Whenever this town-focused series includes a city, prideful hollering ensues. The English distinction – not tied to a cathedral, a certain form of local government, nor population size – is whimsical, even if signed off by royalty. This selection of destinations is not about alpha cities. The smallest is ancient; the other two newly minted. None merit bypassing.
Carlisle
I arrived in Carlisle by way of the Cumbrian coast line and would later ride onward on the fabled railway to Settle. Arriving in this ancient city in a midway kind of mood is all too common. If Carlisle wasn’t between so many beauty spots – Lakes and Dales, Scotland and Northumbria, Hadrian’s Wall and North Pennines – it would be a tourism hotspot.
Its origins lie in the Roman settlement of Luguvalium, a key military base by the third century and the administrative centre for keeping down the indigenous Carvetii. A castle first appeared in 1093; its successor greets you outside the station. A priory and city were founded and a bishopric decreed in the 12th century. Walls were speedily built; the western ramparts remain. Anglo-Norman historian Jordan Fantosme (died circa 1185) describes the “fair and well-defended city of Carlisle … resplendent in its beauty as the sun lights up its walls and turrets”. Myth swirled around them. French Arthurian poet Chrétien de Troyes identified Arthur’s court with Carlisle.
Wool was woven and dyed; leather was tanned. Both commodities were exported to Ireland. From the 13th century, the gaze shifted to Scotland, with Carlisle as a base for invasion. Between-ness became bloody. The so-called Debatable Lands, formerly too poor to matter, became a seedbed of anarchy. Border reivers from both nations raided farms and settlements. This was the last part of Great Britain to be brought under the control of a state, beginning in 1530.
Subsequently, Carlisle was a major trading post, for corn, cattle, horses, with three fairs and eight thriving guilds (merchants, tanners, skinners and glovers, butchers, smiths, weavers, tailors, and shoemakers). The Guildhall is a Grade I-listed, timber-framed beauty. However, commercial activity waned. Daniel Defoe, visiting in 1724, reported that “the city is strong, but small, the buildings old, but the streets fair … There is not a great deal of trade here either by land or sea, it being a mere frontier”.
Industry rebooted it all over again, through canal, roads and, especially, the railways. It became a substantial north-west city. Dickens and Wilkie Collins stayed at the County Hotel on their tours. The latter used his northern experiences while writing The Woman in White. I imagine him sipping a brew and scribbling at the Victorian John Watt & Son tearooms in his final year.
Things to see and do: Lanercost Priory (bus AD122 and 685), Hadrian’s Wall (Birdoswald) at Brampton; Carlisle Cathedral
Doncaster
One definition of the north is “point of no return”. In 1603, Sir Robert Carey, deciding to deliver the news that Queen Elizabeth I had died to James VI at Holyrood, travelled by horse from London to Doncaster in a single day. Henry Bolingbroke was proclaimed Henry IV at Doncaster. Northern powers met their foes to negotiate near Doncaster during the Pilgrimage of Grace, a revolt against Henry VIII and Thomas Cromwell.
England’s envoys were following their Roman forebears. Doncaster was a natural forward base for summits and skirmishes. The Great North Road provides both entry point and focus for a day trip to Donny. The starting gate is the racecourse, here since 1776, also the first year of the St Leger.
The Great North Road (A638) is an elegant boulevard. On South Parade are smart early 19th-century terraces. Extensive parks spread out on either side of the road. At Regent Square, leafiness comes into town. In the area are The Earl, a 1930s hotel with its art deco shimmeringly restored; The Point, a thriving gallery, cafe and cultural space; and The Salutation, a lovely boozer that has kept its arch for horse-drawn coaches.
Doncaster gathers pace as you walk. Soon the old main drag bristles with pubs and bars. Hall Gate becomes High Street. On the pavement are two undulating timelines – one for Doncaster (Romans invade 55BC, founding of Danecastre 1152, floods 1750); the other for world events (braille 1837, cubism 1907, etc). Rising above it is the Mansion House, one of two Grade I-listed buildings in the town centre, and the official base of the civic mayor. Free tours of the opulent staircase, meeting rooms and grand ballroom are offered monthly.
