We're going to the Winchester

I had occasion to visit Winchester a couple of days ago to deliver a talk to the Hampshire Skeptics Society. And it was a great excuse to spend a few hours walking around the city. There's a lot to see in England's former capital. You can watch a video of some highlights here:

   

What isn't in the video are some of the things I saw during my previous visits. Such as the crypt of the cathedral which, being below the water table and excavated from porous chalk, is prone to occasional  flooding. There's an interesting Anthony Gormley statue there of a man deeply involved in reading his Bible. Depending on how much rain we've had, he's sometimes up to his waist in water.

 There's some great street art too - I liked this piece by 'Hendog'. His/her/their website is here.

Here's a sundial from the cathedral gardens and a few of the older buildings to be seen in the town centre, including the West Gate - part of the original city walls..

I did enjoy visiting the Great Hall and seeing Elizabeth Frink's Horse and Rider once again.

But, best of all, it was great to meet up with an old school chum from Cornwall, Crispian Jago. Here's a man who was told over seven years ago that he had a year to live and has defied all expectations and our wildest hopes by beating off cancer in most of his major organs. May he go on doing the same for decades more.

Hunting the Earl of Rone - Video

One day I will visit Coombe Martin in late May to witness this extraordinary event. In the meantime ...

 

A Wizard of an App

I'm not a big fan of phone apps. I've tried various plant and fungi recognition apps and they're okay but they do make quite a few mistakes. This was a real issue for the fungi apps, one of which told me that a poisonous Yellow Stainer was edible.

However, I've found a couple that I rate. The first is the Woodland Trust's Tree Identification app, British Trees. The other is the Merlin Bird ID app.

The tree app gives you a choice of options. 

You can identify a tree by its features,

Alternatively, there's a photographic guide by species. Each entry shows the main identifying features, such as leaf shape, fruit, bark texture etc.

I reckon it's pretty good. 

Then there's the Merlin App. This allows you to identify birds by a photo or by birdsong.

I've found it to be pretty accurate and I've only ever had one erroneous result when it suggested that a duck was nearby. If it was, it was hiding. Which immediately made me think of this old Far Side cartoon by Gary Larson.

There's also a handy reference section where you can listen to recorded bird song. 

 

On the whole, two very good - and FREE - additions to your phone.

Vlog: Scone or Scone? Is there a correct pronunciation?

 

Vlog: Bush Porn and the lack of insects

Another rambling blog about diminishing insects, skylarks, treehouses and teenage naughtiness.

 

The Amersham Martyrs - The Lollards

A friend of mine recenty posted this image on Instagram.

He was in Chesham, a town not very far from me (about 8 miles away). The plaque relates to a terrible incident that occured in the 16th century in Chesham and its neighbouring town, Amersham.

By coincidence, I had to go to Amersham today (about six miles away) and I knew that there is a monument to the group now known as The Amersham Martyrs. So I thought I'd seek it out. 

The Amersham Martyrs were burned at the stake in the early 1500s. They were Lollards - followers of John Wycliffe of Oxford - who translated the Bible into English in the 1300s. The Lollards, who were given that nickname because they didn't have academic backgrounds (the word means 'to mumble or doze'), denounced the wealth of the Catholic Church, devoted themselves to the care of the sick and poor, and did not believe that bread and wine changed into the body and blood of Christ at Communion. However, their main demand was the right to read the Bible in English. 

In 1511, Bishop Smith started an enquiry into religious dissent in Amersham and William Tylsworth was burned to death. Ten years later, trials under Bishop Longland ended in the burning of one woman and five more men.

