Great British Railway Journeys (2010–…): Season 5, Episode 17 - Ipswich to Chelmsford - full transcript
In 1840, one man
transformed travel in Britain.
His name was George Bradshaw
and his railway guides inspired
the Victorians to take to the tracks.
Stop by stop, he told them where to go,
what to see and where to stay.
And now, 170 years later,
I'm aboard for a series of rail
adventures across the United Kingdom
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
My journey continues through Suffolk.
This flat terrain produces
a big beautiful dome of sky,
and beneath it, the green land
and the rivers that run between it
are rich in food.
On this leg, I discover 19th-century
engineering was pretty sharp...
And there it goes.
And the extraordinary thing is
that a Victorian would recognise that
- because it was made in the same way.
- Absolutely.
Shell out for seafood
near Mersea Island...
Enormous. So this is the sort of oyster
that, once cleaned up,
- could appear on my plate?
- Ll certainly is.
And I'm tainted in an Essex orchard.
That's where the phrase
"caught red-handed" comes from.
The indelible stain of crime.
My journey, which began in Norwich,
continues south-west through Suffolk,
past Chelmsford in Essex,
then across the Thames at Tilbury,
through the Medway towns of Kent
and its largest port, Dover,
before moving west to Tonbridge,
down to the Sussex coast
and ending in
the cathedral city of Chichester.
Today's leg begins in Ipswich,
moves south-west to crack open the Essex
delights of Colchester and Witham,
and picks up radio waves in Chelmsford.
Bradshaw's tells me that Suffolk
"is one of the best cultivated districts
in England".
"Almost exclusively a farming county,
being conducted upon
the most improved principles."
There was innovation in agriculture
long before the Industrial Revolution,
and East Anglia was in the forefront.
Set on the bank of the Orwell estuary,
Ipswich, one of England's oldest towns,
has been an important trading centre
since the Saxons settled here.
It became one of the richest ports
in medieval England,
and thrived on shipbuilding.
When the railways arrived in Ipswich
in 1846,
they ran to the new docks,
from where the town's iron goods and
farm machinery could be moved easily
to customers around the country.
Here I am at Ipswich,
which Bradshaw's tells me
is a port borough town
and capital of Suffolk.
And then it tells me that,
"Ransome and Sims
machine and agricultural
implement works cover 14 acres."
Could that be instrumental in
the agricultural improvement
that Bradshaw's tells me about?
Founded in 1789 by Robert Ransome
during the agrarian revolution,
Ransomes of Ipswich has been making
agricultural equipment ever since.
The company was
originally situated at the docks,
where it also built its
own railway sidings.
I'm keen to find out lust how
important Ransomes was
to the economy oi Ipswich
in Bradshaw's day.
Richard Comely is
the company's marketing director.
- Hello, Michael. Welcome.
- Very good to see you.
Thank you.
Bradshaw's tells me that Ransomes
and Sims covered an area of 14 acres.
That's in 1864,
it must have been enormous.
(Richard)
Some 3,500 people were employed here,
making ploughs, mowing machinery,
all kinds of agricultural equipment.
In 1832, Ransomes won the licence
to manufacture a brand-new product.
Engineer Edwin Budding's invention,
based on the napping of cloth
in cotton mills,
would revolutionise
19th-century gardening.
So until such time as
the mower came along,
people were cutting grass with scythes
and that had limitations,
especially with short grass.
What's the breakthrough
about the lawnmower?
So the principle is we have these
rotating blades that are in a spiral
and then we have a bed knife
which is the stationary part
that the rotating blades rotate against.
The reason they're in a spiral is
to feed the power in more evenly
and to eliminate the kind of
chopping motion you would get
if the blades were
all in straight lines.
This is fundamentally
what Budding invented.
That is a fantastic thought, isn't it?
That a fellow came up with this idea,
what, 180 years ago
- and it's recognisable to this day.
- Exactly.
In 1867, the company produced
more than a thousand lawnmowers.
And royal recognition followed
when Queen Victoria acquired one to
tend the lawns of her beloved Balmoral.
- Might I have a go at that?
- Absolutely.
- Give it a whirl.
- Some gloves there.
Thank you.
Quite a heavy piece, isn't it?
(man) Then catch
the second roller as you go through.
- (man) Press the button there.
- Here we go.
- (Michael) Look at that, curving away.
- Mm-hmm.
That's basically what you've got.
It's formed a spiral.
And... there it goes.
The extraordinary thing is that
a Victorian would recognise that
- because it was made in the same way.
- Absolutely.
In the 21st century,
Budding's blades are fitted to mowers
that cut sports fields
all over the world.
The factory is unexpectedly
surrounded by top-quality grass
and each model has to meet
green-keeper Jamie Hughes's standards.
(Michael) This is a golf course
attached to a factory.
It is. It's unusual to come on
to an industrial estate
and turn a corner, golf course.
(Michael) Gosh, you've got machinery
old and new here. This is what?
(Jamie) We've got the Budding,
the original.
This is the original?
Can I have a go at it?
- You can.
- Do you mind holding my book?
(mower clatters)
- Oh, look at that! It actually works!
- It does, it takes a push.
"A Budding patent."
It really was a Budding patent.
Never was a truer word said.
