East Sussex : Harebeating Mill

This is really the story of a mill that isn’t. Like many former windmills these days, Harebeating Mill, in Hailsham, is no longer a functioning mill; in fact, it’s not even a mill but a private house, with only the round brick base still remaining. The wooden upper storeys, while echoing in their style the original lines of the mill, are a thoroughly modern addition.

And even that brick roundhouse is not in its original location. The publication Hailsham in old picture postcards (M. Alder, European Library, Netherlands, 1984) includes an old photo of the windmill with the following caption:

This post mill, known as Kenwards or Upper Mill, was in a field at the rear of the Methodist Church. In August 1869 it was bought by Robert Thomas Martin and four months later the miller, John Grove Kenward, became enmeshed in the machinery and was killed. Mr. Martin was extremely distressed by the accident and he more or less gave away the windmill on the understanding it was taken down and removed. So it passed into the ownership of George Weller who dismantled and re-erected it on top of a two-storey roundhouse at Harebeating Lane, renaming it Harebeating Mill. The four shuttered sweeps had a span of over seventy feet. The sweeps were removed in 1918 and in 1934 the smock tower collapsed. The brick roundhouse, however, still survives.

Copyright prevents me from including any old images here but, for the curious amongst you, there are several online on the Mills Archive website. There’s a particularly good image taken around 1918 here, and a photo here from the 1940s-50s, by which time the mill was in a very dilapidated state.  

As you might expect, when I recently walked down Harebeating Lane to see this former mill, I also wondered about the name ‘Harebeating’. The residents obviously believe it relates to the mammal and have taken it to heart: one of the farms is named after it, there were sculptures of hares sitting on cottage windowsills, and two of the houses sported images of hares on weathervanes on their rooftops.

Online research wasn’t producing any answers so I asked on Twitter if anyone knew the origin of ‘harebeating’. One local birder tagged a few other birders in the local area and they all wondered, as I had, if the term referred in some way to hare coursing, the now-illegal blood sport where dogs were used to hunt down hares.

Fortunately, one of the birders also referred me to Richard Goldsmith, of the Hailsham Historical & Natural History Society, and Richard has been extremely helpful. Even more fortunately, Richard doesn’t believe the name harebeating has anything to do with hare coursing or, indeed, anything to do with hares. He was able to tell me that ‘The map of 1812 drawn to record the “Wastelands of Michelham Park Gate” shows its name as “Herring Green”’, though he warns that may have been the map maker’s interpretation of what he was told in very broad Sussex!

Richard went on to provide me with this explanation of the name from Judith Glover’s book Sussex Place Names (Countryside Books, Newbury, 1997):

Sussex has some unusual looking names, and Harebeating is surely one of the more curious. Its history is a little odd too, because it actually began as the name of a place some ten miles away at Piddinghoe, recorded during the sixteenth century as Harpetinge – alias “Harpingdene at Piddinghoo”. The place is now lost, but it was originally the tribal territory of a Saxon group called the Herebeorhtingas – Herebeorht’s people. The Domesday book lists it in 1086 as Herbertinges, and in 1211 it’s Herebertingas. By the time it became extinct, the name had become Harpingden, and the original tribal Harebeating form already transferred to what had been part of its manor lands since the Norman Conquest.

As Richard said in his email, this ‘is probably the nearest we are going to get to the original meaning of the name Harebeating.’ My sincere thanks to Richard for his assistance in trying to discover the source of this fascinating name, and to the local tweeters who offered suggestions and pointed me in Richard’s direction.

Bandstands : Penarth

Penarth is privileged to have two bandstands though one of them isn’t really a bandstand, more of a shelter from the rain or a covered place to sit. Let’s start with that one, which is in Penarth’s Alexandra Park.

This structure was installed in 1994 and actually replaced a wooden shelter that had previously stood in the same position but had been removed sometime in the 1950s.

The new construction is certainly elegant – I like the fine lines of its supporting posts but, unfortunately, it is no substitute for the original bandstand that once stood slightly further down the sloping site. You can see an old postcard of the original bandstand and wooden shelter on the Penarth Dock website here and a couple more old images on the same website here – note the amazing view at that time: it has since been obscured by growing trees and tall beach-side apartment buildings.   

The only real bandstand remaining in Penarth is the Victorian structure, shown above, in Windsor Gardens. Amazingly, it is the original bandstand, which probably explains why it is looking rather shabby these days.

The Penarth Parks website provides little information about this structure, except to quote an extract from the 1903 publication Mate’s Illustrated Penarth (W. Mate & Sons, Bournemouth):

There is a fine band stand, or shelter, and occasionally al fresco concerts are given, and sometimes of an evening the Gardens are gaily illuminated.

So, I looked back through the old Welsh newspapers to try to find more information. I found a reference to a Penarth Local Board meeting, held on 3 April 1894, at which a request for a band stand to be erected on the Promenade, made by the Cardiff Military Band, was considered and rejected. But, obviously, some people thought the idea had merit because I then came across the advertisement (shown at right), in the Barry Docks News of 20 July 1894, just 3½ months later.