The Memorial lists the Lollards who died: 

WILLIAM TYLESWORTH  - BURNED 1506 (JOAN CLARKE, HIS MARRIED DAUGHTER, WAS COMPELLED TO LIGHT THE FAGGOTS TO BURN HER FATHER) 

THOMAS BARNARD - BURNED 1521 

JAMES MORDEN  - BURNED 1521 

JOHN SCRIVENER - BURNED 1521 (HIS CHILDREN WERE COMPELLED TO LIGHT THEIR FATHER'S PYRE) 

ROBERT RAVE - BURNED 1521 

THOMAS HOLMES - BURNED 1521 

JOAN NORMAN - BURNED 1521 

It also lists other local people identified as Lollards who were kiled elsewhere: 

ROBERT COSIN OF GREAT MISSENDEN - BURNED BUCKINGHAM 1506 

THOMAS CHASE  - STRANGLED AT WOBURN BUCKS (HIS BODY WAS BURIED AT NORLAND WOODS 1514) 

THOMAS MAN - BURNED AT SMITHFIELD 1518 

THOMAS HARDING - BURNED AT CHESHAM 1532 

The monument was erected in 1931 by The Protestant Alliance and was unveiled by a Mrs L R Raine, a direct descendant of martyr Thomas Harding. 

At the unveiling of the memorial the assembled crowd was exhorted by a speaker to maintain 'a Protestant King on a Protestant throne and be ruled by a Protestant parliament'. 

There's also a memorial - a slate plaque - in Market Square, Old Amersham which was created to commemorate the 500th anniversary of the death of the first Amersham martyr. 

It was created by Annet Stirling, a local stone-carver. The use of the same text in Latin and English is to remind the reader that the martyrs died because they were determined to worship in English.

Blessed Litha

I had a sudden realisation last week. I've known about the Wheel of the Year for a long time now. It's a representation of the calendar year that incorporates the eight cardinal points, or Sabbats, that were celebrated by our ancestors (for a more detailed explanation see here). Here is a version of it by Porche Gardener and used with permission.

 

What you see here are four Sabbats - Yule, Ostara, Litha and Mabon arranged like a cross. They are known as 'Cross Days' and they mark the two solstices and the two equinoxes.

Then, between them, there are the four 'Quarter Day' Sabbats that mark the changing of the seasons. 

But here's the thing ... 

I suddenly realised that, although the Wheel of the Year is a fairly modern diagram, it maps almost exactly onto a Celtic Cross, such as this fine one at Constantine in my native Cornwall.

I'm sure that's not just a coincidence. And yet, I cannot find any content - either in books or on the internet - that shows that the two can be overlaid. It's not mentioned on the Wheel of the Year's Wikipedia page. In fact, it goes so far as to say that the Celts had no overarching narrative for the passing of the year. So it does appear to be a happy coincidence.

Meanwhile, one of the main Sabbats - Litha - is with us today. It's the Summer Solstice when the Earth is at its closest to the Sun (and recent temperatures attest to that). Midsummer is one of the four solar holidays and is considered the turning point at which summer reaches its height and the sun shines longest. 

The name Litha is taken from Bede's The Reckoning of Time (De Temporum Ratione), written in the 8th century. It preserves a list of the (then-obsolete) Anglo-Saxon names for the months of the early Germanic calendar: Ærra Liða (first or preceding Liða) roughly corresponds to June in the Gregorian calendar, and Æfterra Liða (following Liða) to July. 

Bede writes that, 'Litha means gentle or navigable, because in both these months the calm breezes are gentle and they were wont to sail upon the smooth sea'. 

Modern Druids celebrate this festival as Alban Hefin. The sun in its greatest strength is greeted and celebrated on this holiday. It also marks a turning point, for the sun also begins its time of decline as the wheel of the year turns. Arguably the most important festival of the Druid traditions, due to the great focus on the sun and its light as a symbol of divine inspiration, Druid groups frequently celebrate this event at Stonehenge and other sites of importance.

Litha is also celebrated by great midsummer bonfires, a subject I've already discussed here. Back in my native Cornwall they will be celbrating Tansys Golowan - the Bonfires of the Feast of St John - in a few days time. Beacons will be lit starting at Chapel Carn Brea near Lands End and ending at Kit Hill near the Devon Border. And the Golowan Festival in Penzance will celebrate with music, parades and fireworks (see here).

Sumer is icumen in.

Blessed Litha.

Happy birthday to Colganology2

Blessed Litha!

