A chance find

The South elevation, now the front wall has been demolished

I heard a funny story this week. One of Professor Brown’s healthcare professional was over this week tending to him. She has many clients in Betley village, and she told me that locals have dubbed the big yellow crane ‘The New Betley Monument’. Evidently, our yellow giant had become the subject of local talk and speculation as to what is happening at the Court. The crane and its operators have now finished the first phase of demolition and repairs, and have left Betley Court for the time being, so I’m afraid there is now a large space where it used to be. I expect our ‘New Betley Monument’ will be missed!

Big Yellow Crane - or 'Betley's New Monument' as locals have dubbed!

The departure of the contractors has left Betley Court looking tidier, if a little forlorn.  All remaining bits of the roofs have been dropped, and loose brick and lintels removed where unsafe. Sadly, several internal walls were deemed too unsafe, and have been demolished. It has left the main part of the house looking truly gutted, and driven home (as if it needed to be!) how terribly destructive the fire was. The Brown family home, gone. It’s the saddest I’ve felt since the initial shock after the fire in August.

Our famous horizontal chimney, clear to see, now all the roof has been removed

The Peace Garden has been flattened, and will need a lot of tender loving care in the spring to return it to its former glory. But first, we’ll need to decide what access any further construction workers will need before its worth doing any horticultural rehabilitation.

The Peace Garden, after the Big Yellow Crane went, a quagmire!

I hope our former residents, Graham, Suzanne and Carol, who all gardened that area of the grounds aren’t too upset when they see it!

During the final bits of demolition, one of our handymen, Shane came across a wad of family photographs, fused together by the heat of the flames, and then soaked, first by Staffordshire Fire Brigade, then the British weather. Given they were largely ruined, I thought I had nothing to lose by soaking them, and then prising them apart, to see what could be salvaged.

A burnt packet of photographs, along with personal correspondence

The art school-grad in me found the heat damage to some images, fascinating, the film emulsion corrupting into psychedelic patterns and hues.

Kitchen sink photographic rescue centre

The girlfriend/wife/mother in me found the surviving glimpses into family life from twenty-plus years ago profoundly emotional. A picture of Nigel, at about the same age our son is now, their unmistakable shared smile. Both my beloved late Granny Wagner and my mother-in-law, Freda made an appearance in a couple of the photos too, as if to say, ‘we’re watching over you. Its OK’.