On our way back to North Yorkshire from the Lake District, we stopped at another English castle. The medieval castle of Brougham. Now fallen into ruin from it’s birth in the 1200s and its peak up to the early 1700s, this castle is charming in it’s disarray. The ceilings have long collapsed as have many of the walls, although it is still possible to climb up to the keep in the main building and look down over the grounds.
This is my favorite castle thus far because there are clumps of purple flowers clinging to every crumbling wall. They have made their way up to the highest reaches of the towers and seem to smile down on visitors as they gaze upward.
The castle, like many projects on this great island, used old stones from nearby Roman ruins. There was no use of subtlety. Look up while standing in the fourth floor oratory and you can read the writings on an ancient Roman headstone, now upside down and part of the ceiling.
All in all, worth the stop. However, there is a brother-castle farther up the highway named Brough Castle that we did not have time to visit. It was owned by the same family and is in the same region, thus the similar name. Perhaps another time.