- This one is a bit easier, is it?
- This one is far easier, yes.
- So...
- And we will have a go on this.
- Oh, good. Does that mean me?
- That does. That means you, exactly.
- (engine starts)
- “are we go.
(Jamie) These are your arms.
You know, this invention
is really cutting edge.
Resuming my journey, I'm heading
south-west on the Great Eastern mainline
out oi East Anglia and into Essex.
My next stop will be Colchester.
Bradshaw's tells me, "It's formerly
an important town of the Romans
on the River Colne."
"Silk from umbrellas is made here,
and velvet."
"Excellent oysters at Pyefleet."
I sense there's important history
to be prised open here.
Replete with its
vast Victorian brick water tower,
Colchester,
once the Roman capital of Britain,
is a bustling market town
world famous for the oysters harvested
from its nearby waters since 48AD.
To find out why its oysters
are so renowned,
I'm meeting Graham Larkin
by Mersea Island
at the confluence of the Pyefleet
Channel and the River Colne.
Why is it that these waters
give us such good oysters?
It's a very high salinity area,
which means the water is very salty,
and we've got agricultural land
around us
that's giving us
all the nutrients and food
being washed off into the creek
with the rain.
It's being filtered through by the
oysters, fattening them up.
(Michael) Give me an idea of
how many oysters you are dredging up.
On a weekly basis, between
60 and 65,000 rock oysters a week.
That's like a small town's worth of
rock oysters every week.
Yeah, it's quite a lot.
Colchester oysters were
a sought-after delicacy in Roman times.
Archaeological excavations
have found evidence
that they were even exported to Rome
in nets trailing in the water
from the boat.
But by the 19th century,
the coming of the railways made oysters
a plentiful and cheap food
for the urban poor.
In 1864, more than 700 million oysters
were eaten in London alone.
During the Victorian times,
the oysters would have been taken
from where they were gathered by boat
lo Brightlingsea in barrels,
then transported from Brightlingsea
by rail into London,
where they would have been sold on
street corners or in restaurants.
Oysters are in demand again today.
Although no longer cheap,
they are harvested in much the same way
as in Bradshaw's day, by dredger.
We're going to tow this dredger just
over a walking pace for about 100 yards,
then haul it up
and see what we've got.
(Michael) Here it is.
Ah, we've got some stuff in there,
that's great.
- (Graham) Got some nice oysters here.
- Enormous.
This is the sort of oyster that, once
cleaned up, could appear on my plate?
- It certainly is, yeah.
- I'd be extremely pleased
- to find him in a restaurant.
- Shall we head back with your haul?
Yeah, let's gel underway.
The oyster fishery was granted to the
people of Colchester by King Richard I.
Now owned by the council, the fishery
is leased out to Graham's company,
which ensures that every one
of its rock oysters
is made fit for human consumption
by placing it in fresh sea water
for at least 42 hours
to flush out impurities.
Is it possible to have
one of these lovely fellows?
- Of course it is, yeah.
- So, down the hatch.
“Mm.
Talk about the taste of the sea.
- Wonderful burst of flavour.
- Very fresh.
Don't get any fresher than that.
Today you can enjoy one type of oyster
or another throughout the year.
But historically,
it was thought safest to avoid oysters
in the heat of summer,
so they were eaten only in months
whose name contains a letter R.
On this balmy Colchester evening,
I want lo find out whether
such caution persists.
- Good evening.
- Good evening.
I see that you're enjoying
a lovely glass of Champagne.
- Very civilised
- Lovely summer evening, isn't it?
- Are you celebrating?
- No, not really.
- Just a daily occurrence.
- Just going out for a drink.
Very good. But I wondered whether
you would have oysters to go with it,
because Colchester
is famous for oysters.
Yeah...
But no R in the month, is there?
No. No R in the month.
So you don't like having an oyster
when there's no R in the month?
- You don't eat them then.
- You like oysters?
I love oysters, yes.
So are you longing for there to be
an R in the month?
November... October, November, December.
- Yes, I am.
- Are you a chewer or a swallower?
- A swallower.
- Really, no chewing?
- No.
- I like to give them a good chew.
- Oh, no.
- Anyway, cheers to you both.
- Thank you.
- Bye-bye.
Bradshaw's promised me fragments of
the ancient town walls.
In fact, they seem to be
pretty well preserved.
The pub here is called
The Hole in the Wall,
which seems a strange way to refer
to such a beautifully-formed Roman gate,
but anyway, I feel thirsty.
I'm meeting local historian
Patrick Denney
to find out how a pub
came to sit on an ancient ruin.
- Welcome to Colchester.
- Thank you very much.
The Hole in the Wall pub.
I assume it's a reference to that
rather lovely gale out there, is it?
Well, not actually. No.
The name Hole in the Wall dates first
lo when the railway arrived
in Colchester in 1843.
This pub, it was called
The King's Head in those days,
commanded the best view of the railway
in the whole town.
So the landlord of this pub smashed
a big hole in the Roman wall,
which is just behind us here,
extended his pub,
put a window in so his customers could
come and have a view of the railway.
He smashed a hole in the Roman wall.
I mean, today you'd be thrown in prison
for picking up a bit that fell off,
but he got away with it.
And of course,
the town's cabbies did a roaring trade.
