MOST historians specialise in a particular period or subject, such as the Napoleonic Wars or the exploitation of women from caveman times to present day.

Retired history teacher Frances Clamp is no exception, but her special subject is a bit more unusual, not to mention controversial.

Frances has made herself an expert on the history of Basildon.

The very fact that some people might dismiss the words history of Basildon as a contradiction in terms is one reason why she has taken the town under her wing, historically speaking.

Years of keeping discipline in classroom show, when she says, pleasantly but in a way that brooks no contradiction: “People, especially children, need to be in touch with the past of the place where they live, and Basildon has a rich past. The idea that Basildon doesn’t have any history is easy to disprove. We just need to learn to look around us.”

A number of books have been compiled about the town, but Frances now offers a first. Basildon, Our Heritage, is a field guide to exploring the place on the ground, a manual to opening our eyes and looking around us, just as Frances urges.

Frances was already an established writer on local history, author of titles like Southend Voices and Essex Living Memories, when she took up the cause of Basildon. “I like the town, it is a very interesting place, but it has a habit of hiding its most interesting features,” she says. “You need to send yourself on a voyage of discovery to find them.”

A case in point is the site where Frances was photographed for this article. She herself chose the location, the armillary sundial.

The what? Many Basildonians probably have no idea of where or what this is. It’s also a fact that a good proportion of those don’t-knows probably pass within a few feet of it on a daily basis.

The sundial sits in a hollow in the middle of Basildon’s Roundacre roundabout. It is surrounded by sunken gardens and approached by pedestrian subways.

“How many towns,” says Frances, “have a roundabout like this? Here I am, surrounded by cars on all sides, and yet it’s a place of peace where you can enjoy the open air and have a quiet conversation without raising your voice. Basildon is full of special features like this.”

Frances also feels very strongly about roots. “A sense of belonging can help children develop in all sorts of ways,” she says. “A big part of this is knowing where their roots lie. That’s where history can help, and the place to start studying history is on your own doorstep.”

It could be argued that Basildon starts at a disadvantage. The first turf on the site of Basildon New Town was turned a mere 59 years ago. Frances, however, views this in a positive light. “New towns are interesting in themselves. The great idea of creating a town from scratch is a bit of history in its own right,” she says.

Basildon is no spring chicken anyway. “The term Basildon New Town suggests that nothing existed before the creation of the new present town. This is completely wrong,” says Frances. New Stone Age man lived in the Timberlog Lane/Whitmore Way area, his Bronze Age successors occupied a patch of what is now Swan Mead, and the name Basildon comes from an Anglo-Saxon tribal chieftain, the original Basil. Each of them created a community from scratch. So even new towns are nothing new in Basildon.

The sense of purpose is clear on every page of Frances’ book, and others are also working to get it across. Basildon, Our Heritage, is directly linked to a practical scheme, the Basildon Heritage Trail, designed to get children and their families out and about around the town, examining its history at first hand. You'’ve heard of the book of the film. This is the book of the trail.

The trail was set up by Vin Harrop, the one-time theatre manager recruited in 1967 to run the original arts centre and Towngate theatre. He was subsequently joined by Frances and by photographer Bob Fisher. Working with a number of local primary schools, they are using the heritage trail, and now Frances’ book, to put local children in touch with their roots.

A quick trawl through the list of sites on the trail confirms Frances’ point. Basildon, no less than any other town, is packed with history and folklore.

One particular site on the Heritage Trail sums this up. Without the book as guide, you could spend a lifetime missing this spot. It is no more than a small open space on Clicketts Hill, surrounded by bushes and a few houses.

This apparently unremarkable place, though, is the site of the ancient Basildon Hall – possibly the only stately home ever to be blown up by a bottle of whiskey.

The medieval building had royal connections. At one stage its occupant was Edmund Woodstock, Earl of Kent, the son of King Edward I. But by the beginning of the 19th century, Basildon Hall had come down in the world. The once grand palace now did service as an inn.

One night in 1834, a travelling salesman arrived to spend the night at the inn. He ordered two bottles of whiskey to be sent up to his room. The salesman drank the contents of one bottle, then stuck a lighted candle in the top. Then he uncorked the second bottle – and keeled over in a stupor.

The flame from the candle made contact with the whiskey fumes from the second bottle, creating an explosion and fire that destroyed the building.

It killed the salesman, and another woman guest in an adjoining room. The mystery lady was never identified. All that anybody could recall about her was that she had arrived in a red cloak.

The old house was rebuilt, in Victorian style, but demolished in 1961 as part of the new town development. Sightings of the ghost of a lady in a red cloak have been reported at regular intervals ever since, especially by those who have enjoyed a few whiskies themselves.

There you have it. History, heritage, folklore, royalty, architecture and a 19th century case of binge drinking gone wrong. Basildon had it all, way back.