The Beasts of Bolsover

Bolsover Castle, picturesque . Shame about the owners. English Heritage are possibly the worst organised bunch of Ancient Property Lords. Don't really know where to start....

Last year we tried to see the Cavendish horses, but were told we couldn't book unless we turned up at 9 am on the day and took pot luck on seat availability at the 11am, 1pm or 3pm shows. Seriously? A tad difficult with someone in a wheelchair. So we left it and tried again this year when pre-booking was available. Eventually paid for tickets on the phone, with some difficulty as the website was hard to decipher. Got sent two tickets not three. So, 12 months later than originally planned, we arrive to be told we had to pay a further entry fee for the castle. So that was £2 each for the horses, £9.50 each for the castle. This cost had not been explained when booking. If we like we can pay an extra £4 for a guidebook. We didn't like. The girl at the entrance did a fine line in apology, at least twenty 'sorries' later we managed to find the unsignposted wheelchair-unfriendly door. (Five sorries.)

Riding School sans Riders

The weather was glorious, and off we trotted towards the riding school, full of hope for a stunning display of horsemanship.

Best Beloved tried to restrain his excitement, puzzling over which lens to attach to his camera, changing his mind, and lens, three times en route. Bless.

In the indoor riding school we were told there would be no photography allowed. None. What? Not even video, silent, no flashing? There was no mention on the website about this. Horse photography had been our main interest in coming. It was all too much for one visitor, he stood up in a rage, voiced his fury for a good two minutes and pushing his wheelchaired wife in front of him, stormed out. We didn't hear her point of view, but I'm sure she was fully supportive of hubby's decision. He didn't look the sort of chap that would have been happy with anything less. An English Heritage lass bravely announced that photos might frighten the horses, distract the riders. 'Not my fault, I just work here!' she pleaded. Maybe she thought we should complain to people who didn't work there? Oh well, mustn't frighten the horses. We sat back to enjoy the show, (not too far back, or we'd have fallen off the benches.)
It started with an actor's voiceover from somewhere behind us, for a good five minutes - surprising how hard it was to actually digest what he was saying with no visual aid in the empty arena in front of us. It is strangely disorientating to be seated in a theatre with nothing happening on stage. I tried to imagine it was like listening to the radio. Failed. At last the horses (three of them in total) came and went, mostly one at a time, and displayed their skills at turning, passaging, not crushing legs against the walls, rearing, all the things a war horse must learn in order to keep its rider and itself intact. The riders gave an intermittent running commentary which got muffled as they rode off to the far end. Our disabled friend lost most of the info in transit.

The best I can do

Fifteen minutes into the display the Voiceover said these horses wouldn't mind at all if we make a noise and applaud as loud as we want because they are used to cannon-fire and muskets. Umm? Thought they objected to silent video... Neither horses nor riders minded an incessantly screaming child. What is it about parents, and Heritage Ushers come to that, that find it acceptable to stamp on a bit of silent filming but not remove a parent with a distraught child spoiling the show for all? Afterwards we learned,  from the horses' human mouths, that the photo prohibition was more to do with image rights, tight control over us, the paying public. Control is the name of this game. Tight control over the horses too, largely done by tight buttocks. (True.)

One rider, an older man, said, 'If you want photos, look online!' He sounded bitter, a tribesman whose soul had been stolen by the voodoo of film. Possibly a Cavalier, still sulking after losing the good fight in 1649.
'It was the online photos that brought us here in the first place,' we said,  'So now the show's over, please could we take a shot of you and the horse ourselves?'
'No you can't.' Very pompous.
This was not the sort of Cavalier Attitude we had hoped for. Something more accommodating, genteel, friendly, would have been nice. Especially after paying over £30 for the privilege of seeing the three Cavaliers at all..
The horse, bless it, was better mannered and stood like a statue for forty strangers patting his nose, doubt he'd have blinked at a few photos. The Cavendish Rider's attitude was really quite bizarre, and to be honest a bit unpleasant. Left a nasty taste in the mouth. Perhaps it is a generation thing, hating YouTube, the unregulated internet, people having freedom to make pictures themselves without employing a Stubbs or Gainsborough.

Cavendish Cavalier on parade

 Manners aside, we did not doubt the skill of both human and equine participants when it came to dressage. However, showmanship - the human performance was a bit wooden - and generosity, were a little lacking. For the horse-mad non-photographers, no doubt a good show, for anyone else and people with small kids, not recommended.

There are no photos here, sorry about that, but you know who to blame. Just one sneaky shot of a marching Cavalier from the rear. No horse. Good thing he didn't spot us or we'd be in stocks by now.(Not socks, keep up.)

From the battlements over Chesterfield

Now for the castle itself: It's a good building to walk round, wonderful vistas over the Chesterfield plain from ruins, turrets, battlements.

Plenty of steps to scamper or plod up, but very few helpful signs telling you where to go, what room you are in, what is on show. Most of the grounds can be reached by wheelchair, as long as you know which path to take, although the castle itself is not accessible. We felt it very mean-spirited to only give a £1 discount for a wheelchair when you can only access half of the place, and no concession for carers except when booking to see the horses. Three cheers for English Heritage? Maybe not.

Long way down, or up

Everyone else seemed to be guided by a gizmo on their phones, and strode around knowledgeably whilst we blundered from one dead end to another.

 We asked another visitor, head buried in his phone if they had an app for the castle. Ah! Not a phone app, a free electronic guide available from the Visitors' Centre. Great! BB trudged off in search. The smiley, apologetic girl in Reception ran through her repertoire of meaningless apologies. Sorry she hadn't offered us one originally, sorry there was no advance notice of a camera ban. She probably had a degree in Apologitis. Or is that a catching disease?Either way it makes the apology vacuous since no outcome resulted.

Bright sun, electronic guide - sun wins.

The electronic guide was a nice idea, but invisible in sunlight, and ran out of battery in half an hour, so some bog-standard non-electronic signs would have been appreciated.

We asked if there was a feedback form as we handed back the dead gizmo. We had one or two small suggestions to make. Apparently not, but the lady at Reception was happy for us to provide feedback online. Let's hope she's a fan of this blog then, or she might miss it, but we've added a review to Trip Advisor as well, just in case. Be warned there is very little content in the castle, and as with the outside areas, very little info about what is there or where to find it. For the under tens it is a delightful place to romp, for those less flexible of knee, a bit frustrating to find yourself going up dead ends, into empty rooms and having to guess how to find the exit.

sunken fountain

No size zero wenches here

The best feature of all was the fountain in the castle courtyard, a curious design with a range of peeing (not peeping) cherubs and spouting (not sprouting) heads all facing into a hexagonal trough topped with a slightly chubby naked lady. You could bring a picnic and enjoy the view. Either kind.

BB took lots of photos of her, he said it made a change from all the size zero models you see these days. Memo to self: enquire exactly where he is going to photograph all these size zero models. Thought the Camera Club was more about old churches and steam engines...

Good pisser, great pot

We left feeling a little fed up with English Heritage, deciding not to pay £80 for full membership as half the pleasure of going to visit old buildings is influenced by the organisational courtesy of the owners. National Trust volunteers, for example, are always knowledgable, friendly and even know how to make signs. (No, not for the deaf, just Blue Peter card and sticky paper useful stuff.) Perhaps other English Heritage sites are better run, but we are not betting people.