Our Own Love Letters to Buildings

I love having that local connection to some of the best prehistoric monuments in the world. I’ve a great family memory of climbing to the top of Silbury Hill.

You started it, you wove the enchantment first, snared me good and proper. You’re not the youngest any more, but that’s the attraction isn’t it. I’ve found out there have been plenty others before me and I know you’ll never just be mine; there will be others after me too. You invited me down twenty worn steps into the dark vault of your past, each step a century of experience, peeling off your layers for me one by one, whispering the secrets of when you were young, telling me how you’ve changed with the years.

There is something at once both reassuring, and also, to be honest, a little mind-boggling to think that these stones have been stood here for over 4,000 years - I’m not sure anyone could ever pass by them without marvelling at their timelessness. I hope they’re still stood here, surprising and intriguing passers-by, 4,000 years from now.

I first visited the Roman Baths when I was a kid, and with my child-like imagination I saw Romans wading into those green pools and Georgians gossiping as they took the waters. I remember feeling like I could reach out and touch history and that feeling of wonder has never really left.

Dear Whitby Abbey, you are my favourite. We met on the windiest afternoon, after an epic climb of the 199 steps. I touched your old stones, battered by the Northern winds, and in return you told me the stories of those who lived, prayed and dreamt here. After all that I had the best pie ever back in town, and maybe it is another reason why I love you so much.