They'd see a train come in,
leave their pint
and off they'd go to the station.
Well, I have found it a wholly
appropriate place to end the day.
- Cheers.
- OK, cheers, Michael.
Looking forward to the day ahead,
this morning I'm traveling west
into the Essex countryside.
This first train of the day
will take me to Witham.
Bradshaw's draws my attention
to Tiptree Heath,
on which is Alderman Mechi's
celebrated model farming establishment.
There is a corner of an English field
that is forever linked to
an Italian name.
The station at Witham,
a fashionable 18th-century spa town,
is close to Tiptree Heath,
a once infertile,
marshy comer of Essex.
I'm hoping that Ian Thurgood,
joint managing director for
the farm's current owners,
will know how a London alderman turned
it into a successful 19th-century farm.
- Hello, Ian.
- Hello, Michael.
- Welcome to Tiptree Hall
- Thank you very much indeed.
Who was Alderman Mechi?
Alderman Mechi was
the son of an Italian immigrant
who made his fortune in London.
He was a cutler, a silversmith,
and very good in commerce,
but turned his attention finally
to Tiptree Hall
and experimental farming,
trying lots of different things
to see if he could make sense of
farming anywhere in the country.
He had a couple of particularly
revolutionary ideas at the time.
One was that he would irrigate and drain
the soil across the whole farm
and it's said that he laid
some 80 to 90 miles of drains
just on Tiptree Hall farm.
The second thing he decided
was his cattle would stand on grids.
They wouldn't stand in
a courtyard in the mud,
so the grids were used and then
he was able to collect the manure,
return the manure to the fields
and thus improve the soil.
I'm guessing that he was successful
because my Bradshaw's refers to it
as a "model farm establishment".
So people were coming to learn,
were they?
(Ian) Mechi was successful,
there's no doubt about that.
In fact, it's said that,
at one point here at Tiptree Hall,
he was bringing in 600 people
from Witham Station
who were coming in for
Mechi's agricultural day
where they could look at
the wonderful things he was trying.
The first place they could see
steam ploughing for many
was at Tiptree Hall.
Mechi's annual agricultural shows
and his modern techniques
became so renowned that, in 1852,
Charles Dickens reported on Tiptree
in his weekly journal.
- Did his ideas spread far and wide?
- Yes, they did.
Through the publication of his book,
How To Farm Profitably.
(Michael) Bradshaw's calls him
Alderman Mechi. Alderman of what?
(Ian) Mechi was alderman of
the city of London.
He was actually in line
to become the Lord Mayor of London.
Sadly, Alderman Mechi
failed to became Lord Mayor
because he lost his fortune
in the collapse of
the Unity Joint Stock Bank
of which he was a governor.
Twelve days after being forced
to liquidate his affairs,
Mechi died here at Tiptree.
Some say of diabetes,
others, oi a broken heart.
It's a sad story, but not, I think,
the end of farming at Tiptree.
(Ian) That's not the end of
the farming story.
Eventually, Tiptree Hall
was bought by the Wilkin family.
Local jam-makers Wilkin 8. Sons
bought the Tiptree estate in 1913.
It now covers a square acreage
equivalent to around
300 cricket fields.
We're in the mulberry orchard now.
This is the oldest orchard
on the estate,
planted in Victorian times, in fact.
- Not planted by Alderman Mechi?
- Not by Alderman Mechi, no.
In fact, just a little while after
he'd departed Tiptree.
- Hello.
- (man) Hello.
- Is it difficult to pick mulberries?
- Yeah, it's a little bit difficult
because you need to be
a little bit high.
- (Michael) Could I try one, please?
- (man) Sure.
Thank you very much indeed.
Look at you, you're covered in juice.
Look at these red hands.
I look like a scene out of Macbeth.
Well, they say that's where the phrase
"caught red-handed" comes from.
If you come in the mulberry orchard
and scrump some mulberries,
you won't get away with it
because that will slay
for three or four days.
The indelible stain of crime.
Back in 1885, fruit-grower
Arthur Charles Wilkin
had become so frustrated
with the damage
that his immaculate fruit suffered
on the train journey to market
that he turned his attention instead
to making jam.
Wilkin & Sons factory now supplies
conserves of many flavours
to 60 countries.
The mulberry, a fruit
which according to Greek mythology
was turned deep red by
the Mood of Pyramus and Thisbe,
is the queen of the Tiptree crop
and requires special attention.
What is it that you're doing
lo the fruit?
We're taking out the stalk
in the mulberry.
(Michael)
I guess you don't want that in jam.
(woman) No, no.
Wow, and this really happens to every
mulberry that goes into the jam?
Every single one that's picked,
the stalk's taken out.
That must make it a really special jam,
I think.
Yes.
From its humble Victorian beginnings,
the company's fist-century turnover
has hit £35 million.
A thoroughly modem-sounding revenue
married to
an age-aid production process.
Well, like any good kitchen,
jam needs a bit of a stir.
The mulberries are being boiled up here.
Do you want to have a go at stirring?
- May I take your paddle for a moment?
- Mind your hands.
- Mind my hands.
- As high as possible up there.
- Good tip.
- Backwards and forwards.
(Michael) What temperature
does that boil at?
- 104.
- 104?