The Windsor Gardens bandstand was duly opened on 25 July 1894. Here’s the following day’s rather brief report from the South Wales Daily News:

ILLUMINATION OF THE WINDSOR GARDENS, PENARTH.
GRAND MILITARY CONCERT.
Through the courtesy of Col. H. 0. Fisher, the band of the 2nd Glamorgan Artillery Volunteers, under the able oonductorship of Mr Paul Draper, gave a first-class military concert Wednesday night, in the Penarth Gardens. The occasion was the opening of new band stand, which is octagonal in shape, 20ft. in diameter, copper roofed, and recently erected by Lord Windsor, at a cost of £200. There were quite 1,500 to 1,600 present to witness the fairy-like appearance of the grounds, which were magnificently illuminated by Richardson and Company, Cardiff, with thousands of coloured lamps and Japanese lanterns. It is intended to continue a weekly (Wednesday) series of promenade concerts.

It almost sounds like the illuminations were more newsworthy than the band music, and, indeed, the trend for romantic illuminations continued. This is from the Penarth Chronicle and District Advertiser of 10 August 1895:

A RARE MUSICAL ATTRACTION.
It has been left to private enterprise, in which however, the Estate has made important concessions, to give a fillip to the town's attractions by the series of nightly concerts now taking place in these charmingly situated grounds. To get Penarth to take an interest in herself is almost a Gargantuan undertaking, and it is therefore but a verification of this fact that these concerts have hitherto been but sparsely attended. There is nevertheless a rare musical treat nightly provided, and one has only to go once, to wish to go again. The artistes are of undeniable distinction in the musical world, the proof whereof it is easy and withal pleasant to verify by going to hear them.
On Bank Holiday, the weather unfortunately precluded a large attendance, but on Wednesday the numbers were more gratifying. The Orchestra gave magnificent renditions ... interspersed by solo singing by Miss Kate Hullett, G.S.M., whose classic and soulful rendering of "Kathleen Marvour neen” (amongst others), evoked pleasing applause. This soprano, although unused to al fresco singing, is heard quite 150 yards away and has a beautifully timbred, resonant, rich and mellow voice. The instrumental executants, par excellence, are Master Wm. H. Holden, and Master Chas. Holden, whose unique performances on the violin and cornet, respectively, are worth going a long way to hear.
To heighten the attraction, portions of the gardens are illuminated with fairy lamps, and guaranteed propitious atmospherical conditions, promenaders cannot fail to be charmed by the sense of sound and sight. The former almost goes without saying, and the latter is assured by the marine panorama below of gliding lights and shimmering waters. Such was it on Wednesday at any rate ...
If, then, any sentimental lad or lassie wish to test the veracity of this picture, let them hie themselves thither; and if the staid paterfamilias and his spouse desire to conjure up the courting days of yore let them also thither go – but, remember, Luna must be shining. Failing this fickle luminary one will then be repaid by the stars in the bandstand. Knowing the exclusiveness, the cliqueism and the setism of Penarth, the promoters of these Concerts have wisely determined not to impinge upon these idiosyncrasies and so have charged threepence for admission.

These days the bandstand is rarely used for its original purpose – in fact, such events are so rare as to be newsworthy: here’s a link to an article in the Penarth News of 12 July 2014, reporting on a concert being held ‘after a gap of many years’. It seems such a shame to me that this wonderful old bandstand isn’t better maintained and used – I rather fancy the idea of promenading through gardens illuminated by fairy lamps while listening to magnificent musical renditions.

East Sussex : Rottingdean Windmill

On Wednesday 15 August my friend Jill and I set off on a walk to Rottingdean Windmill – its silhouette can just be seen on the hill in the top left of my photo. We could actually have parked much closer but where’s the fun in that? Instead, we parked near Brighton Marina and walked along the undercliff path to the charming little town of Rottingdean.

After recharging our batteries with tea and cake, we enjoyed a stroll around the town (taking a turn in Rudyard Kipling’s walled garden, marvelling at the Burne-Jones stained glass windows in St Margaret’s Church). From the village green, we could see the windmill on the horizon – time to climb that hill!

We huffed and puffed up a very steep Rottingdean street, turned a corner and there across the meadow of the Beacon Hill Nature Reserve was the mill.

Built on Beacon Hill in 1802, this smock mill ground corn into flour until sometime in the 1880s but, as you can tell from the fact that its sweeps are now empty, it no longer functions. The sweeps are turned from time to time though, as part of the regular maintenance of the building. The old photo of the mill is taken from the signboard at the site - I like how the figure of the man in the doorway gives an idea of the mill's size.

Although this sign on the side of the mill says that William Nicholson’s drawing of this windmill became the colophon for the Heinemann publishing company, that may not necessarily be true. The Rottingdean Preservation Society now looks after this structure and on their website (which provides a detailed history of the mill), it states that the Heinemann logo actually shows a post mill, whereas this is a smock mill - the silhouette is different

A couple of closer shots of the mill structure. The mill is made of wood that has been covered with tar to protect it against the weather.

We continued our walk along the trails that run through the nature reserve. Looking back towards the mill, you can see how close to the sea it is, and how exposed the site is to wild winds and stormy weather. It’s a testament to the Preservation Society that ‘well over 100 years since it last ground corn for the village, this mill still remains a landmark for all to see and enjoy.’