon, France, involving the lifting of a 32-tons copy of a capstone (fig. 15).The lifting was carried out using three levers, each operated by twenty men. By pushing timber under the stone, it was easily lifted one meter. During the same experiment, twenty men easily lifted the stone using a single lever. In 1994, in Ramioul in Belgium, the scaffold method was also used for placing a capston e on a newly built alleé couverte. In Cotswold’s Hill Quarry, England, J. Osenton built three dolmens in 1996-97. A five-ton capstone was lifted one meter by two persons, one using a 3.5-meter long lever, the other pushing timber underneath.Levers are thus very effective, as heavy loads may be lifted using small effort. According to the lever principle, Kl x L1 = K2 x L2, where L1 and L2 are the long and short arm (divided by the fulcrum) respectively, Kl is the force used for pulling, and K2 is the force, which in combination with L2 has an effect on the stone itself. If using a completely regular stone, like an over-sized brick, it will be merely half of the stone’s weight that is lifted, as its edge is resting on the support. However, as the stones are usually irregular, the lifted weight in the following calculations is estimated to be 60% of the total weight.At Cotswold Hill Quarry, the relation between effort and load was 1:100, hence, one man had to pull with a mere power of 30 kg in order to lift the heavy stone. At Bou­gon, each of the 60 persons had to pull with a force of 32 kilos, if the relation was 1:10, in order to lift the 32-tons block. A capstone in the Spanish passage grave Cueva de Menga weighs 180 metric tons. It could be lifted by 72 men each pulling 50 kg, if the relation was 1:30.It appears that capstones may be easily lifted using a scaffold. When the stones reached the level of the top of the uprights, they could be pulled in over the chamber. At the experiment at Ramioul, Poissonier and Collin used a method in spired by the transportation of stones in a quarry. In the ends of the round timber just under the stone were drilled holes, in which sticks were placed. When the sticks were turned, the stones could be rolled in position over the chamber (fig. 16 ). The use of Stone’s A-frame, which will be mentioned later, would have been very effective indeed, even when very large stones had to be moved from the scaffold onto the chamber.At Stonehenge, the large sarsen stones were erected 2400 BC towards the end of the late Stone Age (fig. 17). The lintels of the large circle weigh approximately seven tons and are positioned at 4.3 meters above the earth. In the middle of the circle is the “horse shoe” consisting of five thrilitons (a thriliton is a pair of uprights carrying a lintel). These lintels weigh up to 16.5 metric tons and are raised seven meters above ground level.In 1924, the engineer E.H. Stone suggested that the lintels had been pulled up an earth ramp that had been so large that it had a platform on top. Here the final adjustment of the lintel could take place using levers.In 1935, another – simpler – technique, the scaffold method, was suggested by colonel R.H. Cunnington. The engineer C.A. Gauld later developed his idea further. He advocated the use of a rather complicated scaffold, which completely surrounded the uprights (fig. 19).In 1991, the engineer P. Pavel carried out an experiment by Strakonice in the Czech Republic (fig. 20). A copy of two uprights in the Stonehenge circle had been erected, and a lintel was to be put in position. The height was 3.5 meters, and the lintel weighed five metric tons. The procedure was surprisingly simple. Using levers and ropes, the stone was pulled up a ramp made from two heavy stems. The pulling was done in 30-cm tugs, and behind the lintel was a“brake rod”, which was moved along to prevent th e stone from sliding down. The levers were of spruce, 4.5 m long and 25 cm in diameter. The ropes were 3 cm thick. The stone was pulled up in three days by ten men.In 1994, M. Whitby was carryin g out experiments near Stonehenge. They included the placin g of lintels using both ramp and scaffold. For this purpose, concrete copies of two uprights and a lintel had been made. The lintel weighed ten metric tons and had to be lifted seven meters. First, it was lifted using the scaffold method. As this went easily, and it was obvious that it could be easily lifted in place, the experiment was called off The scaffold was a simple one, which did not surround the uprights. The lintel was pulled up a metal ramp, which served as an earth ramp. On the surface, the ramp had three tracks of timber lengthwise, and 90 people pulled up the stone in three ho urs. T he pu llin g was don e usin g an A-frame, which works as anupright lever (fig. 21). E.H. Stone had suggested this method in 1924 when the uprights were erected (fig. 22). Whitby’s experiment had the special point that the timber on the ramp surface was separated at the top, so that it would tip with the stone when it reached the top.One or the other? A ramp or a scaffold? The huge disadvantage of the earth ramp is that it would have taken a very long time to both build it and remove it. It would be faster and easier to use Pavel’s wooden ramp, strengthened and supported by timber and then pull up the stone either using Pavel’s method or an A-frame. Finally, there is the scaffold method, which Whitby and Richards found very rewarding. However, this method seems too simple and undramatic as opposed to the ramps. At any rate, many scholars have become obsessed by the ramps and will not consider the scaffold as an alternative. The theories of how Egypt’s large pyramids were erected are a fine example of this.The Great Pyramid was build for the Pharaoh Cheops, who died around 2580 BC. It is an impressive monument, which was originally 146.5 meters high, with each side measuring 230 meters. It was built from 2.300.000 box-shaped stones, each weighing approximately 2.5 metric tons or less.How the Egyptian pyramids were built is still a matter of speculation. The many suggested methods can be divided into two groups: ramps or gradual raising using levers (the scaffold method). The ramp method is preferred by most, but the shape of the ramps remains a mystery (fig. 23). Ramps have been found next to some very small and unfinished pyramids, but they were less than seven meters high. These ramps were made from limestone rubble, sand, gypsum, and clay. It seems obvious that ramps may have been used for the building of small pyramids and for the lower parts of larger pyramids. However, in the case of the great pyramids, the ramps would gradually become very steep and very long, or both, when the pyramid rose upwards.In his book, “The Complete Pyramids” (1997), Mark Lehner, one of the leading pyramid scholars, strongly advocates the ramp theory. In 1996, he took part in the building of a 6-m high pyramid “to test some of the current theories of armchair pyramid builders and try out ancient theories”. The small pyramid was built using a ramp. The scaffold method was also tested for the raising of a stone weighing two metric tons. The experiment was unsuccessful and therefore dismissed. However, elementary mistakes were made, as for instance using boards stacked in layers as a substitute for heavy timber.In spite of this, there are in fact numerous advantages of lifting the stones step by step. For instance,several teams can work simultaneously on each step; the distance is shorter; there is no long return with an empty sledge; and huge ramps do not have to be built and removed again .When Herodotus visited The Great Pyramid around 440 BC, he was told that it had been built by lifting the stones step- by-step using special devices (mechania). This information was omitted in “The Complete Pyramids”.The method used for building a large pyramid could have been a combination of the two techniques. Ramps were used at first, until they became too large or steep or both, then stones were lifted step- by-step using levers. This change may well have taken place at a height of 50 meters, when 72% of the stone mass was already in place. Also, the use of ramps and scaffolds does not have to be an either/or. Perhaps both methods were used.The heavy bluestones at Stonehenge, each weighing between 3 and 4 metric tons, were quarried in antiquity in the Preseli Mountains in Wales. The 80 bluestones were transported more than 350 km across land and water. In 2000, a group of volunteers wanted to repeat this great achievement of the past by transporting a 3-ton stone along the same route. The project, called The Millenium Stone, was a total failure and had to be given up. The participants met too many obstacles on the way and had to use modern techniques; the stone was transported far shorter distances a day than expected; a crane had to be used for lifting the stone on to a vessel, which later sank in 17 meters of water. One important reason for the poor out come was not just the lack of technical skills, but also lack of planning, expertise, and motivation among the participants. These factors are indeed the prerequi site for a successful implementation, in the past as well as now.The experiments at Bougon, Cotswold, and Strakonice showed that a few people were able to lift the stones. However, in the antiquity this would have taken place at community events, which gathered huge crowds. This was certainly the case when dolmens were built in Indonesia in modern time. Here, the presence of many people gave prestige to the organizers, who in return demonstrated their wealth and hospitality by throwing large parties where the guests were lavishly entertained. For both organizers and participants these occasions offered the possibility of making or renewing agreements and alliances.One of the many reasons behind the erection of the megalith graves was its stabilizing effect on society. The megalith builders would have been highly motivated and very determined, as the balance of their social and spiritual universe depended on a successful completion of the work with the huge stones. The muscle power of hundreds of men is not enough; it also takes a foreman with ingenuity, coordination and determination (fig. 24). The foremen of the English archaeologist, C.L. Woolley, were good at moving large stones. Once, Woolley showed his foreman, the Arab Hamoudi, the large stone, measuring 21.5 x 4.3 x 4.2 meters, which during the first century AD was placed at seven meter’s height in the wall of Acropolis in Baalbek in Syria. “He sat in silence, looking at it for perhaps twenty minutes, and then rose to his feet.‘I must go away,᾿ he said,‘my head aches᾿; and as he went, I heard him murmur: ‘By Allah, what a foreman!᾽”In this context, Woolley mentions that at his time (1953), such a stone could not be lifted that high by machines, but that the people of the antiquity were able to do it because they lacked machines!Palle EriksenRingkøbing MuseumTranslated by Annette Lerche Trolle

The Ormslev Dolmen – a free-standing dolmen?Free-standing dolmens in the Funnel Beaker CultureThe Ormslev dolmen – which has the appearance of a free-standing dolmen – is situated near Ormslev Stationsby, west of Aarhus in Jutland (fig. 1). The chamber was excavated for the first time around 1870. In 1975 a second excavation was carried out by Torsten Madsen from Moesgaard Museum, because of the threat from ploughing to the surrounding area. This excavation concentrated on the area east and south of the dolmen, where stones and pottery had been ploughed up. The area north and west of the dolmen was too disturbed – the stone packing around the chamber had totally disappeared. The Ormslev dolmen was erected on a terrace in a sloping piece of land adjacent to an area that lay under water, as part of the Brabrand Fjord, during the Stone Age.The dolmen is situated on a small hillock with its entrance to the east. The chamber consists of six orthostats and two capstones in addition to two, or possibly four, entrance stones (fig. 2). The orthostat furthest from the entrance is 1.5 m in width, the opening about 0.5 m across, and the length of the chamber is 2.4 m. The ground plan of the chamber is thus best described as slightly trapezoid.In front of the chamber entrance – at a distance from it of 3-4 m – a 2 m wide, curving stone packing consisting of one to two layers of hand-to-head sized stones was found (fig. 3). At the time of the excavation this layer was approximately 9 m long, but originally it presumably continued in both directions. No kerbstones or traces of a stone circle were found.Under the stone packing different sorts of pits were found; IA, IB and IC without finds, HY and HZ containing potsherds. Three cooking pits (HV, HW and HX) were also found (fig 2).When the chamber was excavated in the 19th century the finds included a small clay vessel and two flint daggers, all of which can be dated to the early Bronze Age. During the excavation in 1975 some flint artefacts dating to the late Mesolithic and Neolithic appeared in the area outside the chamber. Most of the finds, however, consisted of pottery. In all some 950 potsherds – probably representing 35-40 vessels – were found. The pottery is very fragmented. The surface is in many cases eroded and only a small number of sherds can be pieced together into larger parts or almost entire vessels.The pottery can be divided into an early group dating from the early Middle Neolithic (MNA I-MNA II B perhaps MNA III) i.e. 3300-3000 BC and a late group which primarily dates from the latest part of the Funnel Beaker Culture (MNA IV-V) i.e. 2900-2800 BC, but which also contains a few later potsherds.The early pottery is primarily represented by pedestal bowls, funnel beakers, and carinated vessels. The best preserved vessel is a carinated vessel ornamented with vertical stripes and different motives made of rows of chevrons (fig. 4d)The funnel beakers are of different types, the most remarkable being a very coarsely tempered beaker ornamented with deep circular impressions at the rim and vertical stripes on the belly and at least two thin ritual funnel beakers ornamented with finely incised vertical lines (fig. 4g). Other sherds are decorated with whipped cord, incised or impressed lines and rows of chevrons, and two sherds are decorated with indented impressions. One of the pedestal bowls is decorated with a pattern of cross-hatched rhomboids, and there is a carinated vessel with “hanging” triangles on the shoulder (fig. 4)The late Funnel Beaker pottery consists of funnel-necked bowls, simple bowls and bucket-shaped vessels. The vessels are in several cases very coarsely tempered and have a simple decoration consisting of finger and nail impressions normally placed under or on the rim, as well as finger grooves and horizontal rows of impressions (fig. 5a). In addition two vessels are ornamented with the characteristic “hanging” triangles made of small, fine impressions (fig 5c). All the pottery dates from the latest part of the Funnel Beaker Culture except a sherd with an unusual decoration probably dating from the transition to the Single Grave Culture (MNB, fig. 5d) and a vessel with a distinct foot dating from the Late Neolithic. Fragments of five clay discs, one of them perforated, were also found at the Ormslev dolmen. The discs can possibly be assigned to the late Funnel Beaker Culture, although the dating is somewhat uncertain because of the high degree of fragmentation.The late Funnel Beaker pottery, apart from the distinct-foot vessel and the MNB-sherds, was found spread under or near the stone packing in front of the chamber as well as in the pits HZ and HY. A few early sherds were also found in this area. Most of the early sherds, however, were concentrated in the area just south of the chamber entrance.The pottery found under the stone packing represents a clearing of the chamber which probably took place in the Late Neolithic. The early pottery found south of the entrance, however, represents the sacrificing of vessels during MNA I-II; a common ritual during this period of time. Sherds from the possible transitional MNB vessel and the distinct-foot vessel are found among the early vessels by the chamber entrance. Their appearance in this layer, on the original surface, is striking, and it indicates that no significant sedimentation can have taken place from the MNA I to the Late Neolithic. Another explanation could of course be that the layer covering the early pottery was somehow removed before the later sherds were deposited, but it was not possible to confirm this during the excavation.All traces of the primary burials were gone at the time of the second excavation and the erection of the dolmen can thus only be dated through the earliest pottery – MNA I – which gives an ante quem date of the structure. The megalithic grave was used several times during the Middle Neolithic Funnel Beaker Culture, and as late as the early Bronze Age the dolmen was still used for burials. Most of the dolmens in Denmark have no visible traces, today, of having had barrows over them, and the earth around the chamber only covers the lowest part of the orthostats. Traditionally these dolmens have been explained as structures which have lost their covering mounds because of erosion caused by wind and weather, roots, animals and ploughing. However, the number of free-standing dolmens is much too high to be explained only by erosion or human interference. And as several other observations indicate that free-standing dolmens were in fact a regular type of grave during the Funnel Beaker Culture it is time to reconsider the previous general opinion. First of all the free-standing chambers are not evenly distributed over the country although there does not seem to be any reason for assuming regional differences in the process of barrow destruction. For instance in Djursland a large number of graves of this type can be seen in the landscape.Secondly, in Denmark only dolmens - primarily extended or polygonal ones - are free-standing while the passage graves are always found in barrows. It has been argued that if the destruction of barrows had been caused by natural processes it would be remarkable that it had not affected the passage graves. Although this argument carries conviction it must also be taken into consideration that a passage grave is a much more complex monument than a dolmen and that the differences in the degree of earth-covering therefore in part could be due to the differences in construction.Several dolmens today have absolutely no traces of earth-covering, and because of their situation and other circumstances it is reasonable to believe that they have always been free-standing. This is for instance the case regarding the largest round dolmen in Denmark, Poskær Stenhus, Djursland, and also Stenhuset at Strands, Djursland, which is placed on the top of a hill (fig. 6). Another example is the long-dolmen at Gunder­slev­holm, Sealand where the kerbstones stand neatly in such a way that if a barrow had once been removed from the dolmen the process would have had to involve thorough cleaning-up of the area between the kerbstones!Finally, free-standing dolmens are a phenomenon known all over Europe where megalithic monuments were built, e.g. the famous Irish portal-tombs (fig. 8). Moreover, the fact that the free-standing megalithic monuments in other countries, for instance England, seem, like those in Denmark, to have a regional distribution, indicates that the distribution itself is significant.The challenge is to prove that dolmens that appear today to be free-standing have in fact never been covered with a barrow. Only a small number of dolmens in Denmark have been scientifically excavated, and just a few of these have been free-standing dolmens; one of these being the Ormslev dolmen.The barrow is usually placed between the chamber and a circle of kerbstones, and the placement of the kerbstones is thus essential in the assessment of a free-standing dolmen. At the Ormslev dolmen it was not possible to find any traces of kerbstones – maybe because they have always been absent. Instead the disposition of pottery outside the chamber turned out to be of great importance. From the fact that late pottery was found within the stone packing and all the way to the entrance stones of the dolmen it can be seen that this area must always have been accessible and cannot have been covered with a mound. If there once was a barrow the kerbstones must therefore have been placed very close to the chamber, with the layer of sacrificed pottery lying outside the kerbstones. A barrow with such a small diameter would have required a solid circle of kerbstones with dry walling. No trace whatsoever of this was found. Finally it should be noted that there may actually not have been sedimentation to the south of the entrance. If this is the case the Ormslev dolmen cannot have been covered with a mound, as soil would then have been washed out and deposited outside the kerbstones. All things considered it is thus reasonable to assume that the Ormslev dolmen was never covered with a barrow.Other excavated dolmens have provided even better examples of free-standing dolmens. The best example from Denmark is one of the Tustrup dolmens in Djursland. From the stratigraphical observations as well as finds of pottery it can clearly be proved that it has never been covered with a mound. Paradoxically, in 1994 the dolmen was reconstructed in such a way that the area between the chamber and the 2 m high kerbstones was filled in with soil (fig. 7). The intention was to restore its “original” appearance as in the Stone Age!At the Sarup area on Funen a number of free-standing dolmens have been excavated. While some proved always to have been free-standing, others had been covered with earth at a later date. This situation can also be observed in cases of other dolmens in Denmark. The later building of barrows is perhaps to be seen in connection with the transition from the building of dolmens to the erection of the closely sealed passage graves. This distinctly marks a change in mortuary practice and it is possible that at the time when closed chambers became the prevailing way of building megalithic monuments some of the originally free-standing dolmens were covered with earth.Also outside Denmark excavations of meg­al­ithic monuments have proved that the chambers were originally free-standing, for instance the Trollasten dolmen in Scania, Sweden, or most of the megalithic chambers at the Carrowmore cemetery in North-western Ireland.All these indications, arguments, and not least well-documented examples of free-stand­ing megalithic monuments – in Denmark as well as in other parts of Europe – justify the conclusion that free-standing dolmens were a regular type of grave during the Funnel Beaker Culture. Nina NielsenAfdeling for Forhistorisk ArkæologiAarhus UniversitetMoesgård

TamdrupRoyal residence and memorial church in a new light Tamdrup has been shrouded in a degree of mystery in recent times. The solitary church located on a moraine hill west of Horsens is visible from afar and has attracted attention for centuries. On the face of it, it resembles an ordinary parish church, but on closer examination it is found to be unusually large, and on entering one discovers that hidden beneath one roof is a three-aisled construction, which originally was a Romanesque basilica. Why was such a large church built in this particular place? What were the prevailing circumstances in the Early Middle Ages when the foundation stone was laid? The mystery of Tamdrup has been addressed and discussed before. In the 1980s and 1990s, archaeological excavations were carried out which revealed traces of a magnate’s farm or a royal residence from the Late Viking Age or Early Middle Ages located on the field to the west of the church (fig. 4), and in 1991, the book Tamdrup – Kirke og gård was published. Now, by way of metal-detector finds, new information has been added. These new finds provide several answers, but also give rise to several new questions and problems. In recent years, a considerable number of metal finds recovered by metal detector at Tamdrup have been submitted to Horsens Museum. Since 2012, 207 artefacts have been recorded, primarily coins, brooches, weights and fittings from such as harness, dating from the Late Viking Age and Early Middle Ages. Further to these, a coin hoard dating from the time of Svein Estridson was excavated in 2013. The museum has processed the submitted finds, which have been recorded and passed on for treasure trove evaluation. As resources were not available for a more detailed assessment of the artefacts, in 2014 the museum formulated a research project that received funding from the Danish Agency for Culture, enabling the finds to be examined in greater depth. The aim of the research project was to study the metal-detector finds and the excavation findings, partly through an analysis of the total finds assemblage, partly by digitalisation of the earlier excavation plans so these could be compared with each other and with the new excavation data. This was intended to lead on to a new analysis, new interpretations and a new, overall evaluation of Tamdrup’s function, role and significance in the Late Viking Age and Early Middle Ages.Old excavations – new interpretationsIn 1983, on the eastern part of the field, a trial excavation trench was laid out running north-south (d). This resulted in two trenches (a, b) and a further three trial trenches being opened up in 1984 (fig. 6). In the northern trench, a longhouse, a fence and a pit-house were discovered (fig. 8). The interpretation of the longhouse (fig. 4) still stands, in so far as we are dealing with a longhouse with curved walls. The western end of the house appears unequivocal, but there could be some doubt about its eastern end. An alternative interpretation is a 17.5 m long building (fig. 8), from which the easternmost set of roof-bearing posts are excluded. Instead, another posthole is included as the northernmost post in the gable to the east. This gives a house with regularly curved walls, though with the eastern gable (4.3 m) narrower than the western (5.3 m). North of the trench (a) containing the longhouse, a trial trench (c) was also laid out, revealing a number of features. Similarly, there were also several features in the northern part of the middle trial trench (e). A pit in trial trench c was found to contain both a fragment of a bit branch and a bronze key. There was neither time nor resources to permit the excavation of these areas in 1984, but it seems very likely that there are traces of one or more houses here (fig. 9). Here we have a potential site for a possible main dwelling house or hall. In August 1990, on the basis of an evaluation, an excavation trench (h) was opened up to the west of the 1984 excavation (fig. 7). Here, traces were found of two buildings, which lay parallel to each other, oriented east-west. These were interpreted as small auxiliary buildings associated with the same magnate’s farm as the longhouse found in the 1984 excavation. The northern building was 4 m wide and the southern building was 5.5 m. Both buildings were considered to be c. 7 m long and with an open eastern gable. The southern building had one set of internal roof-bearing posts. The excavation of the two buildings in 1990 represented the art of the possible, as no great resources were available. Aerial photos from the time show that the trial trench from the evaluation was back-filled when the excavation was completed. Today, we have a comprehensive understanding of the trial trenches and excavation trenches thanks to the digitalised plans. Here, it becomes apparent that some postholes recorded during the evaluation belong to the southernmost of the two buildings, but these were unfortunately not relocated during the actual excavation. As these postholes, accordingly, did not form part of the interpretation, it was assumed that the building was 7 m in length (fig. 10). When these postholes from the evaluation are included, a ground plan emerges that can be interpreted as the remains of a Trelleborg house (fig. 11). The original 7 m long building constitutes the western end of this characteristic house, while the remainder of the south wall was found in the trial trench. Part of the north wall is apparently missing, but the rest of the building appears so convincing that the missing postholes must be attributed to poor conditions for preservation and observation. The northeastern part of the house has not been uncovered, which means that it is not possible to say with certainty whether the house was 19 or 25 m in length, minus its buttress posts. On the basis of the excavations undertaken in 1984 and 1990, it was assumed that the site represented a magnate’s farm from the Late Viking Age. It was presumed that the excavated buildings stood furthest to the north on the toft and that the farm’s main dwelling – in the best-case scenario the royal residence – should be sought in the area to the south between the excavated buildings. Six north-south-oriented trial trenches were therefore laid out in this area (figs. 6, 7 and 13 – trial trenches o, p, q, r, s and t). The results were, according to the excavation report, disappointing: No trace was found of Harold Bluetooth’s hall. It was concluded that there were no structures and features that could be linked together to give a larger entity such as the presumed magnate’s farm. After digitalisation of the excavation plans from 1991, we now have an overview of the trial