So you don't want
to get too close to that.
Think I'll let you take over,
I don't want to spoil the broth.
Thank you.
What's happening here, Ian?
The fruit comes up on a conveyor system.
Just fruit and sugar and some pectin,
if we need pectin to make it set.
Close the lid, 15 minutes later
we've got some jam ready.
How long before
that ends up in ajar?
That will be in ajar in
about 20 or 25 minutes from now.
Amazing.
(Ian)
Come and taste some mulberry jam.
(Michael) Mulberry jam, I'd love to.
A lovely scone to put it on,
Lay it on thick.
A little clotted cream.
Perfect.
Ideally,
I won't get it all over my nose.
Mmm!
It's exquisite.
I'm so lucky to get to sample things
like this doing the Railway Journeys.
Some people think I'm really jammy.
Fortified by that cream tea,
I'll continue my journey south-west
towards this leg's final destination.
For many places in the United Kingdom,
Bradshaw's lists a telegraph station.
In those days,
towns were linked by wires
down which people could send
telegrams or cables.
The idea of communication without wire
would have seemed extraordinary.
But since, as the book says,
"Essex composes part of the largest
connected space of level ground
with not one lofty eminence
or rocky ridge,"
this was a good place to test
wireless communication.
Wireless technology has assumed
a new importance in the 21st century.
Chelmsford, the county town of Essex,
Benefited from
the first wireless revolution
when in 1912 an Italian named
Guglielmo Marconi
established the world's first
purpose-built radio equipment factory
in New Street on the site of
the town's old cricket ground.
Much of the old works
has been demolished
but to find out more, I'm meeting
Chelmsford Museum Science Curator,
Dr Geoff Bowles, in one of
the surviving factory buildings.
- Hello, Geoff.
- Hello, Michael.
Did Marconi actually invent
wireless technology?
His fundamental breakthrough really
was to erect an aerial
and an earth connection.
Whereas others were trying it
without those two things,
and they could make wireless waves
go across the laboratory,
with an aerial and earth, Marconi was
suddenly sending it hundreds of metres.
And that's what he was after.
Frustrated by Italy's
lack of enthusiasm
for technological innovation,
Marconi settled in Chelmsford,
beyond the area of the
General Post Office monopoly
on telegraphic communication.
In 1901, the immigrant scientist
sent the first wireless signal
across the Atlantic.
His high-quality Morse code
transmitters and receivers
were sold to maritime fleets,
governments
and radio hams across the world.
And in 1920,
the Nobel prize-winning physicist
achieved another
communication milestone:
a voice broadcast
with edifying content by George.
One of the things they did was actually
to read Bradshaw's timetable
very slowly and clearly over the air.
A great deal more interesting than
many broadcasts that we get today.
And when did we actually move to
broadcasting in the fullest sense?
Really, as a result of
a very famous concert.
Dame Nelly Melba,
the Australian prima Donna,
her voice went out from
the enormous 450 foot mast
which had been set up above the factory
and she was heard all over the world.
Suddenly it became clear that you could
also broadcast entertainment to people
and that was a totally new idea.
The early factory studios
no longer exist,
but three miles east
of the city centre,
at Chelmsford's Sandford Mill Museum,
I'm meeting Peter Watkins,
who has firsthand experience oi
using early Marconi equipment.
- Hello, Peter.
- Hello, Michael.
A bit of personal nostalgia for you.
Yes. I was doing this
about 55 years ago.
You were on ships?
Yes, I joined a ship in London Docks.
From there we went out to the Far East.
- (Michael) You were employed by whom?
- I was employed by Marconi Marine.
I realise that Marconi put equipment
for radio signals on to ships,
but they put the people on as well,
did they?
It was a total package
I imagine that putting
the equipment on to ships
improved the safety at sea?
Oh, yes. Titanic, for instance,
would have had a range with its
transmitters of at least 1,000 miles.
So when they collided with the iceberg,
the radio officer would have sent
a distress signal
and, without that message,
many of the people who survived
just wouldn't have done
and that was totally down
to Marconi operators.
Would you like to have a go
at sending some Morse?
I would love to,
but I don't know the signals.
- Well, we have a list here.
- I see, I follow that, do I?
- OK, what would you like me to send?
- How about "Marconi"?
- (beeping)
- Dash... Dash-dash is M.
Dot-dash is A.
Dot-dash-dot.
C, dash-dot-dash-dot.
0... three dashes, very simple.
N, I've lost N, is dash-dot.
And I, dot-dot.
- Well done.
- Ll was a bit slow, wasn't it?
(both laugh)
Some industries that I've seen
on this journey
are as old as the Romans,
like oyster dredging,
but others,
like lawnmowers and wireless,
required Victorian breakthroughs
in technology.
John Mechi and Guglielmo Marconi
showed that people with
foreign-sounding names
could make useful British citizens.
But then, Michael Portillo
would say that, wouldn't he?
On the next leg, I'll try my hand
at lowering a massive container
onto a freight train, “...
So now the moment of truth.
“Discover the work of
a renowned Victorian philanthropist...
Each of the images has
a before and after photograph.
“And ask myself,
"Who the Dickens are these characters?"
No doubt about you. You've got the iron
around your leg and a rag on your head.
