Foyle Style

An unexpected morning to myself last weekend turned into a perfect (and rare!) opportunity for some "me time", especially as Storm Amy laid waste to my plans to mow the lawn (so unfortunate!)  Instead I sojourned back to 1942 to watch an American "invasion" take place on the streets of Sussex, courtesy of Foyle's War.  

Yes, Mum will like this blog.

Now Foyle's War is exceptional autumn viewing, a flavourful mix of history and drama, with its intriguing plots that often land somewhere in the grey area, testing the viewers' sense of morality, of right-and-wrong.  To give a couple of examples from previous episodes, should a Nazi sympathiser be allowed to voice his opinion in a free and democratic society?  Is it ok that a murderer is allowed to go free, because his role is essential to the war effort?  This is a programme that runs deeper than a period murder mystery - it challenges us to clarify our feelings and confront our contradictions, and it exposes the truth - that right-and-wrong is never as clear-cut as black-and-white.

I digress slightly, but I think my point is that the lessons of Foyle's War are incredibly pertinent today, as our social media ages rushes to draw clear distinctions on any topic, without consideration of differing viewpoints or lived experiences.  Have a quick browse on X (the artist formerly known as Twitter) and you'll probably agree with me that we could all learn a bit from Foyle's War.

There's something else going on with Foyle, though, and beneath the complexities of the writing, there sits a central character who epitomises standards, and embodies the idea of a role model.  Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle is thoughtful, eloquent, determined, and has a strong moral compass which he uses to govern his behaviour, upholding the law and challenging corruption, often from above and in situations where it would be easier - and personally safer - to leave well alone.  He is loyal, but not to the point where he wouldn't take a friend to task if necessary, and he is thorough and tenacious, whilst simultaneously understanding the nuances of life, particularly in a time of war.  He speaks honestly to friends, truth to power, and doesn't compromise his integrity for anyone.

Then there's the clothes.  The three-piece, pure wool suit with the peak lapel jacket, most likely worn with a red silk tie (in reality probably toxic rayon, for silk was not widely available in wartime Britain, yet Foyle's ties are certainly not of knitted wool), and of course a camel wool overcoat and fedora (sometimes matching a blue suit, other times khaki). 

It is, in effect, the perfect outfit, but one I am unlikely to emulate, firstly because I am not Michael Kitchen; and secondly because, although I own suits, they are not day-to-day wear for me and my lifestyle.  So instead, I've created a couple of outfits inspired by Foyle and wartime style, but which give me scope to wear out and about in a modern way.

1. Foyle "Lite".  This is an outfit I can get on board with.  I've chosen my air force blue herringbone jacket and matching waistcoat here, a lovely two-piece that is amongst my favourites.  This sits over a plain white shirt and a tie that has some detailing, but hopefully not too loud.  For trousers, I've used navy cords, but would easily wear this with brown or biscuit; and on top, my trusty navy fedora.  I've also popped on my Grandad's Air Training Corps lapel pin.

2. The Airman.  I've been playing with this outfit for a while.  The jumper is reminiscent of the RAF cadets, but I've gone in a more comfortable direction below, again using my navy cords for the season.  Slung over the top is my Joe Brown's "military" jacket.  There's a relatively simple, almost austere feel to this look to this outfit that I quite like.  Finished off with this lovely RAF shoulder bag that only recently fell into my possession.

3. The Flying Tiger.  The biscuit button-down Oxford shirt is a classic piece in a men's wardrobe, paired with khaki cords.  On top, I've gone for this inexpensive olive chore shirt, onto which I have ironed a couple of patches to make this really individual.  There's the US Air Force star on the sleeve, and on the left breast pocket a little tribute to the Flying Tigers, an incredible group of American volunteer pilots who, under the command of Claire Lee Chennault, defended the skies of China from the Empire of Japan, in one of the war's most extraordinary stories.  Worth looking that man up, if you get a moment.

So, a little bit of the wartime spirit coming through here, but with enough style - I think - to wear out in the everyday.  Hopefully the man below would approve... or is he simply laughing at me?

Viroconium Cornoviorum

Haha, fooled you! Did you really think I was going to blog about the archaeology of Shropshire and not mention the Roman city at Wroxeter?  Come on now... this is me!

Pictured below is "The Old Work".  And just behind that is a pile of Roman ruins.

