High on green hillsides overlooking the village of Fovant in Wiltshire, a dozen giant logos – some more than 50 metres across – can be seen carved into the chalk.

These designs date back to the first world war, when Fovant and the surrounding villages housed a transit camp for troops en route to and from the battlefields of the Western Front in France. In memory of fallen colleagues (and, no doubt, simply as a huge “Kilroy Was Here“), soldiers from various regiments painstakingly created representations of their cap badges.

Originally, there were many more badges, but nobody is quite sure how many have since faded away beneath the grass. Today, 12 remain, of which eight have been “adopted” for preservation by the Fovant Badges Society (due to lack of funds, four of them will not be saved).

The largest group of badges – nine of them – can be found on Fovant Down (they appear upside down on the aerial photos as they are carved on a north-facing hillside). They represent:

1. The Royal Wiltshire Yeomanry. 2. The YMCA (which was an important provider of welfare services in the transit camps).

3. 6th Battalion, The City of London Regiment. 4. The Australian Imperial Force badge (the “Rising Sun”).

5. The Royal Corps of Signals. 6. The Wiltshire Regiment.

7. The London Rifle Brigade. 8. The Post Office Rifles.

9. The Devonshire Regiment.

All these (with the exception of the YMCA) will be preserved.

Further badges, which sadly will be left to fade away, can be seen on nearby Compton Down and Sutton Down:

10. An enormous map of Australia, carved by unknown soldiers from Down Under. 11. The Royal Warwickshire Regiment.

12. 7th Battalion, City of London Regiment.

Although the transit camps are long gone, there are still signs of a military presence in the area. The excellent Secret Bases website reveals that these mysterious shapes among the trees are the Fovant Wood Ordnance Depot, a munitions storage area for the nearby RAF base at Chilmark. That base closed down in the mid-1990s, although rumour has it that top secret goings-on still occur in and around the disused quarries…

Read more at the Fovant Badges Society website.

The humble red telephone kiosk is a much loved British icon, thanks to a long history on the streets of the United Kingdom. Today there are a fraction of the number there once were, but they are still a common enough sight that we can find some interesting ones to visit.

K2 model telephone boxes behind Enzo Plazzotta’s bronze, “Young Dancer”, on Broad Street, Covent Garden, London

The first recognisably “modern” red phone box was designed for a competition that the General Post Office held in 1924 to find a kiosk deemed acceptable to those London Boroughs that had refused to allow the erection of the previous K1 kiosks.

The winning entry, the K2, was designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott¹ and from 1926 was erected all over London. Scott had suggested they be built from steel and painted silver, but the Post Office decided to make the K2 in cast iron, and to paint it red.

K2 at Carfax Tower, Oxford

In 1929 the K3 was introduced, and although it was again designed by Gilbert Scott, this time they were painted cream. Like the K2 they were too expensive for widespread deployment, meaning that very few survive today, and as far as I can tell, there are none on street view. Instead here’s a picture of the only surviving K3 in Scotland.

The K4 model was designed by the Post Office, which isn’t surprising when you learn it had a post box and a stamp machine stuck on the back. Apparently phone users complained about the noise from the stamp machines so only 50 were ever made, and today only six of those survive. One of the surviving six is this one in Whitley Bay, Tyne and Wear, which despite being hidden under a tree, I managed to spot using Bing Maps.

The K5 was a plywood kiosk for temporary use, so it was for the K6 model that the Post Office returned to Sir Giles Gilbert Scott for his skills. Designed in 1935 to commemorate the silver jubilee of King George V, the K6 was the first red kiosk to be used extensively outside of London, and thousands were deployed in virtually every town and city. By the time production ceased on the K6, there were nearly 70,000 across the UK.

K6, Regent Road, Edinburgh. Grade II listed.

K6 (with traffic cone), Jowett Walk, Oxford. Grade II listed.

The K7 model by Neville Conder never went to production, so it was up to Bruce Martin to carry on the fine tradition that Scott had begun, and in 1968 the true successor to the K6 was finally launched. Used mostly for new locations, the K8 was a slightly different shade of red, had a flatter roof, and only one big window on each side.

According to The Twentieth Century Society, today only twelve of the original K8s remain in working order², two of which are installed on the east side of the Erskine Bridge, just west of Glasgow.

Coinciding with the privatisation in 1984 of the Post Office’s telephone successor, British Telecom, a more utilitarian design of telephone box began to be introduced.

The classic K6 was widely replaced with the frankly hideous KX100, and basically we’ve all been complaining about it ever since. In the late 90s, BT made an attempt to win the public over to the KX range by introducing the KXPlus which is basically a KX100 with a red bar round the sides and a domed red roof. It didn’t work.

With the introduction of the KX100, around 2,000 existing boxes were given listed status, several thousand others were left in rural locations, but many more were sold off privately.

Lots of K6s have recently been restored and reinstalled in key tourism spots, but even more have been put to other uses; ranging from shower cubicles in private homes, through to this massive sculpture in Kingston upon Thames made of 12 tumbling boxes, entitled Out of Order.

There are several companies who specialise in selling and restoring old phone boxes, including Unicorn Kiosks, who are responsible for this 12-foot-tall custom kiosk in Maida Vale, London.

So if you’re one of the many fans of the classic red phone box, you’ve now got no excuse not to come up with a creative way to save a piece of Britain’s heritage, you’d just have to do is decide what to do with it!