You're the convict, Magwitch,
from Great Expectations.
transformed travel in Britain.
His name was George Bradshaw
and his railway guides inspired
the Victorians to take to the tracks.
Stop by stop, he told them where to go,
what to see and where to stay.
And now, 170 years later,
I'm aboard for a series of rail
adventures across the United Kingdom
to see what of Bradshaw's Britain
remains.
My journey continues through Suffolk.
This flat terrain produces
a big beautiful dome of sky,
and beneath it, the green land
and the rivers that run between it
are rich in food.
On this leg, I discover 19th-century
engineering was pretty sharp...
And there it goes.
And the extraordinary thing is
that a Victorian would recognise that
- because it was made in the same way.
- Absolutely.
Shell out for seafood
near Mersea Island...
Enormous. So this is the sort of oyster
that, once cleaned up,
- could appear on my plate?
- Ll certainly is.
And I'm tainted in an Essex orchard.
That's where the phrase
"caught red-handed" comes from.
The indelible stain of crime.
My journey, which began in Norwich,
continues south-west through Suffolk,
past Chelmsford in Essex,
then across the Thames at Tilbury,
through the Medway towns of Kent
and its largest port, Dover,
before moving west to Tonbridge,
down to the Sussex coast
and ending in
the cathedral city of Chichester.
Today's leg begins in Ipswich,
moves south-west to crack open the Essex
delights of Colchester and Witham,
and picks up radio waves in Chelmsford.
Bradshaw's tells me that Suffolk
"is one of the best cultivated districts
in England".
"Almost exclusively a farming county,
being conducted upon
the most improved principles."
There was innovation in agriculture
long before the Industrial Revolution,
and East Anglia was in the forefront.
Set on the bank of the Orwell estuary,
Ipswich, one of England's oldest towns,
has been an important trading centre
since the Saxons settled here.
It became one of the richest ports
in medieval England,
and thrived on shipbuilding.
When the railways arrived in Ipswich
in 1846,
they ran to the new docks,
from where the town's iron goods and
farm machinery could be moved easily
to customers around the country.
Here I am at Ipswich,
which Bradshaw's tells me
is a port borough town
and capital of Suffolk.
And then it tells me that,
"Ransome and Sims
machine and agricultural
implement works cover 14 acres."
Could that be instrumental in
the agricultural improvement
that Bradshaw's tells me about?
Founded in 1789 by Robert Ransome
during the agrarian revolution,
Ransomes of Ipswich has been making
agricultural equipment ever since.
The company was
originally situated at the docks,
where it also built its
own railway sidings.
I'm keen to find out lust how
important Ransomes was
to the economy oi Ipswich
in Bradshaw's day.
Richard Comely is
the company's marketing director.
- Hello, Michael. Welcome.
- Very good to see you.
Thank you.
Bradshaw's tells me that Ransomes
and Sims covered an area of 14 acres.
That's in 1864,
it must have been enormous.
(Richard)
Some 3,500 people were employed here,
making ploughs, mowing machinery,
all kinds of agricultural equipment.
In 1832, Ransomes won the licence
to manufacture a brand-new product.
Engineer Edwin Budding's invention,
based on the napping of cloth
in cotton mills,
would revolutionise
19th-century gardening.
So until such time as
the mower came along,
people were cutting grass with scythes
and that had limitations,
especially with short grass.
What's the breakthrough
about the lawnmower?
So the principle is we have these
rotating blades that are in a spiral
and then we have a bed knife
which is the stationary part
that the rotating blades rotate against.
The reason they're in a spiral is
to feed the power in more evenly
and to eliminate the kind of
chopping motion you would get
if the blades were
all in straight lines.
This is fundamentally
what Budding invented.
That is a fantastic thought, isn't it?
That a fellow came up with this idea,
what, 180 years ago
- and it's recognisable to this day.
- Exactly.
In 1867, the company produced
more than a thousand lawnmowers.
And royal recognition followed
when Queen Victoria acquired one to
tend the lawns of her beloved Balmoral.
- Might I have a go at that?
- Absolutely.
- Give it a whirl.
- Some gloves there.
Thank you.
Quite a heavy piece, isn't it?
(man) Then catch
the second roller as you go through.
- (man) Press the button there.
- Here we go.
- (Michael) Look at that, curving away.
- Mm-hmm.
That's basically what you've got.
It's formed a spiral.
And... there it goes.
The extraordinary thing is that
a Victorian would recognise that
- because it was made in the same way.
- Absolutely.
In the 21st century,
Budding's blades are fitted to mowers
that cut sports fields
all over the world.
The factory is unexpectedly
surrounded by top-quality grass
and each model has to meet
green-keeper Jamie Hughes's standards.
(Michael) This is a golf course
attached to a factory.
It is. It's unusual to come on
to an industrial estate
and turn a corner, golf course.
(Michael) Gosh, you've got machinery
old and new here. This is what?
(Jamie) We've got the Budding,
the original.
This is the original?
Can I have a go at it?
- You can.
- Do you mind holding my book?
(mower clatters)
- Oh, look at that! It actually works!
- It does, it takes a push.
"A Budding patent."
It really was a Budding patent.
Never was a truer word said.
- This one is a bit easier, is it?
- This one is far easier, yes.
