The day was soggy and grey, but I felt the need to bring you a few snaps.
The quintessential English parish church, with classic examples of communications equipment from a bygone era, a phone box that works (well there was someone in it I’m assuming they were making a call!) a post box and parish notice board.
Across the road the wonderful Priest House, built circa 1448 it is now masquerading as a branch of the National West Bank (and it must be a bit of a nightmare for the estates dept of the the bank; how do you make a timber framed building with leaded lights and a grade one listed building status secure? Any how, it is a bank with character and you don’t see much of that theses days.
Apparently, during times of during times of ‘plague and sweating sickness’* the priest would deliver his sermons from the balcony, so as not to mix with the germ and flea infested throng. Services were also delivered from here during ‘The Commonwealth period’ as during this time the churches were closed. Now my historical knowledge is scant, at school we seemed to jump from colouring in pictures of Guy Fawkes, in what would now be known as the ‘reception class’ to learning about Operation PLUTO in year 12; I’m sure I must have been taught some other fascinating historical facts in between but I’m dammed if I can remember them. I’m ashamed to say I’d never heard of the Commonwealth period. So I asked the boys, all three of them, no joy, so having established it wasn’t on the time table at Mr Uhdd’s grammar school circa 1960’s, nor is it on the current national curriculum. It even took a bit of finding mousing around the Internet, but here you are The Commonwealth 1649-53
I think it is amazing that buildings like this have survived the risky, vulnerable period where they went from being the most important place in the village (aside from the church) to being old fashioned, scruffy and not as useful as newer buildings to becoming old enough and historic enough to be protected for prosperity, looking at the next shot you could imagine how it could have been consumed by the the later developments that surround it.
Today Prestbury is a very affluent village it is in the golden triangle, the area favoured by the Cheshire set, Prestbury princesses, professional footballers and their attendant WAGS, (actually overseas readers, if you are not familiar with the term WAGS, it is more of a visual thing than a Wiki thing) the main street is peppered with wine bars and restaurants and independent travel agents ( serving a customer base that has no need to scrat around on the Internet for the best deal.) That said, the current economic climate must have made a hit even here
The White House Prestbury was once a place to be seen to dine, if that’s what you were about.
*Sweating sickness, it must have been swine flu, ‘sweating like a pig’, gedit? oh never mind, I’ll go.