St Albans Clock Tower

SITE UNSEEN

Andrew John Davies
Wednesday 12 April 1995 18:02 EDT
Comments

Your support helps us to tell the story

From reproductive rights to climate change to Big Tech, The Independent is on the ground when the story is developing. Whether it's investigating the financials of Elon Musk's pro-Trump PAC or producing our latest documentary, 'The A Word', which shines a light on the American women fighting for reproductive rights, we know how important it is to parse out the facts from the messaging.

At such a critical moment in US history, we need reporters on the ground. Your donation allows us to keep sending journalists to speak to both sides of the story.

The Independent is trusted by Americans across the entire political spectrum. And unlike many other quality news outlets, we choose not to lock Americans out of our reporting and analysis with paywalls. We believe quality journalism should be available to everyone, paid for by those who can afford it.

Your support makes all the difference.

St Albans Clock Tower

I admit I am biased towards St Albans. My much loved Granny was married in the cathedral, my Mum went to school here, my sister lives nearby with one husband and two cherubic nephews and - not least - at age six I fell into the lake in Verulamium Park and was rescued in the nick of time from swans who clearly looked on me as an unexpected but potentially tasty snack.

But apart from these personal associations, St Albans has much going for it. Not just the Roman link represented by poor old Alban, Britain's first martyr, killed on the hill because he refused to surrender his Christian beliefs. Nor the Roman theatre, which gives such a vivid impression of past dramatic excitements, let alone the Thameslink train, which speeds Snalbaners into London faster that the inhabitants of Hampstead and Highgate marooned on the Northern line of the Underground.

Like the best of city life, St Albans combines the virtues of old and new.

Saturday night in St Albans makes Saturnalia look like the tea party of a particularly dull vicar. Chastity belts are standard issue to the city's virtuous sons and daughters. A fine time is had by everyone else. Sunday afternoon is the best time for exploring yet more St Albans nooks and crannies, notably the delights of old-world Fishpool Street and Kingsbury Water Mill. One of the city's finest pubs is the Fighting Cocks, where you can still enjoy - if that is the right word - a drink in the Cockpit, where the fights were held.

At this point the eyelids are beginning to feel heavy. Walk up to the medieval Clock Tower, whose bell once signalled the start of the day, at four in the morning, and ended it at eight in the evening. Look, ponder and now you know the basicproblem of life in the Middle Ages: they got the day the wrong way around.

The Clock Tower is in the High Street. It is open to the public on Saturdays and Sundays, Easter to mid-September.

Join our commenting forum

Join thought-provoking conversations, follow other Independent readers and see their replies

Comments

Thank you for registering

Please refresh the page or navigate to another page on the site to be automatically logged inPlease refresh your browser to be logged in