Seriously though, the Old Work is one of the stand-out ruins of Roman Britain.  In its heyday it was the north wall of the bathhouse, specifically the frigidarium or "cold room", one of the many rooms set aside for public bathing in the town centre.  Every major Roman town had a public bathhouse, but few survive to the same extent of Wroxeter (let's exclude the complicated situation at Bath from this statement!)  

It is also a place to which I have been trying to get for a number of years.  When I was a student (yes, that long ago), I put a ring around the three Roman places I most wanted to see - Verulamium; the Wall; and Wroxeter.  So it is with a touch of emotion that I allowed my hand to rest on the ruined wall here, because I've completed something of a long-held ambition, and I want to savour the moment and affirm the special memory I've created, when the rhythm of my heartbeat chimed with the pulse of this very ancient, very special place. Lovely!

Floreat Salopia!

I'm back from the annual archaeology "residential" with Tristan, a weekend in which we fill every waking hour on all subjects historical.  It's always a great time, just two guys jumping in a car and heading north (for it is always north from here), covering all manner of subjects as we go - guy stuff; the state of the world; dad insights; sartorial thoughts; and, almost obsessively, English history.

On this latter point, Shropshire has it in spades, from prehistoric monuments to great church spires, Roman ruins to medieval monasteries.  There's too much to pack into one blog post, so let's hone in on three treasures t\upon which we stumbled this weekend, and three that should whizz to the top of your sightseeing list.

Old Oswestry Hillfort
Somewhat confusedly styled as the "Stonehenge of the Iron Age" (what the hell does that mean?!?), this one is really out on a limb, mere miles from the Welsh border, and the foreboding hills of Denbighshire.  It is, however, a rather splendid place - once a site of some status, the hillfort sits on the boundary of two Iron Age tribes, belonging either to the Ordovices, or to the Cornovii - or possibly changing hands over hundreds of years.  Significant earthwork defences surround the entire site, but are more complex towards the west (that is, the side facing the Ordovices), so I suspect this at least ended up as a Cornovii stronghold.  Within the ramparts, a large number of black sheep were peacefully grazing, a flock that is afforded one of the finest views that England has to offer, with the Welsh mountains punctuating the horizon to the west, the lowlands of Shropshire stretching out east.  In the Iron Age, the centre was home to a number of wattle-and-daub roundhouses, with pottery remains from as far away as Wiltshire suggesting that this was a place of extensive trade and power.  Prepare yourself for a drive and go for a visit - it's British prehistory at its finest.

Buildwas Abbey
Low-slung in the valley of the ever-present River Severn, this monastery was founded in 1135 as a Savignac house, before being absorbed into the Cistercian order by 1147 at the latest.  We have arrived here from nearby Wenlock Priory, a Cluniac house, and the contrast between the two could not be more stark.  Where Wenlock enjoyed fine carvings and demonstrations of artistic wealth, Buildwas is sparse, uncompromising in its simplicity, typically Cistercian in its deliberate austerity.  Yet the atmosphere that lingers here is palpable, a thick and misty presence that hangs in the airs, not unpleasant, not particularly spooky, but certainly noticeable.  The abbey was financially broke by 1342; completely broken by the Black Death in 1349; and wrecked by Welsh raiders in 1350, events from which it never really recovered. It was condemned in 1521 as "deficient in every respect", before finally being dissolved as a lesser monastery in 1536, during the Dissolution of the Monasteries.  For us, the poverty and the ruination sees the church remain in its original condition, providing some of the best-preserved Cistercian church ruins from anywhere in England, and a real window into a piece of the past.

Church of St Mary the Virgin, Shrewsbury
Speaking of windows, here's a reason to come to Shrewsbury (as if another were needed, for it is a lovely town!) I will eschew all description of the Medieval church, which was hosting a beer festival (!), and head straight for the exceptional east window, which contains a depiction of the Jesse Tree, said to have been made in Shrewsbury and transported here-and-there, before ending up at its current church in 1792.  Much of the glass - and this is the really amazing thing - is Medieval, dating from between 1327 to 1353, the very highest point of the English Gothic.  It is an extraordinary piece of art, really a national treasure, and to gaze upon it is to glimpse English history at its most stunning.  One can identify the ancestors and descendants of Jesse, the father of David, whose line can traditionally be traced down to Christ.  Extra points if anybody spots Edward III, the only royal figure on the window, who of course happened to be reigning monarch at the time of this window's creation - so we also see that playing politics is nothing new!  Interesting aside - the church spire here is thought to be the third-tallest spire in England, though I can think of plenty others that may claim that crown - can you?