- So...
- And we will have a go on this.
- Oh, good. Does that mean me?
- That does. That means you, exactly.
- (engine starts)
- “are we go.
(Jamie) These are your arms.
You know, this invention
is really cutting edge.
Resuming my journey, I'm heading
south-west on the Great Eastern mainline
out oi East Anglia and into Essex.
My next stop will be Colchester.
Bradshaw's tells me, "It's formerly
an important town of the Romans
on the River Colne."
"Silk from umbrellas is made here,
and velvet."
"Excellent oysters at Pyefleet."
I sense there's important history
to be prised open here.
Replete with its
vast Victorian brick water tower,
Colchester,
once the Roman capital of Britain,
is a bustling market town
world famous for the oysters harvested
from its nearby waters since 48AD.
To find out why its oysters
are so renowned,
I'm meeting Graham Larkin
by Mersea Island
at the confluence of the Pyefleet
Channel and the River Colne.
Why is it that these waters
give us such good oysters?
It's a very high salinity area,
which means the water is very salty,
and we've got agricultural land
around us
that's giving us
all the nutrients and food
being washed off into the creek
with the rain.
It's being filtered through by the
oysters, fattening them up.
(Michael) Give me an idea of
how many oysters you are dredging up.
On a weekly basis, between
60 and 65,000 rock oysters a week.
That's like a small town's worth of
rock oysters every week.
Yeah, it's quite a lot.
Colchester oysters were
a sought-after delicacy in Roman times.
Archaeological excavations
have found evidence
that they were even exported to Rome
in nets trailing in the water
from the boat.
But by the 19th century,
the coming of the railways made oysters
a plentiful and cheap food
for the urban poor.
In 1864, more than 700 million oysters
were eaten in London alone.
During the Victorian times,
the oysters would have been taken
from where they were gathered by boat
lo Brightlingsea in barrels,
then transported from Brightlingsea
by rail into London,
where they would have been sold on
street corners or in restaurants.
Oysters are in demand again today.
Although no longer cheap,
they are harvested in much the same way
as in Bradshaw's day, by dredger.
We're going to tow this dredger just
over a walking pace for about 100 yards,
then haul it up
and see what we've got.
(Michael) Here it is.
Ah, we've got some stuff in there,
that's great.
- (Graham) Got some nice oysters here.
- Enormous.
This is the sort of oyster that, once
cleaned up, could appear on my plate?
- It certainly is, yeah.
- I'd be extremely pleased
- to find him in a restaurant.
- Shall we head back with your haul?
Yeah, let's gel underway.
The oyster fishery was granted to the
people of Colchester by King Richard I.
Now owned by the council, the fishery
is leased out to Graham's company,
which ensures that every one
of its rock oysters
is made fit for human consumption
by placing it in fresh sea water
for at least 42 hours
to flush out impurities.
Is it possible to have
one of these lovely fellows?
- Of course it is, yeah.
- So, down the hatch.
“Mm.
Talk about the taste of the sea.
- Wonderful burst of flavour.
- Very fresh.
Don't get any fresher than that.
Today you can enjoy one type of oyster
or another throughout the year.
But historically,
it was thought safest to avoid oysters
in the heat of summer,
so they were eaten only in months
whose name contains a letter R.
On this balmy Colchester evening,
I want lo find out whether
such caution persists.
- Good evening.
- Good evening.
I see that you're enjoying
a lovely glass of Champagne.
- Very civilised
- Lovely summer evening, isn't it?
- Are you celebrating?
- No, not really.
- Just a daily occurrence.
- Just going out for a drink.
Very good. But I wondered whether
you would have oysters to go with it,
because Colchester
is famous for oysters.
Yeah...
But no R in the month, is there?
No. No R in the month.
So you don't like having an oyster
when there's no R in the month?
- You don't eat them then.
- You like oysters?
I love oysters, yes.
So are you longing for there to be
an R in the month?
November... October, November, December.
- Yes, I am.
- Are you a chewer or a swallower?
- A swallower.
- Really, no chewing?
- No.
- I like to give them a good chew.
- Oh, no.
- Anyway, cheers to you both.
- Thank you.
- Bye-bye.
Bradshaw's promised me fragments of
the ancient town walls.
In fact, they seem to be
pretty well preserved.
The pub here is called
The Hole in the Wall,
which seems a strange way to refer
to such a beautifully-formed Roman gate,
but anyway, I feel thirsty.
I'm meeting local historian
Patrick Denney
to find out how a pub
came to sit on an ancient ruin.
- Welcome to Colchester.
- Thank you very much.
The Hole in the Wall pub.
I assume it's a reference to that
rather lovely gale out there, is it?
Well, not actually. No.
The name Hole in the Wall dates first
lo when the railway arrived
in Colchester in 1843.
This pub, it was called
The King's Head in those days,
commanded the best view of the railway
in the whole town.
So the landlord of this pub smashed
a big hole in the Roman wall,
which is just behind us here,
extended his pub,
put a window in so his customers could
come and have a view of the railway.
He smashed a hole in the Roman wall.
I mean, today you'd be thrown in prison
for picking up a bit that fell off,
but he got away with it.
And of course,
the town's cabbies did a roaring trade.
