BACKLOG Chapter 3 – Abingdon

At last it comes time (going in reverse of course) to show off my new little town, in the daylight! Well first let me give you a little history of the market town of Abingdon.

Abingdon was occupied in prehistoric times by settlers of the Bronze and Iron ages. It was a flourishing town in the Roman period, which in turn gave way to a Saxon settlement. The earliest documents tell of a hamlet called Sevekesham sited at a ford of the Thames. Hean, nephew of King Cissa was granted land for founding a Benedictine monastery called Abbandun (Hill of Ebba) at the same time as his sister Cilla founded the Nunnery of Helnestowe on or near St Helens Church, the principal church in 675AD. When Henry VIII dissolved the monasteries in 1538, Abingdon Abbey was the 6th richest in Britain.
The Monday market has existed since 1556. The Michaelmas Fair (now known as the Ock Fair) was originally a 'hiring mart' for those seeking employment.*

Abingdon is supposedly the oldest town in Britain, though a few other places also claim that honor. Basically the town is OLD. There are some ruins in the middle of a park and one near the library (pictures of those to come later) that attest to the age of this quaint little overgrown village. But for now I shall present to you what images I have been able to catch, so let the viewing begin…

*Courtesy of Oxtowns.co.uk, also see Wikipedia.

View of Market Square and St. Nicholas church (this was where the festival rides were from the last entry)

Looking down the little strip mall, the heart of shopping in Abingdon. Unfortunately I think they tore down whatever beautiful architecture was here and redeveloped the lot in this not-so-classic 1970’s style… progress sucks sometimes.

County Hall, built in 1678/82, it was once the home of local government now turned museum. A rather interesting sight is watching local dignitaries throwing buns from the roof of the building for crowds in the market square during days of celebration – they even have examples of the types of buns thrown in the museum itself. Very strange…

4 East Saint Helen Street, home to me and Darren, the little window front was the Little Basement Museum but has since been closed due to safety reasons... don’t worry Darren and I are safe as we live 46 steps up through the heart of the building, residing in the spacious attic flat. (Translation – we live in a tower and with my hair growing longer by the minute, I’m beginning to feel like Rapunzel.)

View from our living room window – the only one that isn’t a skylight that is.

A beautiful set of lilies presented to me from Darren the day I returned to him!

One red rose was given as well, placed romantically so on the bed next to welcome home presents and a poem – She Walks in Beauty by Lord Byron.