A great trip to a distinctly beautiful county, a fair old drive from South Devon, but worth every mile, for Shropshire has a rich heritage, and one that it has been a pleasure to explore.  May Salop flourish indeed!

Styling the rugby jersey for Autumn

Here's something that has boomeranged back into my life - the rugby shirt.  Do I like playing rugby?  No.  Do I still have nightmares about being forced into a weekly session of violent egg-chasing back in secondary school?  Yes.  Do I like watching rugby on the TV?  Yeah, sure.  Do I love the style of a rugby jersey?  Absolutely!

Or at least I used to - but I can't actually remember the last time I wore one.  Then, staring out the window at the eighteenth consecutive day of rain-sun-rain, and wondering how I was going to dress for this new season of changeability, I had a Road to Damascus moment.  It's not cold enough for knitwear.  It's not warm enough for a shirt.  But it is classic layering season, and what better to layer up than a iconic rugby?

I should say that I love dressing for autumn, and there's definitely something of the autumn about the rugby jersey.  It's tied in deeply with the falling leaves, the worsening weather, those back to college vibes, and the start of the sporting season, a time when walking in the drizzle is a pleasure for being properly togged.  So this season, I'm going all out for the scholar-meets-sportster style.  And here are three ways I'm going to make it happen.

1.  Autumn stripes.  I love the pop of colour that a rugby shirt offers, and this rather lovely mustard / maroon / navy Cotton Traders combination embraces the changing face of the natural world.  I'm wearing this on top of a white Henley, which has a hint of yellow stitching to complement the jersey; and throwing over a half-length mack to catch the showers.  On the bottom, wine-coloured jeans.

2. An Ivy look.  I've chosen one of my favourite sporting shirts, the utterly iconic Springboks jersey, worn over a light blue striped shirt to create a comfortable layering effect.  The 'boks emblem just elevates this outfit to a new level, paired with a mid-brown herringbone jacket (one of my favourite wardrobe pieces, from the always-excellent Brook Taverner) and cords to create an informal collegiate look.  I'm off to the lecture now, then onto the rugby field.

3.  A day in Dartmouth.  One, perhaps, to wear at the annual food festival down in the South Devon town.  I'm trying to stick to a maritime palette here, with a navy check shirt that hopefully complements this lovely quartered jersey from Joules.  The jacket is Joe Brown's mock military, enough of a tribute - I hope - to relate to Dartmouth's famous naval college.  Contrasting this are my darkest indigo jeans.  Dartmouth is an autumn staple for us because of its annual food festival, a wonderful chance to explore the best food in the West, and stock up on some Christmas treats!

Three easy rugby outfits for the coming season, which should see me through the cold, the wet, the unseasonably warm, and anything in between.  And yes, while I'll try to catch a couple of the Autumn Internationals, you're unlikely to see me diving around a muddy field - I'll leave that bit to the pros!

So, it's been a while huh?

Nich About Town gets rolling again.  It has been a handful of years, I know, and much has changed since I last wrote.  To start, the baby in the previous post is now a school boy; we have a new home; I have a new job; and the world is, well, increasingly volatile.

It is time, or rather the lack of time, that halted my blogging before.  And it is time that plays upon my mind now, as I write.  Time is a funny beast - never sitting still, always pulling you onwards, a creature of incessant and infuriating energy.  One day you're cradling a brand new baby in your arms, the next he's trotting off to class in a (briefly) crisp new uniform.

Yet time also governs many of my passions, and enriches them with its impact.  My deep love of history wouldn't exist without it, and my enjoyment of the garden is only made possible with the tasting of each individual season.  The tulips of April, the poppies of June, the asters of September - would they really shine so bright in our eyes, if their moment lasted forever?

Time has also helped me to boil down what matters most to me, and where I want to focus my energies now, and into the future.  And in a sense, that's what this blog is all about - a celebration of renewed passions and more focussed interests.  So as we look ahead on here, you'll be seeing weekly posts (I hope!) on history; gardening; menswear; books; and any other general musings on what it means, in my eyes, to be a dad and raise a child.

Nich About Town is back. The hiatus is over. Let's see where it leads...