The door knocker at the Castle is a little disappointing. It has no great age, no weight in the hand and no interesting patina. I am glad because now I can replace it with impunity.
What to choose? Victorian, of course. I have browsed through various cruciform, gothic inspired ones, with a Pugin twist. There are the usual suspects: dolphins and lions. Too predictable, even when they are of fine quality. I have eschewed anything too Arts and Crafts or anything with a touch of Victorian sentimentality: hands intertwined, a hand clutching a posy or anything bidding me ‘Welcome’.
How to epitomise the Castle in a door knocker? Something vegetative would suit it. Something not shiny, to reflect its decrepit state. Something weighty, reflecting the stone castellations (actually the castellations are concrete, when did this happen and why? Good job they’re not visible). Something coastal. No, nothing coastal.
Last week I was tempted into buying one. I was born in Lincoln, and suddenly felt I had returned home when I found a Lincoln Imp knocker in a London antique shop. I spent my youth spying the Imp up in the Angel Choir, sometimes late at night thanks to a crafty, inebriated Uncle who had the skill of getting into the Cathedral after dark. These sort of things could be done in the 1970’s. So, there the Imp was, sneering from the antique shop cabinet, with his slightly louche eye. Heavy in the hand, too shiny, but I can bury him in the garden for a bit. I like him so much, I don’t even mind if he was knocked off in China last week, as I hear most of the dolphin knockers are.
So my door knocker will announce that a Lincolnshire Yellowbelly lives here. Poor Jason, he’s from Harlepool. We’ll have to hang the monkey elsewhere.