They'd see a train come in,
leave their pint
and off they'd go to the station.
Well, I have found it a wholly
appropriate place to end the day.
- Cheers.
- OK, cheers, Michael.
Looking forward to the day ahead,
this morning I'm traveling west
into the Essex countryside.
This first train of the day
will take me to Witham.
Bradshaw's draws my attention
to Tiptree Heath,
on which is Alderman Mechi's
celebrated model farming establishment.
There is a corner of an English field
that is forever linked to
an Italian name.
The station at Witham,
a fashionable 18th-century spa town,
is close to Tiptree Heath,
a once infertile,
marshy comer of Essex.
I'm hoping that Ian Thurgood,
joint managing director for
the farm's current owners,
will know how a London alderman turned
it into a successful 19th-century farm.
- Hello, Ian.
- Hello, Michael.
- Welcome to Tiptree Hall
- Thank you very much indeed.
Who was Alderman Mechi?
Alderman Mechi was
the son of an Italian immigrant
who made his fortune in London.
He was a cutler, a silversmith,
and very good in commerce,
but turned his attention finally
to Tiptree Hall
and experimental farming,
trying lots of different things
to see if he could make sense of
farming anywhere in the country.
He had a couple of particularly
revolutionary ideas at the time.
One was that he would irrigate and drain
the soil across the whole farm
and it's said that he laid
some 80 to 90 miles of drains
just on Tiptree Hall farm.
The second thing he decided
was his cattle would stand on grids.
They wouldn't stand in
a courtyard in the mud,
so the grids were used and then
he was able to collect the manure,
return the manure to the fields
and thus improve the soil.
I'm guessing that he was successful
because my Bradshaw's refers to it
as a "model farm establishment".
So people were coming to learn,
were they?
(Ian) Mechi was successful,
there's no doubt about that.
In fact, it's said that,
at one point here at Tiptree Hall,
he was bringing in 600 people
from Witham Station
who were coming in for
Mechi's agricultural day
where they could look at
the wonderful things he was trying.
The first place they could see
steam ploughing for many
was at Tiptree Hall.
Mechi's annual agricultural shows
and his modern techniques
became so renowned that, in 1852,
Charles Dickens reported on Tiptree
in his weekly journal.
- Did his ideas spread far and wide?
- Yes, they did.
Through the publication of his book,
How To Farm Profitably.
(Michael) Bradshaw's calls him
Alderman Mechi. Alderman of what?
(Ian) Mechi was alderman of
the city of London.
He was actually in line
to become the Lord Mayor of London.
Sadly, Alderman Mechi
failed to became Lord Mayor
because he lost his fortune
in the collapse of
the Unity Joint Stock Bank
of which he was a governor.
Twelve days after being forced
to liquidate his affairs,
Mechi died here at Tiptree.
Some say of diabetes,
others, oi a broken heart.
It's a sad story, but not, I think,
the end of farming at Tiptree.
(Ian) That's not the end of
the farming story.
Eventually, Tiptree Hall
was bought by the Wilkin family.
Local jam-makers Wilkin 8. Sons
bought the Tiptree estate in 1913.
It now covers a square acreage
equivalent to around
300 cricket fields.
We're in the mulberry orchard now.
This is the oldest orchard
on the estate,
planted in Victorian times, in fact.
- Not planted by Alderman Mechi?
- Not by Alderman Mechi, no.
In fact, just a little while after
he'd departed Tiptree.
- Hello.
- (man) Hello.
- Is it difficult to pick mulberries?
- Yeah, it's a little bit difficult
because you need to be
a little bit high.
- (Michael) Could I try one, please?
- (man) Sure.
Thank you very much indeed.
Look at you, you're covered in juice.
Look at these red hands.
I look like a scene out of Macbeth.
Well, they say that's where the phrase
"caught red-handed" comes from.
If you come in the mulberry orchard
and scrump some mulberries,
you won't get away with it
because that will slay
for three or four days.
The indelible stain of crime.
Back in 1885, fruit-grower
Arthur Charles Wilkin
had become so frustrated
with the damage
that his immaculate fruit suffered
on the train journey to market
that he turned his attention instead
to making jam.
Wilkin & Sons factory now supplies
conserves of many flavours
to 60 countries.
The mulberry, a fruit
which according to Greek mythology
was turned deep red by
the Mood of Pyramus and Thisbe,
is the queen of the Tiptree crop
and requires special attention.
What is it that you're doing
lo the fruit?
We're taking out the stalk
in the mulberry.
(Michael)
I guess you don't want that in jam.
(woman) No, no.
Wow, and this really happens to every
mulberry that goes into the jam?
Every single one that's picked,
the stalk's taken out.
That must make it a really special jam,
I think.
Yes.
From its humble Victorian beginnings,
the company's fist-century turnover
has hit £35 million.
A thoroughly modem-sounding revenue
married to
an age-aid production process.
Well, like any good kitchen,
jam needs a bit of a stir.
The mulberries are being boiled up here.
Do you want to have a go at stirring?
- May I take your paddle for a moment?
- Mind your hands.
- Mind my hands.
- As high as possible up there.
- Good tip.
- Backwards and forwards.
(Michael) What temperature
does that boil at?
- 104.
- 104?
So you don't want
to get too close to that.