trenches to a degree that was not possible previously (fig. 13). It is clear that there is a remarkable concentration of structures in the central and northern parts of the two middle trial trenches (q, r) and in part also in the second (p) and fourth (s) trial trenches from the west, as well as in the northern parts of the two easternmost trial trenches (s, t). An actual archaeological excavation would definitely be recommended here if a corresponding intensity of structures were to be encountered in an evaluation today (anno 2016). Now that all the plans have been digitalised, it is obvious to look at the trial trenches from 1990 and 1991 together. Although some account has to be taken of uncertainties in the digitalisation, this nevertheless confirms the picture of a high density of structures, especially in the middle of the 1991 trial trenches. The collective interpretation from the 1990 and 1991 investigations is that there are strong indications of settlement in the area of the middle 1991 trial trenches. It is also definitely a possibility that these represent the remains of a longhouse, which could constitute the main dwelling house. It can therefore be concluded that it is apparently possible to confirm the interpretation of the site as a potential royal residence, even though this is still subject to some uncertainty in the absence of new excavations. The archaeologists were disappointed following the evaluation undertaken in 1991, but the overview which modern technology is able to provide means that the interpretation is now rather more encouraging. There are strong indications of the presence of a royal residence. FindsThe perception of the area by Tamdrup church gained a completely new dimension when the first metal finds recovered by metal detector arrived at Horsens Museum in the autumn of 2011. With time, as the finds were submitted, considerations of the significance and function of the locality in the Late Viking Age and Early Middle Ages were subjected to revision. The interpretation as a magnate’s farm was, of course, common knowledge, but at Horsens Museum there was an awareness that this interpretation was in some doubt following the results of the 1991 investigations. The many new finds removed any trace of this doubt while, at the same time, giving cause to attribute yet further functions to the site. Was it also a trading place or a central place in conjunction with the farm? And was it active earlier than previously assumed? The 207 metal finds comprise 52 coins (whole, hack and fragments), 34 fittings (harness, belt fittings etc.), 28 brooches (enamelled disc brooches, Urnes fibulas and bird brooches), 21 weights, 15 pieces of silver (bars, hack and casting dead heads), 12 figures (pendants, small horses), nine distaff whorls, eight bronze keys, four lead amulets, three bronze bars, two fragments of folding scales and a number of other artefacts, the most spectacular of which included a gold ring and a bronze seal ring. In dating terms, most of the finds can be assigned to the Late Viking Age and Early Middle Ages. The largest artefact group consists of the coins, of which 52 have been found – either whole or as fragments. To these can be added the coin hoard, which was excavated in 2013 (fig. 12) and which primarily consists of coins minted under Svein Estridson. The other, non-hoard coins comprise: 13 Svein Estridson (figs. 15, 16), five Otto-Adelheid, five Arabic dirhams, three Sancta Colonia, one Canute the Great, one Edward the Confessor, one Theodorich II, one Heinrich II, one Rand pfennig, one Roman denarius (with drilled hole) and nine unidentified silver coins, of which some appear however to be German and others Danish/Anglo-Saxon. Most of the single coins date from the late 10th and early 11th centuries. The next-largest category of finds from Tamdrup are the fittings, which comprise 34 items. This category does, however, cover a broad diversity of finds, of which the dominant types are belt/strap fittings of various kinds and fittings associated with horse harness (figs. 17-24). In total, ten fittings have been found by metal detector that are thought to belong to harness. In addition to these is a single example from the excavation in 1984. The majority of these fittings are interpreted as parts of curb bits, headgear and stirrups. One particularly expressive figure was found at Tamdrup: a strap fitting from a stirrup, formed in a very characteristic way and depicting the face of a Viking (fig. 20). The fitting has been fixed on the stirrup strap at the point where the sides meet. Individual stirrup strap fittings are known by the hundred from England and are considered stylistically to be Anglo-Scandinavian. The fitting from Tamdrup is dated to the 11th century and is an example of a Williams’ Class B, Type 4, East Anglian type face mount. A special category of artefacts is represented by the brooches/fibulas, and enamel brooches are most conspicuous among the finds from Tamdrup. Of the total of 28 examples, 11 are enamel brooches. The most unusual is a large enamel disc brooch of a type that probably has not been found in Denmark previously (fig. 24). Its size alone (5.1 cm in diameter) is unusual. The centre of the brooch is raised relative to the rim and furnished with a pattern of apparently detached figures. On the rim are some alternating sail-shaped triangles on a base line which forms four crown-like motifs and defines a cruciform shape. Between the crowns are suggestions of small pits that probably were filled with enamel. Parallels to this type are found in central Europe, and the one that approaches closest stylistically is a brooch from Komjatice in western Slovakia, found in a grave (fig. 25). This brooch has a more or less identical crown motif, and even though the other elements are not quite the same, the similarity is striking. It is dated to the second half of the 10th century and the first half of the 11th century. The other enamel brooches are well-known types of small Carolingian and Ottonian brooches. There are four circular enamel cross-motif brooches (fig. 26a), two stellate disc brooches with central casing (fig. 26b), one stepped brooch with a cruciform motif, one cruciform fibula with five square casings and two disc-shaped brooches. In addition to the enamel brooches there are ten examples that can definitely be identified as animal brooches. Nine of these are of bronze, while one is of silver. The motifs are birds or dragons in Nordic animal styles from the Late Viking Age, Urnes and Ringerike styles, and simpler, more naturalistic forms of bird fibulas from the Late Viking Age and Early Middle Ages. Accordingly, the date for all the animal brooches is the 11th and 12th centuries. A total of 21 weights of various shapes and forms have been found at Tamdrup: spherical, bipolar spherical, disc-shaped, conical, square and facetted in various ways. Rather more than half are of lead, with the remainder being of bronze, including a couple of examples with an iron core and a mantle of bronze (so-called ørtug weights), where the iron has exploded out through the bronze mantle. One of the bipolar spheres (fig. 28) has ornamentation in the form of small pits on its base. Weights are primarily associated with trade, where it was important to be able to weigh an agreed amount of silver. Weights were, however, also used in the metal workshops, where it was crucial to be able to weigh a particular amount of metal for a specific cast in order to achieve the correct proportions between the different metals in an alloy. Eight bronze keys have been found, all dated broadly to the Viking Age (fig. 29). Most are fragmentarily preserved pieces of relatively small keys of a very simple type that must be seen as being for caskets or small chests. Keys became relatively widespread during the course of the Viking Age. Many were of iron and a good number of bronze. Nevertheless, the number of keys found at Tamdrup is impressive. A further group of artefacts that will be briefly mentioned are the distaff whorls. This is an artefact group which appears in many places and which was exceptionally common in the Viking Age. In archaeological excavations, examples are often found in fired clay, while metal distaff whorls – most commonly of lead – are found in particular by metal detector. Nine distaff whorls have been found at Tamdrup, all of lead. The finest and absolutely most prestigious artefact is a gold ring, which was found c. 60 m southwest of house 1. The ring consists of a 2 mm wide, very thin gold band, while the fittings comprise a central casing surrounded by originally eight small circular casings. In the middle sits a red stone, presumably a garnet, mounted in five rings. In a circle around the stone are the original eight small, circular mounts, of which six are preserved. The mounts, from which the stones are missing, alternate with three small gold spheres. The edges of the mounts have fine cable ornamentation. The dating is rather uncertain and is therefore not ascribed great diagnostic value. In the treasure trove description, the ring is dated to the Late Middle Ages/Renaissance, but it could presumably also date from the Early Middle Ages as it has features reminiscent of the magnificent brooch found at Østergård, which is dated to 1050. Two other spectacular artefacts were found in the form of some small four-legged animals, probably horses, cast in bronze. These figures are known from the Slav area and have presumably had a pre-Christian, symbolic function. Common to both of them are an elongated body, long neck and very short legs. Finally, mention should be made of four lead amulets. These are of a type where, on a long strip of lead, a text has been written in runes or Latin characters. Typically, these are Christian invocations intended to protect the wearer. The lead amulets are folded together and therefore do not take up much space. They are dated to the Middle Ages (1100-1400) and will therefore not be dealt with in further detail here. What the artefacts tell usWhat do the artefacts tell us? They help to provide a dating frame for the site, they tell us something about what has taken place there, they give an indication of which social classes/strata were represented, and, finally, they give us an insight into which foreign contacts could have existed, which influences people were under and which networks they were part of. Most of the artefacts date from the period 900-1000, and this is also the dating frame for the site as a whole. There is a slight tendency for the 10th century finds to be more evenly distributed across the site than those from the 11th century, which tend to be concentrated in the eastern part. A number of the finds are associated with tangible activities, for example the weights and, especially, the distaff whorls. Others also had practical functions but are, at the same time, associated with the upper echelons of society. Of the material from Tamdrup, the latter include the harness fittings and the keys, while the many brooches/fibulas and pendants also belong to artefact groups to which people from the higher strata of society had access. Some of the harness fittings and brooches suggest links with England. The stirrup-strap fitting and the cruciform strap fitting in Anglo-Scandinavian style have clear parallels in the English archaeological record. The coins, on the other hand, point towards Germany. There are a number of German coins from the end of the 10th century and the beginning of the 11th century, but the occurrence of Otto-Adelheid pennies and other German coins is not necessarily an indication of a direct German connection. From the second half of the 11th century, Svein Estridson coins dominate, but they are primarily Danish. Other artefacts that indicate contacts with western Europe are the enamelled brooches in Carolingian-Ottonian style. A number of objects suggest some degree of trade. Here again, it is the coins and the hack silver, and also the relatively large number of lead weights, that must be considered as relatively reliable indicators of trade, at least when their number is taken into consideration. In the light of the metal-detector finds it can, in conclusion, be stated that this was a locality inhabited by people of middle to high status. Many objects are foreign or show foreign inspiration and suggest therefore that Tamdrup was part of an international network. The artefacts support the interpretation of Tamdrup as a magnate’s farm and a royal residence. ConclusionTamdrup was located high up in the landscape, withdrawn from the coast, but nevertheless with quick and easy access to Horsens Fjord. Tamdrup could be approached from the fjord via Nørrestrand and the river Hansted Å on a northern route, or by the river Bygholm Å on a southern route (fig. 33). A withdrawn loca­tion was not atypical in the Viking Age and the Early Middle Ages. At that time there were also sites directly on the coast and at the heads of fjords, where early urbanisation materialised through the establishment of the first market towns, while the king’s residences had apparently to be located in places rather less accessible by boat and ship. As withdrawn but central, regional hubs and markers between land and sea. One must imagine that Tamdrup had a high status in the 10th and 11th centuries, when the king had a residence and a wooden church there. A place of great importance, culminating in the construction of a Romanesque basilica to commemorate the Christianisation of Denmark. Tamdrup appears to have lost its significance for the monarchy shortly after the stone church was completed, which could fit with King Niels, as the last of Svein Estridson’s sons, being killed in 1134, and another branch of the royal family taking over power. At the same time as Tamdrup lost its importance, Horsens flourished as a town and became of such great importance for the Crown that both Svein Grathe and Valdemar the Great had coins minted there. Tamdrup must have been a central element of the local topography in the Viking Age, when Horsens functioned as a landing place, perhaps with seasonal trading. In the long term, Horsens came out strongest, but it must be assumed that Tamdrup had the highest status between AD 900 and 1100.Lars PaghHorsens Museum

Here, we announce four contiguous and two high-quality draft genome sequences of six actinobacterial strains ( Blastococcus, Georgenia, Nocardioides, Allobranchiibius, Yimella, and Williamsia ) that were isolated from rock samples obtained from Indian historical ruins and colonial building stones in New England, United States. These new sequences expand the genome datasets recovered from stone-dwelling microbes and will allow the prediction of their potential role in the stone microbiome.

