Directly ahead, you’ll see a sturdy two-storey stone building with rough stone walls, bold buttresses, and a striking wooden porch that sticks out above a few arched doorways-if you spot the small windows set high up and a roof that hips down at each end, you’ve found the Tithe Barn.
Now, imagine you’re standing here in the middle of the 14th century. The air smells of hay, horses, and maybe even a hint of wet stone after the rain. In those days, this incredible barn was the main storehouse for the Archbishop’s Palace just a stone’s throw away. Built by Archbishop Courtenay, whose fingers-you might say-were in a lot of medieval pies, the barn was the place where local farmers would bring a tenth of their crops; this wasn’t a voluntary donation, mind you, but a tax to keep the palace well-stocked and the church’s belly full.
But it wasn’t just used for storing goods. As the centuries rolled by, the building became the palace stables. Picture the thunder of hooves echoing off these old rag-stone walls, and stable boys ducking under the heavy wooden beams, trying to avoid the-let’s call them ‘gifts’-left behind by the Archbishop’s horses. Those buttresses you see weren’t just for show; they helped hold up the barn’s great hipped roof, built with enormous crown posts-basically, medieval engineering flexing its muscles.
The real twist in the tale comes much later. In the 20th century, a carriage-loving mayor named Garrard Tyrwhitt-Drake saw horse-drawn vehicles heading for the scrapyard as cars took over Britain’s roads. With a heart as grand as this barn, he saved dozens of carriages, from Queen Victoria’s own state landau to humble village carts, and opened the country’s first carriage museum right here in 1946. So, as you stand outside this medieval time capsule, listen for a faint clatter of hooves or the creak of wooden wheels-history’s echo, keeping the past very much alive.
