On this day in 1811, Lord B was firing off a letter to his close friend Hobhouse as he languished inside his crumbling ancestral seat at Newstead Abbey – home to the notorious and profligate Byron family since the Reformation and which lies in the heart of Sherwood Forest in Nottingham.
It was as I was photographing the wonderful tribute to Byron that I suddenly became aware of a huge, crashing noise and which turned out to be the most torrential thunderstorm and as the storm threatened to bring down the very rafters of the church, I thought it all rather prophetic that I should find myself confined to a place within feet of Byron who had breathed his last as mother nature had raged around the town of Missolonghi on this very day in 1824…
Two hundred and thirty two years ago – Lord Byron made his appearance and even though he shuffled off this mortal planet in 1824 – I still intend to enjoy a large slice or three of this delicious cake in his honour…
Since discovering the hidden treasure that is Newstead Abbey – I remain enraptured by the Gothic ruin which as the ancestral home of Lord Byron influenced much of his wonderful poetry and I ALWAYS eagerly anticipate any visit…
Throughout his short life and in the years that have followed Byron was always considered to be a wonderful mass of contradictions and one with peculiar regularity can still arouse fury, passion, loyalty and debate; however, Byron would only think of himself as le diable boiteux – the lame devil.
The Regency Recondite 