BackgroundColorectal cancer is the second leading cause of cancer-related mortality in the United Kingdom and a significant contributor to morbidity and mortality worldwide. Early diagnosis provides opportunities for intervention and improved survival. Significant Event Analysis (SEA) is a well-established quality improvement method for learning from new cancer diagnoses.AimThis study aimed to provide additional insights into diagnostic processes for colorectal cancer and to identify areas for improvement in patient care pathways.Design & setting53 general practices across Pennine Lancashire, England, submitted one or more SEA reports as part of an incentivised scheme.MethodA standardised data collection form was used to collate learning points and recommendations for improvements. 161 reports were analysed using an inductive framework analysis approach.ResultsThere was an overarching theme of building vigilance and collaboration between and within general practices and secondary care. Four main sub-themes were also identified including education, individualised and flexible care, ownership and continuity, and communication.ConclusionThese findings provide additional insights into colorectal cancer pathways from a primary care perspective. Practices should be supported in developing protocols for assessment and follow-up of patients with varying presentations. Screening and access to investigations are paramount for improving early diagnosis, however, a flexible diagnostic approach is required according to the individual circumstances of each patient.

The author is challenging the Romanian outdated methodology of research of the well-known Dacian citadels from the late Iron Age excavated during the last 70 years. He is stressing the danger for the health of the Romanian society of the so-called “dacomania”, a trend originated from the communiste period which developed and became stronger and stronger. The duty of the academic community is to fight using the correct research methodology, otherwise it will be vulnerable in front of the irrationale propaganda.The first part of the study deals with the architecture of the Dacian citadels from the Șureanu (Sebeșului) Mountains from south-western Transylvania. The focus of the author’s considerations is concentrated on the building technique of the defense stone-walls. As stone walls are rare during the Iron Age on the territory of Romania, the massive fortifications found in the mountains mentioned above are spectacular. This evolution was explained as a consequence of the development of the Dacian political structures till to a state stage during the 1st century BC. Then Burebista, the first king established his residence at Sarmizegetusa and after conquered the Greek cities from the Black Sea shore, used Greek builders for his citadels. The influence of the Hellenistique building technology is obvious. But the structures were named by Romanian researchers in the field “murus Dacicus” a local original type of fortification wall. The main local feature was consider the using of the wood to link the stone blocks of the wall. The wooden beams were fixed in the blocks faces in some special cuts in the shape of dovetail. The author is offering examples from France, where at Mont Saint Odile and at Frankenbourg in Alsace, there are massive fortifications using the same technique of sticking together the stone blocks. Even their chronology is not well established, it is very probable that the technique arrived in northern Gaul from the Southern Greek cities, maybe by Etruscan intermediary. So he rejects the concept of “murus Dacicus”, the original local Dacian contribution being unrecognizable.The second analysis, more extended is dedicated to the so-called Dacian temples from Sarmizegetusa Regia (Grădiștea Muncelului). The author doubts concerning the identification as sanctuaries of the rows of round stone bases uncovered by the archaeologists. His first objection is based on the archaeological inventory recovered. There are only iron nails and iron elements used in assembling the beams of roofs. In prehistory the possibility of identification of a building as a sacred one is based on cult objects, or cultic structures (as ritual altars, hearths etc.), giving as examples the Neolithic sanctuary at Parța, or buildings from the Iron Age at Popești, or Cârlomănești in Southern Romania. In the reconstructions proposed by several architects and archaeologists as Dinu Antonescu, I. H. Crișan, I. Glodariu is starting from the idea of the using of columns on the stone round bases, resulting a roofed “forest of columns”. It is missing the essential element of a temple: cella, the sacred room. There are also missing any traces of rituals, no animal bones, or votive objects deposits being identified.The author is comparing the plan of the structures from Sarmizegetusa Regia with the plan of the earlier wooden structures identified by geophysical surveys at Mont Lassois (France). The conclusion is that the rows of stone bases are nothing but the bases of granaries elevated from the soil on short stone feet to protect the cereals from moisture and mice (so-called “staddle stones” in England). The European prehistoric sites the system was used. The Romans developed it in big buildings in stone, the horrea. In Northern Spain they are still called horreos and are still functioning, being the best analogies for the buildings vanished at Sarmizegetusa Regia. Some Roman, or Greek technical adviser offered this solution for stockpiling supplies at Sarmizegetusa. It seems normal to the author to exist huge public granaries in an Iron Age settlement which became almost a town, because of the geographical position in the mountains at high altitude with no possibility of local agriculture. The subsistence during the winter of the inhabitants was based on the cereals from the Mureș valley, at approximately 50 km away. The central power had the duty of organizing this supplying system for the community. Starting with the first Austrian researches from the 19th century in the area were reported finds of big quantities of burnt cereals.The Dacians used to have buildings on elevated bases, as are illustrated on Trajan’s Column.It cannot be identified at Sarmizegetusa Regia any temple, nor a “sacred area”, as buildings of the same type were identified at other citadels in the area, as at Costești, for example, where their topographical position is diverse (inside the fortification and outside). The interpretation of a Dacian state with a strong theocratic profile and the fanatical religious feelings of the Dacian warriors is rejected as with no documentary support. At the same time the author is rejecting the interpretation of the systematical destruction of the Dacian buildings by the Romans on religious grounds, giving as example the Latin authors’ different statements and attitude towards the Jews and the Dacians: hate for the Jews, sympathy for the Dacians.