The Roman name, Danum, is everywhere: Danum hotel; Danum plumbing and heating; Danum coffee. The Danum Gallery, Library and Museum is a remarkable contemporary building, housing part of the old Doncaster high school for girls building. It has a superb railway memorabilia collection, with the Green Arrow and Atlantic locos built at Doncaster Plant Works as magnificent centrepieces. Above these are beautiful library areas for adults and children, a smart cafe, and an art gallery that juxtaposes old master-ish oils of race meetings and wigged grandees with contemporary work reflecting the most forward-looking attitudes to mental health.
St George’s church is the other Grade I-listed building. Known as the minster, it is prominent, dark and godly, and visible from afar. The architectural historian Nikolaus Pevsner deemed it the “proudest and most cathedral-like of … parish churches”. I walked beneath it, over the North Bridge, past the Danum retail park to the Sun inn, there to discover the Roman Ridge – a branch of the old Roman road called Ermine Street, green and filled with birdsong. At a bench I ate a ham pie from the revered local bakery Toppings. The Romans are said to have introduced the idea of topping pies, and I was having a Toppings pie on the road by which their legionnaires, and their recipes, arrived. A Roman pie on a Roman road.
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Things to see and do: Conisbrough Castle, South Yorkshire aircraft museum, Yorkshire wildlife park, Doncaster markets.
Swansea
The English and Scots get het up over second cities. Wales’s isn’t in doubt – but that doesn’t deter putdowns. In a parody of Dylan Thomas’s oft-quoted “ugly, lovely town”, the corrupt cop Terry Walsh (played by Dougray Scott) in the 1997 film Twin Town describes Swansea as a “pretty shitty city”.
I disagree: terrace houses ranged on steep-sided hills and sweeping Swansea Bay offer solace to the searching eye. If all of Swansea isn’t pretty, blame the blitz, which obliterated buildings, lives, livelihoods, part of the past. The name of the city has nothing to do with swans or the sea. It was once called Sweins eg or eyc, Swein’s island. In Welsh, it’s Abertawe, meaning mouth of the Tawe river. Swein may have been a Norseman who built a fort on the island around AD1000 as a base for raiding the Welsh coast.
The town was founded in the early 12th century during the Norman conquest of Wales. A wooden castle was constructed on the site of Worcester Place, rebuilt in stone in the early 13th century – still standing at the southern end of High Street, somewhat hemmed in by modern buildings. A town, with a market and garrison, sprang up. Much later, Swansea grew around coal mining and iron ore extraction, shipbuilding and shipping, and in the late 18th century saw booms in copper, lead and pottery. In 1801 the population was around 6,800; by the end of the century, it had passed 100,000. During the last three decades, the docks have been redeveloped – and rebranded as the Maritime Quarter (or Marina).
Dylan Thomas is too famous, his ownership of Swansea (and Laugharne) too established to need revisiting. Other artists are worthy guides. Vernon Watkins’s Ode to Swansea opens with precise images of its particular luminance: “Bright town, tossed by waves of time to a hill.” Alfred Janes’s painting Castle Street, Swansea 1941-41 captures the blitzed, violated urban heart. Daniel Jones’s Fifth Symphony may evoke the drama of the wild surrounding landscapes, inner turmoil, the sea, wartime memories, or none of those. It confirmed him “without serious rival as the principality’s leading symphonist”.
These three, with other pals, and Thomas, were known collectively as the Kardomah Gang. The Kardomah cafe on Portland Street is not the original (that was on Castle Street) but is a lovely combination of 50s-style greasy spoon and 21st -century retro chic. The city is packed with sites iconic to locals and literary pilgrims alike: the No Sign Bar (the city’s oldest wine bar); the Tower of the Ecliptic astronomical observatory; the gracious Morgan’s Hotel; the magnificently (mis)named Salubrious Passage off Wind Street; the old Carlton Cinema (now a bookshop).
Trainspotters and history buffs get misty eyed about the Swansea and Mumbles Railway, opened on 25 March 1807, to carry the first paying passengers in the world; a replica of the first horse-drawn carriage is on display in the Tramshed in the Marina. I follow its trail to Mumbles and the Gower – which rises towards the sunset.
Things to see and do: Swansea Jack memorial; 5 Cwmdonkin Drive (Dylan Thomas’s house) and Cwmdonkin Park, Dylan Thomas Centre, National Waterfront Museum.
Chris Moss’s visits were assisted by Visit England, Visit Wales and Doncaster Council