Archives

It was a day of transition. In the morning we drove out of dull, cold Bradwell. Five hours later we are looking over Christchurch harbour. The change is remarkable, the brightness of the light [...]

In my study of Jabez Bradwell’s diary I noted many strange comments about the village in the past. Perhaps the weirdest was that people considered it a veritable health resort in the [...]

Don’t read on if you are of a delicate disposition. Having worked with death all my life you can hardly expect me to ignore it now I near that final transition. I would love to say that I [...]

When I walk to the Post Office on Saturday morning, I cross the village and often see nobody, not a soul. Compare that, if you can, with the year 1820. The lead miners rise at first light and [...]