The translations and cross-cultural adaptation of the Scoliosis Research Society Revised (SRS-22r) into Urdu Ahmed ATR *1,2, Rye C 1,3, Rand S 1, Simmonds JV 1 1.Great Ormond Street Institute of Child Health, University College London. 2. West London NHS Healthcare Trust. 3. Great Ormond Street Hospital NHS Foundation Trust ___________________________ Development of an evidence-based pathway of care for children presenting with Toe-Walking gait to the Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital. Christine Douglas *1,2, Jane Simmonds 2, Jonathan Wright 1 1 Royal National Orthopaedic Hospital (RNOH), Stanmore UK 2 Great Ormond Street Institute for Child Health, UCL, UK __________________________ Trends in notification of cases to the Northern Ireland Cerebral Palsy Register Claire Kerr*, Oliver Perra, Róisín Keenan, Karen McConnell ____________________________ Moving towards a better understanding of well-being for children with complex disabilities who use a robotic device, the Innowalk ©Made for Movement (This research is supported by an APCP bursary 2022-2023) Dr Dawn Pickering, Cardiff University __________________________ Translation and cross-cultural adaptation of Indian (Hindi) version of the Paediatric Motor Activity Log Scale-Revised (PMAL-R). Surve ER *1,2, Coomer A 1,3,4, Rand S 1, Simmonds JV 1 1.Great Ormond Street Institute of Child Health, University College London. 2. West London NHS Healthcare Trust. 3. St Mary’s Hospital, Imperial Healthcare Trust. 4. St Georges, University of London __________________________ The Paediatric Physiotherapy Curricula Landscape: A Survey of United Kingdom Entry-Level Programs. Jennifer Chesterton, Faculty of Health Science and Wellbeing. University of Sunderland. Paul Chesterton, School of Health and Life Sciences, Teesside University __________________________ Physiotherapy and Occupational Therapy Hip Hop Collaboration Jenny Thomas, Advanced Physiotherapist, Sheffield Children’s Hospital * __________________________ Community-based gym exercise for non-ambulant adults with childhood onset disability Karen McConnell *1, Claire McFeeters2, Joanne Marley2, Alix Crawford3, Katy Pedlow2 1. School of Nursing and Midwifery, Queen’s University Belfast, 2. School of Health Sciences, Ulster University, 3. Mae Murray Foundation __________________________ Burden or Blessing? Evaluating parental satisfaction of a parent-mediated approach to a pilot interdisciplinary therapy Early Intervention Programme. Brimlow K*., McKenzie A., Philips A. Scottish Centre for Children with Motor Impairments, Cumbernauld, United Kingdom __________________________ Walk tall and look the world right in the eye: A service evaluation of a 4-week trial to assess if the Innowalk Pros could provide physical activity for children with complex neuro-disabilities within a Special School Kath Brimlow*, Jenni Coulter, Aida de La Torre Romero, Georgina Farquhar Scottish Centre for Children with Motor Impairments __________________________ ‘FUNdamentals in Athletics’ Lynsey Cunningham and Clare Gardiner* (South Eastern H&SC Trust) Lee Campbell (Athletics Coach) __________________________ A call to action: gasping for attention Naomi Winfield*, University College London, Milton Keynes University Hospital Madeline Pilbury, Stockport NHS Foundation Trust Carolyn Aitken Arbuckle, NHS Lothian Jason Kettle, Lincolnshire Community Health Services NHS Trust Samantha Grace, St George’s Hospital London Laura Lowndes, Cambridge University Hospitals NHS Trust. __________________________ The translation and cultural adaptation of the Paediatric Balance Scale to Hindi Nikita Dcruz*, Cambridgeshire Community Services NHS Trust Professor Jane Simmonds, University College London Naomi Winfield, University College London, Milton Keynes University Hospital __________________________ Re-SPLASH - Re-Starting Physiotherapy Led Aquatic Therapy Services in Hospital Sarah Brown*, Susan Leiper, Barry Johnstone __________________________ Breathe-Easy: a pilot study to examine the acceptability and feasibility of a novel postural management night-time intervention to improve respiratory health of children with complex neuro-disability. Crombie S*, Sellers D, Kapur A, Hillman G, Baskerville J, Morris C, Bremner S, Lundin J. __________________________ Validation of the Spider, a multisystemic symptom impact tool for symptomatic hypermobility. Busby, V 1,2, Ewer, E,1,3 Simmonds, J.V.1,4 1.UCL Great Ormond Street Institute of Child Health, 2. Buckinghamshire Healthcare NHS Trust, 3. Hounslow and Richmond Community Healthcare NHS Trust, 4. London Hypermobility Unit, Central Health Physiotherapy __________________________ The heROIC trial: Does the use of a Robotic rehabilitation trainer change Quality Of Life, range of movement and function In children with Cerebral Palsy? Clare Grodon (Whittington Health NHS Trust) Harriet Shannon (UCL Great Ormond Street Institute of Child Health) Paul Bassett (Statsconsultancy Ltd) __________________________ Making sense of ‘sport as a therapy choice’ for paediatric physiotherapists working with young people who have disabilities. Susan Booth* (studying at University of Salford) Lecturer in Paediatric Physiotherapy, University of Bolton Professor Garry Crawford (University of Salford) Dr Nicky Spence (University of Salford) __________________________ Effectiveness of integrated hip care pathways for pain, function and quality of life in children with Cerebral Palsy: A systematic literature review. Tanya M. McGrath*, Senior Lecturer, University of the West of England, Bristol, England (UK) Shea T. Palmer, Professor of Physiotherapy, Cardiff University, Wales (UK) __________________________ The differences between skeletal muscle in children with Cerebral Palsy and children who are typically developing. Rebekah Moynihan, Physiotherapist, Leckey __________________________ A focus group of experienced paediatric physiotherapists sharing their perspectives on physiotherapy management of Patellar Dislocation Holly Heighway* - MSc Paediatric Physiotherapy, University College London Daniel Armitage – Lecturer (Teaching), University College London Sarah Rand – Lecturer (Teaching), University College London Dr Louise Kedroff - Lecturer (Teaching), University College London __________________________ Ankle plantarflexor volume appears reduced in some Idiopathic toe walkers. A service evaluation. McNee AE1*, Noble J2, Evans S1, Zeigler K1, Ng Man Sun S1, Hulme A1, Fry NR2, Shortland AP2. 1Paediatric Orthopaedic Team, Chelsea and Westminster Hospital, London 2One Small Step Gait Laboratory, Evelina Children’s Hospital, London __________________________ Children and Young People (CYP) with acute finger injuries do not need referral to Physiotherapy. Nikki Thorpe, Royal Free NHS Trust, Barnet Hospital Children and Young People’s Musculoskeletal outpatient service. __________________________ Barriers and Facilitators for families of children with neurodisability participating in research: implications for physiotherapy research design and delivery. Candiss Argent*1, Claire Ingleby1, Elizabeth Thompson1, Malabika Ghosh1, Sarah Edney1,2 1.Lancashire Teaching Hospitals NHS Foundation Trust, UK, 2. Newcastle University, UK __________________________ “It kind of hurts …I still do it because it’s my physio’: Children’s experiences of physiotherapy within a feasibility RCT Rachel Rapson*, Bernie Carter, Jos M. Latour, Wendy Ingram, Jonathan Marsden. __________________________ A feasibility randomised controlled trial of an interactive exercise-training device for children with cerebral palsy. Rachel Rapson*, Bernie Carter, Jos M. Latour, Wendy Ingram, Jonathan Marsden.

At a time when a trip abroad was out of the reach of most women, even if they could not make the journey, Australian women could imagine “abroad” just by reading popular women’s magazines such as Woman (later Woman’s Day and Home then Woman’s Day) and The Australian Women’s Weekly, and journals, such as The Progressive Woman and The Housewife. Increasingly in the post-war period, these magazines and journals contained advertisements for holidaying abroad, recipes for international foods and articles on overseas fashions. It was not unusual for local manufacturers, to use the lure of travel and exotic places as a way of marketing their goods. Healing Bicycles, for example, used the slogan “In Venice men go to work on Gondolas: In Australia it’s a Healing” (“Healing Cycles” 40), and Exotiq cosmetics featured landscapes of countries where Exotiq products had “captured the hearts of women who treasured their loveliness: Cincinnati, Milan, New York, Paris, Geneva and Budapest” (“Exotiq Cosmetics” 36).Unlike Homer’s Penelope, who stayed at home for twenty years waiting for Odysseus to return from the Trojan wars, women have always been on the move to the same extent as men. Their rich travel stories (Riggal, Haysom, Lancaster)—mostly written as letters and diaries—remain largely unpublished and their experiences are not part of the public record to the same extent as the travel stories of men. Ros Pesman argues that the women traveller’s voice was one of privilege and authority full of excitement and disbelief (Pesman 26). She notes that until well into the second part of the twentieth century, “the journey for Australian women to Europe was much more than a return to the sources of family identity and history” (19). It was also:a pilgrimage to the centres and sites of culture, literature and history and an encounter with “the real world.”Europe, and particularly London,was also the place of authority and reference for all those seeking accreditation and recognition, whether as real writers, real ladies or real politicians and statesmen. (19)This article is about two Australian writers; Helen Seager, a journalist employed by The Argus, a daily newspaper in Melbourne Australia, and Gwen Hughes, a graduate of Emily McPherson College of Domestic Economy in Melbourne, working in England as a lecturer, demonstrator and cookbook writer for Parkinsons’ Stove Company. Helen Seager travelled to England on an assignment for The Argus in 1950 and sent articles each day for publication in the women’s section of the newspaper. Gwen Hughes travelled extensively in the Balkans in the 1930s recording her impressions, observations, and recipes for traditional foods whilst working for Parkinsons in England. These women were neither returning to the homeland for an encounter with the real world, nor were they there as cultural tourists in the Cook’s Tour sense of the word. They were professional writers and their observations about the places they visited offer fresh and lively versions of England and Europe, its people, places, and customs.Helen SeagerAustralian Journalist Helen Seager (1901–1981) wrote a daily column, Good Morning Ma’am in the women’s pages of The Argus, from 1947 until shortly after her return from abroad in 1950. Seager wrote human interest stories, often about people of note (Golding), but with a twist; a Baroness who finds knitting exciting (Seager, “Baroness” 9) and ballet dancers backstage (Seager, “Ballet” 10). Much-loved by her mainly female readership, in May 1950 The Argus sent her to England where she would file a daily report of her travels. Whilst now we take travel for granted, Seager was sent abroad with letters of introduction from The Argus, stating that she was travelling on a special editorial assignment which included: a certificate signed by the Lord Mayor of The City of Melbourne, seeking that any courtesies be extended on her trip to England, the Continent, and America; a recommendation from the Consul General of France in Australia; and introductions from the Premier’s Department, the Premier of Victoria, and Austria’s representative in Australia. All noted the nature of her trip, her status as an esteemed reporter for a Melbourne newspaper, and requested that any courtesy possible to be made to her.This assignment was an indication that The Argus valued its women readers. Her expenses, and those of her ten-year-old daughter Harriet, who accompanied her, were covered by the newspaper. Her popularity with her readership is apparent by the enthusiastic tone of the editorial article covering her departure. Accompanied with a photograph of Seager and Harriet boarding the aeroplane, her many women readers were treated to their first ever picture of what she looked like:THOUSANDS of "Argus" readers, particularly those in the country, have wanted to know what Helen Seager looks like. Here she is, waving good-bye as she left on the first stage of a trip to England yesterday. She will be writing her bright “Good Morning, Ma'am” feature as she travels—giving her commentary on life abroad. (The Argus, “Goodbye” 1)Figure 1. Helen Seager and her daughter Harriet board their flight for EnglandThe first article “From Helen in London” read,our Helen Seager, after busy days spent exploring England with her 10-year-old daughter, Harriet, today cabled her first “Good Morning, Ma’am” column from abroad. Each day from now on she will report from London her lively impressions in an old land, which is delightfully new to her. (Seager, “From Helen” 3)Whilst some of her dispatches contain the impressions of the awestruck traveller, for the most they are exquisitely observed stories of the everyday and the ordinary, often about the seemingly most trivial of things, and give a colourful, colonial and egalitarian impression of the places that she visits. A West End hair-do is described, “as I walked into that posh looking establishment, full of Louis XV, gold ornateness to be received with bows from the waist by numerous satellites, my first reaction was to turn and bolt” (Seager, “West End” 3).When she visits Oxford’s literary establishments, she is, for this particular article, the awestruck Australian:In Oxford, you go around saying, soto voce and aloud, “Oh, ye dreaming spires of Oxford.” And Matthew Arnold comes alive again as a close personal friend.In a weekend, Ma’am, I have seen more of Oxford than lots of native Oxonians. I have stood and brooded over the spit in Christ Church College’s underground kitchens on which the oxen for Henry the Eighth were roasted.I have seen the Merton Library, oldest in Oxford, in which the chains that imprisoned the books are still to be seen, and have added by shoe scrape to the stone steps worn down by 500 years of walkers. I have walked the old churches, and I have been lost in wonder at the goodly virtues of the dead. And then, those names of Oxford! Holywell, Tom’s Quad, Friars’ Entry, and Long Wall. The gargoyles at Magdalen and the stones untouched by bombs or war’s destruction. It adds a new importance to human beings to know that once, if only, they too have walked and stood and stared. (Seager, “From Helen” 3)Her sense of wonder whilst in Oxford is, however, moderated by the practicalities of travel incorporated into the article. She continues to describe the warnings she was given, before her departure, of foreign travel that had her alarmed about loss and theft, and the care she took to avoid both. “It would have made you laugh, Ma’am, could you have seen the antics to protect personal property in the countries in transit” (Seager, “From Helen” 3).Her description of a trip to Blenheim Palace shows her sense of fun. She does not attempt to describe the palace or its contents, “Blenheim Palace is too vast and too like a great Government building to arouse much envy,” settling instead on a curiosity should there be a turn of events, “as I surged through its great halls with a good-tempered, jostling mob I couldn’t help wondering what those tired pale-faced guides would do if the mob mood changed and it started on an old-fashioned ransack.” Blenheim palace