Think I'll let you take over,
I don't want to spoil the broth.
Thank you.
What's happening here, Ian?
The fruit comes up on a conveyor system.
Just fruit and sugar and some pectin,
if we need pectin to make it set.
Close the lid, 15 minutes later
we've got some jam ready.
How long before
that ends up in ajar?
That will be in ajar in
about 20 or 25 minutes from now.
Amazing.
(Ian)
Come and taste some mulberry jam.
(Michael) Mulberry jam, I'd love to.
A lovely scone to put it on,
Lay it on thick.
A little clotted cream.
Perfect.
Ideally,
I won't get it all over my nose.
Mmm!
It's exquisite.
I'm so lucky to get to sample things
like this doing the Railway Journeys.
Some people think I'm really jammy.
Fortified by that cream tea,
I'll continue my journey south-west
towards this leg's final destination.
For many places in the United Kingdom,
Bradshaw's lists a telegraph station.
In those days,
towns were linked by wires
down which people could send
telegrams or cables.
The idea of communication without wire
would have seemed extraordinary.
But since, as the book says,
"Essex composes part of the largest
connected space of level ground
with not one lofty eminence
or rocky ridge,"
this was a good place to test
wireless communication.
Wireless technology has assumed
a new importance in the 21st century.
Chelmsford, the county town of Essex,
Benefited from
the first wireless revolution
when in 1912 an Italian named
Guglielmo Marconi
established the world's first
purpose-built radio equipment factory
in New Street on the site of
the town's old cricket ground.
Much of the old works
has been demolished
but to find out more, I'm meeting
Chelmsford Museum Science Curator,
Dr Geoff Bowles, in one of
the surviving factory buildings.
- Hello, Geoff.
- Hello, Michael.
Did Marconi actually invent
wireless technology?
His fundamental breakthrough really
was to erect an aerial
and an earth connection.
Whereas others were trying it
without those two things,
and they could make wireless waves
go across the laboratory,
with an aerial and earth, Marconi was
suddenly sending it hundreds of metres.
And that's what he was after.
Frustrated by Italy's
lack of enthusiasm
for technological innovation,
Marconi settled in Chelmsford,
beyond the area of the
General Post Office monopoly
on telegraphic communication.
In 1901, the immigrant scientist
sent the first wireless signal
across the Atlantic.
His high-quality Morse code
transmitters and receivers
were sold to maritime fleets,
governments
and radio hams across the world.
And in 1920,
the Nobel prize-winning physicist
achieved another
communication milestone:
a voice broadcast
with edifying content by George.
One of the things they did was actually
to read Bradshaw's timetable
very slowly and clearly over the air.
A great deal more interesting than
many broadcasts that we get today.
And when did we actually move to
broadcasting in the fullest sense?
Really, as a result of
a very famous concert.
Dame Nelly Melba,
the Australian prima Donna,
her voice went out from
the enormous 450 foot mast
which had been set up above the factory
and she was heard all over the world.
Suddenly it became clear that you could
also broadcast entertainment to people
and that was a totally new idea.
The early factory studios
no longer exist,
but three miles east
of the city centre,
at Chelmsford's Sandford Mill Museum,
I'm meeting Peter Watkins,
who has firsthand experience oi
using early Marconi equipment.
- Hello, Peter.
- Hello, Michael.
A bit of personal nostalgia for you.
Yes. I was doing this
about 55 years ago.
You were on ships?
Yes, I joined a ship in London Docks.
From there we went out to the Far East.
- (Michael) You were employed by whom?
- I was employed by Marconi Marine.
I realise that Marconi put equipment
for radio signals on to ships,
but they put the people on as well,
did they?
It was a total package
I imagine that putting
the equipment on to ships
improved the safety at sea?
Oh, yes. Titanic, for instance,
would have had a range with its
transmitters of at least 1,000 miles.
So when they collided with the iceberg,
the radio officer would have sent
a distress signal
and, without that message,
many of the people who survived
just wouldn't have done
and that was totally down
to Marconi operators.
Would you like to have a go
at sending some Morse?
I would love to,
but I don't know the signals.
- Well, we have a list here.
- I see, I follow that, do I?
- OK, what would you like me to send?
- How about "Marconi"?
- (beeping)
- Dash... Dash-dash is M.
Dot-dash is A.
Dot-dash-dot.
C, dash-dot-dash-dot.
0... three dashes, very simple.
N, I've lost N, is dash-dot.
And I, dot-dot.
- Well done.
- Ll was a bit slow, wasn't it?
(both laugh)
Some industries that I've seen
on this journey
are as old as the Romans,
like oyster dredging,
but others,
like lawnmowers and wireless,
required Victorian breakthroughs
in technology.
John Mechi and Guglielmo Marconi
showed that people with
foreign-sounding names
could make useful British citizens.
But then, Michael Portillo
would say that, wouldn't he?
On the next leg, I'll try my hand
at lowering a massive container
onto a freight train, “...
So now the moment of truth.
“Discover the work of
a renowned Victorian philanthropist...
Each of the images has
a before and after photograph.
“And ask myself,
"Who the Dickens are these characters?"
No doubt about you. You've got the iron
around your leg and a rag on your head.
You're the convict, Magwitch,
from Great Expectations.