A Tribute To Alfred Watkins; Part Four..

The 17th Century St Giles chapel as it now stands on St.Owen Street.

The corner of Ledbury Road and St.Owen Street where St.Giles Chapel used to stand, it used to protrude well out into the junction. As recorded by Alfred Watkins and his camera and the Hereford Times in 1927 the chapel was relocated to it's present position in St.Owen Street in the picture above this one.

This plaque reads "The stones below are part of the walls of the twelfth century round chapel of Saint Giles. Found in 1927 when demolishing the chapel of 1682"

During excavation in 1927 the foundations of a round church were discovered, it was hoped they could be preserved. This was not possible, but Watkins managed to persuade the city surveyor to design the new boundary wall of the gardens, to sit on an arc of the old foundation some thirteen feet in length. The plaque is under this wooden bench.

Detail from the alms houses.

Alfred Watkins was the chairman of the executive committee responsible for the erection of the county and city War Memorial which selected this Eleanor Cross. In the 1934 guide book for the Old House he wrote of the pigeons which "were turned out of the Old House in 1872, but found shelter in the belfry of St Peter's Church....Once a year the birds gather for a memorable occasion. The appointed hour of the morning of Armistice Day is near, the people are drifting towards the war memorial cross in St. Peter's Square. The sound of prayer and hymn is heard; it is an unusual item in bird-life; and these town pigeons are assembled in ranks of expectation on the tower parapet. There is a hush around the cross, broken by the deep signal boom of the maroon, when the birds rise with startled unison in one swoop of curved formation and loud clapping of wings. In the two minutes' silence they quietly come back for the second signal, and with the dispersing crowd they too depart, not again to gather at this vantage point untill, in a year's time, there comes once more the eleventh day of the eleventh month."

The Grapes on the corner of East Street was part of the Watkins-Imperial Brewery.

The only sign of the Watkins legacy to be seen in Hereford today.

A fisherman in-front of the Hereford Rowing Club established in 1861 which Watkins joined in 1878, and became vice-president in 1901.

Also part of the Watkins-Imperial Brewery.

This was the Maidenhead Inn in Eign Street, part of the Watkins Chain.

This wa the site of the Three Crowns again on Eign Street, also part of the Watkins brewery.

Once the site of Lloyds bank, the restoration of this building was organised by the Old House Committee of which Watkins was one of it's leading member's. It was he who wrote the first guide to the building which contained ten of his own photographs, published in June 1934.

Rememberance Parade in Leominster.

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares(2) we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest(3) began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots(4) 
Of tired, outstripped(5) Five-Nines(6) that dropped behind.
Gas!(7) Gas! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets(8) just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime(9) . . .
Dim, through the misty panes(10) and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering,(11) choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud(12) 
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest(13) 
To children ardent(14) for some desperate glory,
The old Lie; Dulce et Decorum est
Pro patria mori.(15)

Wilfred Owen
8 October 1917 - March, 1918

Note; The Latin at the end of the poem means "The old Lie; It is sweet and right to die for your country.