did not impress her as much as did the Sunday crowd at the palace:The only thing I really took a fancy to were the Venetian cradle, which was used during the infancy of the present Duke and a fine Savvonerie carpet in the same room. What I never wanted to see again was the rubbed-fur collar of the lady in front.Sunday’s crowd was typically English, Good tempered, and full of Cockney wit, and, if you choose to take your pleasures in the mass, it is as good a company as any to be in. (Seager, “We Look” 3)In a description of Dublin and the Dubliners, Seager describes the food-laden shops: “Butchers’ shops leave little room for customers with their great meat carcasses hanging from every hook. … English visitors—and Dublin is awash with them—make an orgy of the cakes that ooze real cream, the pink and juicy hams, and the sweets that demand no points” (Seager, “English” 6). She reports on the humanity of Dublin and Dubliners, “Dublin has a charm that is deep-laid. It springs from the people themselves. Their courtesy is overlaid with a real interest in humanity. They walk and talk, these Dubliners, like Kings” (ibid.).In Paris she melds the ordinary with the noteworthy:I had always imagined that the outside of the Louvre was like and big art gallery. Now that I know it as a series of palaces with courtyards and gardens beyond description in the daytime, and last night, with its cleverly lighted fountains all aplay, its flags and coloured lights, I will never forget it.Just now, down in the street below, somebody is packing the boot of a car to go for, presumably, on a few days’ jaunt. There is one suitcase, maybe with clothes, and on the footpath 47 bottles of the most beautiful wines in the world. (Seager, “When” 3)She writes with a mix of awe and ordinary:My first glimpse of that exciting vista of the Arc de Triomphe in the distance, and the little bistros that I’ve always wanted to see, and all the delights of a new city, […] My first day in Paris, Ma’am, has not taken one whit from the glory that was London. (ibid.) Figure 2: Helen Seager in ParisIt is my belief that Helen Seager intended to do something with her writings abroad. The articles have been cut from The Argus and pasted onto sheets of paper. She has kept copies of the original reports filed whist she was away. The collection shows her insightful egalitarian eye and a sharp humour, a mix of awesome and commonplace.On Bastille Day in 1950, Seager wrote about the celebrations in Paris. Her article is one of exuberant enthusiasm. She writes joyfully about sirens screaming overhead, and people in the street, and looking from windows. Her article, published on 19 July, starts:Paris Ma’am is a magical city. I will never cease to be grateful that I arrived on a day when every thing went wrong, and watched it blossom before my eyes into a gayness that makes our Melbourne Cup gala seem funeral in comparison.Today is July 14.All places of business are closed for five days and only the places of amusement await the world.Parisians are tireless in their celebrations.I went to sleep to the music of bands, dancing feet and singing voices, with the raucous but cheerful toots from motors splitting the night air onto atoms. (Seager, “When” 3)This article resonates uneasiness. How easily could those scenes of celebration on Bastille Day in 1950 be changed into the scenes of carnage on Bastille Day 2016, the cheerful toots of the motors transformed into cries of fear, the sirens in the sky from aeroplanes overhead into the sirens of ambulances and police vehicles, as a Mohamed Lahouaiej Bouhlel, as part of a terror attack drives a truck through crowds of people celebrating in Nice.Gwen HughesGwen Hughes graduated from Emily Macpherson College of Domestic Economy with a Diploma of Domestic Science, before she travelled to England to take up employment as senior lecturer and demonstrator of Parkinson’s England, a company that manufactured electric and gas stoves. Hughes wrote in her unpublished manuscript, Balkan Fever, that it was her idea of making ordinary cooking demonstration lessons dramatic and homelike that landed her the job in England (Hughes, Balkan 25-26).Her cookbook, Perfect Cooking, was produced to encourage housewives to enjoy cooking with their Parkinson’s modern cookers with the new Adjusto temperature control. The message she had to convey for Parkinsons was: “Cooking is a matter of putting the right ingredients together and cooking them at the right temperature to achieve a given result” (Hughes, Perfect 3). In reality, Hughes used this cookbook as a vehicle to share her interest in and love of Continental food, especially food from the Balkans where she travelled extensively in the 1930s.Recipes of Continental foods published in Perfect Cooking sit seamlessly alongside traditional British foods. The section on soup, for example, contains recipes for Borscht, a very good soup cooked by the peasants of Russia; Minestrone, an everyday Italian soup; Escudella, from Spain; and Cream of Spinach Soup from France (Perfect 22-23). Hughes devoted a whole chapter to recipes and descriptions of Continental foods labelled “Fascinating Foods From Far Countries,” showing her love and fascination with food and travel. She started this chapter with the observation:There is nearly as much excitement and romance, and, perhaps fear, about sampling a “foreign dish” for the “home stayer” as there is in actually being there for the more adventurous “home leaver”. Let us have a little have a little cruise safe within the comfort of our British homes. Let us try and taste the good things each country is famed for, all the while picturing the romantic setting of these dishes. (Hughes, Perfect 255)Through her recipes and descriptive passages, Hughes took housewives in England and Australia into the strange and wonderful kitchens of exotic women: Madame Darinka Jocanovic in Belgrade, Miss Anicka Zmelova in Prague, Madame Mrskosova at Benesova. These women taught her to make wonderful-sounding foods such as Apfel Strudel, Knedlikcy, Vanilla Kipfel and Christmas Stars. “Who would not enjoy the famous ‘Goose with Dumplings,’” she declares, “in the company of these gay, brave, thoughtful people with their romantic history, their gorgeously appareled peasants set in their richly picturesque scenery” (Perfect 255).It is Hughes’ unpublished manuscript Balkan Fever, written in Melbourne in 1943, to which I now turn. It is part of the Latrobe Heritage collection at the State Library of Victoria. Her manuscript was based on her extensive travels in the Balkans in the 1930s whilst she lived and worked in England, and it was, I suspect, her intention to seek publication.In her twenties, Hughes describes how she set off to the Balkans after meeting a fellow member of the Associated Country Women of the World (ACWW) at the Royal Yugoslav Legation. He was an expert on village life in the Balkans and advised her, that as a writer she would get more information from the local villagers than she would as a tourist. Hughes, who, before television gave cooking demonstrations on the radio, wrote, “I had been writing down recipes and putting them in books for years and of course the things one talks about over the air have to be written down first—that seemed fair enough” (Hughes, Balkan 25-26). There is nothing of the awestruck traveller in Hughes’ richly detailed observations of the people and the places that she visited. “Travelling in the Balkans is a very different affair from travelling in tourist-conscious countries where you just leave it to Cooks. You must either have unlimited time at your disposal, know the language or else have introductions that will enable the right arrangements to be made for you” (Balkan 2), she wrote. She was the experiential tourist, deeply immersed in her surroundings and recording food culture and society as it was.Hughes acknowledged that she was always drawn away from the cities to seek the real life of the people. “It’s to the country district you must go to find the real flavour of a country and the heart of its people—especially in the Balkans where such a large percentage of the population is agricultural” (Balkan 59). Her descriptions in Balkan Fever are a blend of geography, history, culture, national songs, folklore, national costumes, food, embroidery, and vivid observation of the everyday city life. She made little mention of stately homes or buildings. Her attitude to travel can be summed up in her own words:there are so many things to see and learn in the countries of the old world that, walking with eyes and mind wide open can be an immensely delightful pastime, even with no companion and nowhere to go. An hour or two spent in some unpretentious coffee house can be worth all the dinners at Quaglino’s or at The Ritz, if your companion is a good talker, a specialist in your subject, or knows something of the politics and the inner life of the country you are in. (Balkan 28)Rather than touring the grand cities, she was seduced by the market places with their abundance of food, colour, and action. Describing Sarajevo she wrote:On market day the main square is a blaze of colour and movement, the buyers no less colourful than the peasants who have come in from the farms around with their produce—cream cheese, eggs, chickens, fruit and vegetables. Handmade carpets hung up for sale against walls or from trees add their barbaric colour to the splendor of the scene. (Balkan 75)Markets she visited come to life through her vivid descriptions:Oh those markets, with the gorgeous colours, and heaped untidiness of the fruits and vegetables—paprika, those red and green peppers! Every kind of melon, grape and tomato contributing to the riot of colour. Then there were the fascinating peasant embroideries, laces and rich parts of old costumes brought in from the villages for sale. The lovely gay old embroideries were just laid out on a narrow carpet spread along the pavement or hung from a tree if one happened to be there. (Balkan 11)Perhaps it was her radio cooking shows that gave her the ability to make her descriptions sensorial and pictorial:We tasted luxurious foods, fish, chickens, fruits, wines, and liqueurs. All products of the country. Perfect ambrosial nectar of the gods. I was entirely seduced by the rose petal syrup, fragrant and aromatic, a red drink made from the petals of the darkest red roses. (Balkan 151)Ordinary places and everyday events are beautifully realised:We visited the cheese factory amongst other things. … It was curious to see in that far away spot such a quantity of neatly arranged cheeses in the curing chamber, being prepared for export, and in another room the primitive looking round balls of creamed cheese suspended from rafters. Later we saw trains of pack horses going over the mountains, and these were probably the bearers of these cheeses to Bitolj or Skoplje, whence they would be consigned further for export. (Balkan 182)ConclusionReading Seager and Hughes, one cannot help but be swept along on their travels and take part in their journeys. What is clear, is that they were inspired by their work, which is reflected in the way they wrote about the places they visited. Both sought out people and places that were, as Hughes so vividly puts it, not part of the Cook’s Tour. They travelled with their eyes wide open for experiences that were both new and normal, making their writing relevant even today. Written in Paris on Bastille Day 1950, Seager’s Bastille Day article is poignant when compared to Bastille Day in France in 2016. Hughes’s descriptions of Sarajevo are a far cry from the scenes of destruction in that city between 1992 and 1995. The travel writing of these two women offers us vivid impressions and images of the often unreported events, places, daily lives, and industry of the ordinary and the then every day, and remind us that the more things change, the more they stay the same.Pesman writes, “women have always been on the move and Australian women have been as numerous as passengers on the outbound ships as have men” (20), but the records of their travels seldom appear on the public record. Whilst their work-related writings are part of the public record (see Haysom; Lancaster; Riggal), this body of women’s travel writing has not received the attention it deserves. Hughes’ cookbooks, with their traditional Eastern European recipes and evocative descriptions of people and kitchens, are only there for the researcher who knows that cookbooks are a trove of valuable social and cultural material. Digital copies of Seager’s writing can be accessed on Trove (a digital repository), but there is little else about her or her body of writing on the public record.ReferencesThe Argus. “Goodbye Ma’am.” 26 May 1950: 1. <http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/22831285?searchTerm=Goodbye%20Ma%E2%80%99am%E2%80%99&searchLimits=l-title=13|||l-decade=195>.“Exotiq Cosmetics.” Advertisement. Woman 20 Aug. 1945: 36.Golding, Peter. “Just a Chattel of the Sale: A Mostly Light-Hearted Retrospective of a Diverse Life.” In Jim Usher, ed., The Argus: Life & Death of Newspaper. North Melbourne: Australian Scholarly Publishing 2007.Haysom, Ida. Diaries and Photographs of Ida Haysom. <http://search.slv.vic.gov.au/MAIN:Everything:SLV_VOYAGER1637361>.“Healing Cycles.” Advertisement. Woman 27 Aug. 1945: 40. Hughes, Gwen. Balkan Fever. Unpublished Manuscript. State Library of Victoria, MS 12985 Box 3846/4. 1943.———. Perfect Cooking London: Parkinsons, c1940.Lancaster, Rosemary. Je Suis Australienne: Remarkable Women in France 1880-1945. Crawley WA: UWA Press, 2008.Pesman, Ros. “Overseas Travel of Australian Women: Sources in the Australian Manuscripts Collection of the State Library of Victoria.” The Latrobe Journal 58 (Spring 1996): 19-26.Riggal, Louie. (Louise Blanche.) Diary of Italian Tour 1905 February 21 - May 1. <http://search.slv.vic.gov.au/MAIN:Everything:SLV_VOYAGER1635602>.Seager, Helen. “Ballet Dancers Backstage.” The Argus 10 Aug. 1944: 10. <http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/11356057?searchTerm=Ballet%20Dancers%20Backstage&searchLimits=l-title=13|||l-decade=194>.———. “The Baroness Who Finds Knitting Exciting.” The Argus 1 Aug. 1944: 9. <http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/11354557?searchTerm=Helen%20seager%20Baroness&searchLimits=l-title=13|||l-decade=194>.———. “English Visitors Have a Food Spree in Eire.” The Argus 29 Sep. 1950: 6. <http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/22912011?searchTerm=English%20visitors%20have%20a%20spree%20in%20Eire&searchLimits=l-title=13|||l-decade=195>.———. “From Helen in London.” The Argus 20 June 1950: 3. <http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/22836738?searchTerm=From%20Helen%20in%20London&searchLimits=l-title=13|||l-decade=195>.———. “Helen Seager Storms Paris—Paris Falls.” The Argus 15 July 1950: 7.<http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/22906913?searchTerm=Helen%20Seager%20Storms%20Paris%E2%80%99&searchLimits=l-title=13|||l-decade=195>.———. “We Look over Blenheim Palace.” The Argus 28 Sep. 1950: 3. <http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/22902040?searchTerm=Helen%20Seager%20Its%20as%20a%20good%20a%20place%20as%20you%20would%20want%20to%20be&searchLimits=l-title=13|||l-decade=195>.———. “West End Hair-Do Was Fun.” The Argus 3 July 1950: 3. <http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/22913940?searchTerm=West%20End%20hair-do%20was%20fun%E2%80%99&searchLimits=l-title=13|||l-decade=195>.———. “When You Are in Paris on July 14.” The Argus 19 July 1950: 3. <http://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/22906244?searchTerm=When%20you%20are%20in%20Paris%20on%20July%2014&searchLimits=l-title=13|||l-decade=195>.