Of course there are many more phone boxes around the world… have you got one near you?

For helping me research this post, many thanks go to Robert Ore of redphonebox.info, headington.org.uk, and www.cvphm.org.

This rather innocuous-looking bridge over the River Thames is the latest in a long line of bridges to stand on this spot and lay claim to the name London Bridge.

This current bridge opened in 1973, but a bridge has existed at or near this very spot since the Roman occupation of the area, around 2,000 years ago. There were a number of bridges during this time, but it wasn’t until 1209 that a truly great bridge was erected.

The Medieval London Bridge took a seriously lengthy 33 years to build, but it would have been pretty impressive in its day, as it was completely covered in shops set in the base of buildings seven stories tall!

For 600 years the Medieval bridge was a bustling and relatively safe haven in the centre of London, but eventually it was decided that it was too old, narrow and decrepit¹ to serve Londoners any longer, and that it should be replaced.

In 1799 Thomas Telford proposed a bridge with a single iron arch that would span the entire river, but it was rejected due to worries about feasibility. The bridge that was finally completed in 1831 was built 30 m west of the Medieval one, and was designed by Scots civil engineer John Rennie.

By 1896 the “New” London bridge had become the busiest point in London (with around 9,000 people crossing every hour), so it was widened by 4 metres to combat the acute congestion. On the disused railway track at the old Swelltor Quarry on Dartmoor, you can still see left over granite pillars that were quarried as part of this process, but never used.

Unfortunately the bridge couldn’t cope with the extra weight – after widening, it began to sink by about 3 cm every 8 years, meaning that yet another new bridge would be required.

However, instead of knocking the bridge down, in 1967 the City of London council hit upon the brilliant idea of putting the bridge up for sale; and on 18 April 1968, Rennie’s bridge was sold to the American entrepreneur Robert P. McCulloch of McCulloch Oil for $2.4m dollars, and subsequently moved, brick-by-brick to Lake Havasu City, Arizona.

The story goes that McCulloch mistakenly believed he was buying (the frankly much more desirable) Tower Bridge, but of course this has been vehemently denied. Regardless, the reconstructed London Bridge forms the centrepiece of a English-style theme park that has since become Arizona’s second most popular tourist attraction, being only less-visited than the Grand Canyon.

(London Bridge was previously featured back in 2006 before the advent of Street View).

This year’s Glastonbury Festival of Contemporary Performing Arts drew 177,000 party people to deepest Somerset, reaffirming Glastonbury’s position as the largest greenfield music and performing arts festival in the world.

Some went for the music. Some went for the mud. A few might even have gone for Bruce Springsteen – but no doubt a good (if slightly damp) time was had by all.

Despite its name, the festival is not actually held in Glastonbury, but at Worthy Farm in the village of Pilton, some six miles to the east.¹ Google’s aerial photos clearly weren’t taken at the end of June, as they reveal a remarkably unsullied rural scene – the site is still a working dairy farm. The famous Pyramid Stage is missing, but the foundations (and surrounding dried mud) can clearly be seen, as can the electricity pylons that cross the site.

Of the second stage (known, with a great deal of imagination, as the Other Stage), there is no sign at all – it is situated here, in a peaceful-looking field. (If you squint a bit, perhaps you can just make out a vague dark semicircular area.)

Near the southern edge of the site, you can see the stone circle, a favourite hippy hangout that was built for the festival by a druid, no less.

“Glasto” will be 40 years old next year, but it remains a brief annual blip of madness in the Worthy Farm routine. Once the music is over, the stages dismantled, the last hungover revellers departed and the vast quantities of rubbish cleaned up, Pilton’s cows can once again live in peace – until next time.

It’s interesting to compare this map of this year’s festival site to the aerial photos, so you can see what happened where.

Thanks to Barry.

One of the most picturesque villages found in the Peak District National Park, Eyam is historically significant for the actions the villagers took to isolate themselves in the mid 1600s to prevent the spread of the plague despite the toll it took on their population.

Fleas in a shipment of cloth brought the plague to the village in 1665 with the first death happening within a week of its arrival and the disease spreading quickly to neighbouring homes, now known as the Plague Cottages.

The villagers, led by their Church ministers, enacted measures to try to restrict the spread of the disease, such as families having to bury their own dead and limiting contact with outsiders. Church services were held outdoors in Cucklett Delph, a nearby valley.

The plague killed more than 260 of the 350 people who lived in the village, with researchers unsure why some survived. Elizabeth Hancock lost her husband and six children in 8 days but did not become ill herself. The family is buried some distance from the village in a plot known as the Riley graves.

The village effectively quarantined itself, refusing any contact with people from nearby communities. Villagers developed arrangements to receive and pay for goods without meeting people from elsewhere face-to-face. Difficult to see on Google Maps, but a landmark for hikers, the Boundary Stone can be found on the footpath to Stoney Middleton. The stone has a number of holes carved in the top – villagers from Eyam would fill these with vinegar in an attempt to disinfect the coins they would leave as payment for food and medicine delivered there.

A similar arrangement took place to the north of the village at Reverend Mompesson’s well.

There is a small museum depicting the sombre history, and many landmarks have information signs for those walking around the village. Online information can be found at Wikipedia and the Eyam Plague Village site.