Introduction: Brutal?The word “brutal” has associations with cruelty, inhumanity, and aggression. Within the field of architecture, however, the term “Brutalism” refers to a post-World War II Modernist style, deriving from the French phrase betón brut, which means raw concrete (Clement 18). Core traits of Brutalism include functionalist design, daring geometry, overbearing scale, and the blatant exposure of structural materials, chiefly concrete and steel (Meades 1).The emergence of Brutalism coincided with chronic housing shortages in European countries ravaged by World War II (Power 5) and government-sponsored slum clearance in the UK (Power 190; Baker). Brutalism’s promise to accommodate an astonishing number of civilians within a minimal area through high-rise configurations and elevated walkways was alluring to architects and city planners (High Rise Dreams). Concrete was the material of choice due to its affordability, durability, and versatility; it also allowed buildings to be erected quickly (Allen and Iano 622).The Brutalist style was used for cultural centres, such as the Perth Concert Hall in Western Australia, educational institutions such as the Yale School of Architecture, and government buildings such as the Secretariat Building in Chandigarh, India. However, as pioneering Brutalist architect Alison Smithson explained, the style achieved full expression by “thinking on a much bigger scale somehow than if you only got [sic] one house to do” (Smithson and Smithson, Conversation 40). Brutalism, therefore, lent itself to the design of large residential complexes. It was consequently used worldwide for public housing developments, that is, residences built by a government authority with the aim of providing affordable housing. Notable examples include the Western City Gate in Belgrade, Serbia, and Habitat 67 in Montreal, Canada.Brutalist architecture polarised opinion and continues to do so to this day. On the one hand, protected cultural heritage status has been awarded to some Brutalist buildings (Carter; Glancey) and the style remains extremely influential, for example in the recent award-winning work of architect Zaha Hadid (Niesewand). On the other hand, the public housing projects associated with Brutalism are widely perceived as failures (The Great British Housing Disaster). Many Brutalist objects currently at risk of demolition are social housing estates, such as the Smithsons’ Robin Hood Gardens in London, UK. Whether the blame for the demise of such housing developments lies with architects, inhabitants, or local government has been widely debated. In the UK and USA, local authorities had relocated families of predominantly lower socio-economic status into the newly completed developments, but were unable or unwilling to finance subsequent maintenance and security costs (Hanley 115; R. Carroll; The Pruitt-Igoe Myth). Consequently, the residents became fearful of criminal activity in staircases and corridors that lacked “defensible space” (Newman 9), which undermined a vision of “streets in the sky” (Moran 615).In spite of its later problems, Brutalism’s architects had intended to develop a style that expressed 1950s contemporary living in an authentic manner. To them, this meant exposing building materials in their “raw” state and creating an aesthetic for an age of science, machine mass production, and consumerism (Stadler 264; 267; Smithson and Smithson, But Today 44). Corporeal sensations did not feature in this “machine” aesthetic (Dalrymple). Exceptionally, acclaimed Brutalist architect Ernö Goldfinger discussed how “visual sensation,” “sound and touch with smell,” and “the physical touch of the walls of a narrow passage” contributed to “sensations of space” within architecture (Goldfinger 48). However, the effects of residing within Brutalist objects may not have quite conformed to predictions, since Goldfinger moved out of his Brutalist construction, Balfron Tower, after two months, to live in a terraced house (Hanley 112).An abstract perspective that favours theorisation over subjective experiences characterises discourse on Brutalist social housing developments to this day (Singh). There are limited data on the everyday lived experience of residents of Brutalist social housing estates, both then and now (for exceptions, see Hanley; The Pruitt-Igoe Myth; Cooper et al.).Yet, our bodily interaction with the objects around us shapes our lived experience. On a broader physical scale, this includes the structures within which we live and work. The importance of the interaction between architecture and embodied being is increasingly recognised. Today, architecture is described in corporeal terms—for example, as a “skin” that surrounds and protects its human inhabitants (Manan and Smith 37; Armstrong 77). Biological processes are also inspiring new architectural approaches, such as synthetic building materials with life-like biochemical properties (Armstrong 79), and structures that exhibit emergent behaviour in response to human presence, like a living system (Biloria 76).In this article, we employ an autoethnographic perspective to explore the corporeal effects of Brutalist buildings, thereby revealing a new dimension to the anthropological significance of these controversial structures. We trace how they shape the physicality of the bodies interacting within them. Our approach is one step towards considering the historically under-appreciated subjective, corporeal experience elicited in interaction with Brutalist objects.Method: An Autoethnographic ApproachAutoethnography is a form of self-narrative research that connects the researcher’s personal experience to wider cultural understandings (Ellis 31; Johnson). It can be analytical (Anderson 374) or emotionally evocative (Denzin 426).We investigated two Brutalist residential estates in London, UK:(i) The Barbican Estate: This was devised to redevelop London’s severely bombed post-WWII Cripplegate area, combining private residences for middle class professionals with an assortment of amenities including a concert hall, library, conservatory, and school. It was designed by architects Chamberlin, Powell, and Bon. Opened in 1982, the Estate polarised opinion on its aesthetic qualities but has enjoyed success with residents and visitors. The development now comprises extremely expensive housing (Brophy). It was Grade II-listed in 2001 (Glancey), indicating a status of architectural preservation that restricts alterations to significant buildings.(ii) Trellick Tower: This was built to replace dilapidated 19th-century housing in the North Kensington area. It was designed by Hungarian-born architect Ernő Goldfinger to be a social housing development and was completed in 1972. During the 1980s and 1990s, it became known as the “Tower of Terror” due to its high level of crime (Hanley 113). Nevertheless, Trellick Tower was granted Grade II listed status in 1998 (Carter), and subsequent improvements have increased its desirability as a residence (R. Carroll).We explored the grounds, communal spaces, and one dwelling within each structure, independently recording our corporeal impressions and sensations in detailed notes, which formed the basis of longhand journals written afterwards. Our analysis was developed through co-constructed autoethnographic reflection (emerald and Carpenter 748).For reasons of space, one full journal entry is presented for each Brutalist structure, with an excerpt from each remaining journal presented in the subsequent analysis. To identify quotations from our journals, we use the codes R- and N- to refer to RB’s and NC’s journals, respectively; we use -B and -T to refer to the Barbican Estate and Trellick Tower, respectively.The Barbican Estate: Autoethnographic JournalAn intricate concrete world emerges almost without warning from the throng of glass office blocks and commercial buildings that make up the City of London's Square Mile. The Barbican Estate comprises a multitude of low-rise buildings, a glass conservatory, and three enormous high-rise towers. Each modular building component is finished in the same coarse concrete with burnished brick underfoot, whilst the entire structure is elevated above ground level by enormous concrete stilts. Plants hang from residential balconies over glimmering pools in a manner evocative of concrete Hanging Gardens of Babylon.Figure 1. Barbican Estate Figure 2. Cromwell Tower from below, Barbican Estate. Figure 3: The stairwell, Cromwell Tower, Barbican Estate. Figure 4. Lift button pods, Cromwell Tower, Barbican Estate.R’s journalMy first footsteps upon the Barbican Estate are elevated two storeys above the street below, and already an eerie calm settles on me. The noise of traffic and the bustle of pedestrians have seemingly been left far behind, and a path of polished brown brick has replaced the paving slabs of the city's pavement. I am made more aware of the sound of my shoes upon the ground as I take each step through the serenity.Running my hands along the walkway's concrete sides as we proceed further into the estate I feel its coarseness, and look up to imagine the same sensation touching the uppermost balcony of the towers. As we travel, the cold nature and relentless employ of concrete takes over and quickly becomes the norm.Our route takes us through the Barbican's central Arts building and into the Conservatory, a space full of plant-life and water features. The noise of rushing water comes as a shock, and I'm reminded just how hauntingly peaceful the atmosphere of the outside estate has been. As we leave the conservatory, the hush returns and we follow another walkway, this time allowing a balcony-like view over the edge of the estate. I'm quickly absorbed by a sensation I can liken only to peering down at the ground from a concrete cloud as we observe the pedestrians and traffic below.Turning back, we follow the walkways and begin our approach to Cromwell Tower, a jagged structure scraping the sky ahead of us and growing menacingly larger with every step. The estate has up till now seemed devoid of wind, but even so a cold begins to prickle my neck and I increase my speed toward the door.A high-ceilinged foyer greets us as we enter and continue to the lifts. As we push the button and wait, I am suddenly aware that carpet has replaced bricks beneath my feet. A homely sensation spreads, my breathing slows, and for a brief moment I begin to relax.We travel at heart-racing speed upwards to the 32nd floor to observe the view from the Tower's fire escape stairwell. A brief glance over the stair's railing as we enter reveals over 30 storeys of stair casing in a hard-edged, triangular configuration. My mind reels, I take a second glance and fail once again to achieve focus on the speck of ground at the bottom far below. After appreciating the eastward view from the adjacent window that encompasses almost the entirety of Central London, we make our way to a 23rd floor apartment.Entering the dwelling, we explore from room to room before reaching the balcony of the apartment's main living space. Looking sheepishly from the ledge, nothing short of a genuine concrete fortress stretches out beneath us in all directions. The spirit and commotion of London as I know it seems yet more distant as we gaze at the now miniaturized buildings. An impression of self-satisfied confidence dawns on me. The fortress where we stand offers security, elevation, sanctuary and I'm furnished with the power to view London's chaos at such a distance that it's almost silent.As we leave the apartment, I am shadowed by the same inherent air of tranquillity, pressing yet another futuristic lift access button, plummeting silently back towards the ground, and padding across the foyer's soft carpet to pursue our exit route through the estate's sky-suspended walkways, back to the bustle of regular London civilization.Trellick Tower: Autoethnographic JournalThe concrete majesty of Trellick Tower is visible from Westbourne Park, the nearest Tube station. The Tower dominates the skyline, soaring above its neighbouring estate, cafes, and shops. As one nears the Tower, the south face becomes visible, revealing the suspended corridors that join the service tower to the main body of flats. Light of all shades and colours pours from its tightly stacked dwellings, which stretch up into the sky. Figure 5. Trellick Tower, South face. Figure 6. Balcony in a 27th-floor flat, Trellick Tower.N’s journalOutside the tower, I sense danger and experience a heightened sense of awareness. A thorny frame of metal poles holds up the tower’s facade, each pole poised as if to slip down and impale me as I enter the building.At first, the tower is too big for comprehension; the scale is unnatural, gigantic. I feel small and quite squashable in comparison. Swathes of unmarked concrete surround the tower, walls that are just too high to see over. Who or what are they hiding? I feel uncertain about what is around me.It takes some time to reach the 27th floor, even though the lift only stops on every 3rd floor. I feel the forces of acceleration exert their pressure on me as we rise. The lift is very quiet.Looking through the windows on the 27th-floor walkway that connects the lift tower to the main building, I realise how high up I am. I can see fog. The city moves and modulates beneath me. It is so far away, and I can’t reach it. I’m suspended, isolated, cut off in the air, as if floating in space.The buildings underneath appear tiny in comparison to me, but I know I’m tiny compared to this building. It’s a dichotomy, an internal tension, and feels quite unreal.The sound of the wind in the corridors is a constant whine.In the flat, the large kitchen window above the sink opens directly onto the narrow, low-ceilinged corridor, on the other side of which, through a second window, I again see London far beneath. People pass by here to reach their front doors, moving so close to the kitchen window that you could touch them while you’re washing up, if it weren’t for the glass. Eye contact is possible with a neighbour, or a stranger. I am close to that which I’m normally separated from, but at the same time I’m far from what I could normally access.On the balcony, I have a strong sensation of vertigo. We are so high up that we cannot be seen by the city and we cannot see others. I feel physically cut off from the world and realise that I’m dependent on the lift or endlessly spiralling stairs to reach it again.Materials: sharp edges, rough concrete, is abrasive to my skin, not warm or welcoming. Sharp little stones are embedded in some places. I mind not to brush close against them.Behind the tower is a mysterious dark maze of sharp turns that I can’t see around, and dark, narrow walkways that confine me to straight movements on sloping ramps.“Relentless Employ of Concrete:” Body versus Stone and HeightThe “relentless employ of concrete” (R-B) in the Barbican Estate and Trellick Tower determined our physical interactions with these Brutalist objects. Our attention was first directed towards texture: rough, abrasive, sharp, frictive. Raw concrete’s potential to damage skin, should one fall or brush too hard against it, made our bodies vulnerable. Simultaneously, the ubiquitous grey colour and the constant cold anaesthetised our senses.As we continued to explore, the constant presence of concrete, metal gratings, wire, and reinforced glass affected our real and imagined corporeal potentialities. Bodies are powerless against these materials, such that, in these buildings, you can only go where you are allowed to go by design, and there are no other options.Conversely, the strength of concrete also has a corporeal manifestation through a sense of increased physical security. To R, standing within the “concrete fortress” of the Barbican Estate, the object offered “security, elevation, sanctuary,” and even “power” (R-B).The heights of the Barbican’s towers (123 metres) and Trellick Tower (93 metres) were physically overwhelming when first encountered. We both felt that these menacing, jagged towers dominated our bodies.Excerpt from R’s journal (Trellick Tower)Gaining access to the apartment, we begin to explore from room to room. As we proceed through to the main living area we spot the balcony and I am suddenly aware that, in a short space of time, I had abandoned the knowledge that some 26 floors lay below me. My balance is again shaken and I dig my heels into the laminate flooring, as if to achieve some imaginary extra purchase.What are the consequences of extreme height on the body? Certainly, there is the possibility of a lethal fall and those with vertigo or who fear heights would feel uncomfortable. We discovered that height also affects physical instantiation in many other ways, both empowering and destabilising.Distance from ground-level bustle contributed to a profound silence and sense of calm. Areas of intermediate height, such as elevated communal walkways, enhanced our sensory abilities by granting the advantage of observation from above.Extreme heights, however, limited our ability to sense the outside world, placing objects beyond our range of visual focus, and setting up a “bizarre segregation” (R-T) between our physical presence and that of the rest of the world. Height also limited potentialities of movement: no longer self-sufficient, we depended on a working lift to regain access to the ground and the rest of the city. In the lift itself, our bodies passively endured a cycle of opposing forces as we plummeted up or down numerous storeys in mere seconds.At both locations, N noticed how extreme height altered her relative body size: for example, “London looks really small. I have become huge compared to the tiny city” (N-B). As such, the building’s lift could be likened to a cake or potion from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland. This illustrates how the heuristics that we use to discern visual perspective and object size, which are determined by the environment in which we live (Segall et al.), can be undermined by the unusual scales and distances found in Brutalist structures.Excerpt from N’s journal (Barbican Estate)Warning: These buildings give you AFTER-EFFECTS. On the way home, the size of other buildings seems tiny, perspectives feel strange; all the scales seem to have been re-scaled. I had to become re-used to the sensation of travelling on public trains, after travelling in the tower lifts.We both experienced perceptual after-effects from the disproportional perspectives of Brutalist spaces. Brutalist structures thus have the power to affect physical sensations even when the body is no longer in direct interaction with them!“Challenge to Privacy:” Intersubjective Ideals in Brutalist DesignAs embodied beings, our corporeal manifestations are the primary transducers of our interactions with other people, who in turn contribute to our own body schema construction (Joas). Architects of Brutalist habitats aimed to create residential utopias, but we found that the impact of their designs on intersubjective corporeality were often incoherent and contradictory. Brutalist structures positioned us at two extremes in relation to the bodies of others, forcing either an uncomfortable intersection of personal space or, conversely, excessive separation.The confined spaces of the lifts, and ubiquitous narrow, low-ceilinged corridors produced uncomfortable overlaps in the personal space of the individuals present. We were fascinated by the design of the flat in Trellick Tower, where the large kitchen window opened out directly onto the narrow 27th-floor corridor, as described in N’s journal. This enforced a physical “challenge to privacy” (R-T), although the original aim may have been to promote a sense of community in the “streets in the sky” (Moran 615). The inter-slotting of hundreds of flats in Trellick Tower led to “a multitude of different cooking aromas from neighbouring flats” (R-T) and hence a direct sensing of the closeness of other people’s corporeal activities, such as eating.By contrast, enormous heights and scales constantly placed other people out of sight, out of hearing, and out of reach. Sharp-angled walkways and blind alleys rendered other bodies invisible even when they were near. In the Barbican Estate, huge concrete columns, behind which one could hide, instilled a sense of unease.We also considered the intersubjective interaction between the Brutalist architect-designer and the inhabitant. The elements of futuristic design—such as the “spaceship”-like pods for lift buttons in Cromwell Tower (N-B)—reconstruct the inhabitant’s physicality as alien relative to the Brutalist building, and by extension, to the city that commissioned it.ReflectionsThe strength of the autoethnographic approach is also its limitation (Chang 54); it is an individual’s subjective perspective, and as such we cannot experience or represent the full range of corporeal effects of Brutalist designs. Corporeal experience is informed by myriad factors, including age, body size, and ability or disability. Since we only visited these structures, rather than lived in them, we could have experienced heightened sensations that would become normalised through familiarity over time. Class dynamics, including previous residences and, importantly, the amount of choice that one has over where one lives, would also affect this experience. For a full perspective, further data on the everyday lived experiences of residents from a range of different backgrounds are necessary.R’s reflectionDespite researching Brutalist architecture for years, I was unprepared for the true corporeal experience of exploring these buildings. Reading back through my journals, I'm struck by an evident conflict between stylistic admiration and physical uneasiness. I feel I have gained a sympathetic perspective on the notion of residing in the structures day-to-day.Nevertheless, analysing Brutalist objects through a corporeal perspective helped to further our understanding of the experience of living within them in a way that abstract thought could never have done. Our reflections also emphasise the tension between the physical and the psychological, whereby corporeal struggle intertwines with an abstract, aesthetic admiration of the Brutalist objects.N’s reflectionIt was a wonderful experience to explore these extraordinary buildings with an inward focus on my own physical sensations and an outward focus on my body’s interaction with others. On re-reading my journals, I was surprised by the negativity that pervaded my descriptions. How does physical discomfort and alienation translate into cognitive pleasure, or delight?ConclusionBrutalist objects shape corporeality in fundamental and sometimes contradictory ways. The range of visual and somatosensory experiences is narrowed by the ubiquitous use of raw concrete and metal. Materials that damage skin combine with lethal heights to emphasise corporeal vulnerability. The body’s movements and sensations of the external world are alternately limited or extended by extreme heights and scales, which also dominate the human frame and undermine normal heuristics of perception. Simultaneously, the structures endow a sense of physical stability, security, and even power. By positioning multiple corporealities in extremes of overlap or segregation, Brutalist objects constitute a unique challenge to both physical privacy and intersubjective potentiality.Recognising these effects on embodied being enhances our current understanding of the impact of Brutalist residences on corporeal sensation. This can inform the future design of residential estates. Our autoethnographic findings are also in line with the suggestion that Brutalist structures can be “appreciated as challenging, enlivening environments” exactly because they demand “physical and perceptual exertion” (Sroat). 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