And happy anniversary to me.

Exactly one year ago today I backed up and then deleted all of my previous blogs - 15 years of content - and created this new blog. The reasons why are explained here in my first ever blogpost. It was a huge upset but it was necessary, sadly.

But now a year has passed by and, 619 blogposts later, I'm still in business! 

That makes me happy. 

I've written about folk music and traditions, notable dates and fascinating ceremonies. I've championed the work of many British artists - some living, some who have left us. I've taken you foraging and shown you some of the safer plants, berries and flowers that you can eat and enjoy for free. We've visited towns and other places of note. And I started a Youtube channel to post video blogs - though they also get posted here too.

And now that the Wheel of the Year has fully turned and the Summer Solstice is upon us again, it's time to look forward to Blog Year 2.

Basically, it'll be more of the same. Though maybe not quite so much content. I'm now working on a new book. And in September I start studying for a Masters Degree.

But I'll post as often as I can about things I find interesting and that I hope you might find interesting too.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Myth becomes Reality

A couple of days ago on Fathers' Day, I mentioned my granddad, Fred Dawe. He was born into a long line of farmers and, at the time my Mum was born, he and wife Joan - along with his parents and his uncle and aunt - ran Tinnell Farm near Saltash in Cornwall. During the war, and being in a reserved occupation, he was part of the local Home guard. The Dawe family also took responsibility for three brothers evacuated from London - Les, Ern and Vic Cummings - who would spend 12 years living on the farm as their parents had died back in London.

The Dawes of Tinnell Farm: Back (LtoR) Joan Dawe (my grandmother), Brian Dawe (Uncle), Fred Dawe (grandfather), Meg Dawe (my mum), Bertha Crabb & Arnold Crabb (great aunt and uncle). Front (LtoR) Mr and Mrs H W Dawe (great grandfather and grandmother), Jean Crabb (1st Cousin once removed). 

By the time I was born my grandparents lived in a large town house in Saltash with a creepy attic and an amazing basement 'area' where my brothers and I would rummage through boxes of old Eagle comics when we visited. 

Grandad Fred had left the world of farming and his day job was driving a lorry around local farms collecting full milk churns to take to the dairy - I even went out on the rounds with him a few times.

So how did he own this big house, I wondered? And why wasn't he a farmer any more? 

The story I was told was that he'd invented some kind of muckspreader and sold the patent to an agricultural machinery company. That had provided enough cash to retire from farming, buy a nice house and be set for life. The reason he now collected milk churns was that he'd got bored - he went back to work, even though he didn't need the money, because he couldn't stand being idle. And he chose churn collecting as it kept him close to his old friends in the farming community. But then, he also told me that he had shot down a German bomber when one flew over the farm, and that a Spitfire had once landed in the farm fields. So I took his stories with a pinch of salt. 

But then ... 

One of the lads who had been evacuated to the farm during the war wrote a memoir in the early 2000s and sent my Mum a copy. I got to read it recently and, amazingly, Vic's memoirs back up my grandad's stories. 

In the book, he recalls seeing my grandad firing at the German bomber and he writes that they later heard that a bomber had crashed into the sea off Devonport. Could my grandad's boast have been true? 

It also transpires that the Spitfire story was true too. A Spitfire really did land on the farm after developing engine trouble and, to this day, Tinnel Farm is listed as having a private airstrip. 

And then there was this page and photo ...

'Fred Dawe, known as my 'Uncle Fred' lived in the lower cottages with his wife Joan. He was a great character and was also a sporting man, although his leisure time activities were more of a country nature. This included shooting and hunting and several other activities which perhaps the local landowners might not have approved of and certainly the salmon fishing authorities would have frowned upon to say the least if only they had only known! 

He was one of the most happy and contented men that I have known, and never more so than when he had "bagged' a pheasant with his trusty .22 rifle. He was a crack shot and very rarely missed his target. I don't think I ever heard him speak badly of anyone, or do anything to hurt anyone in the whole of my life and he was a man that a boy could safely try to emulate if he wished to become a better person - not withstanding his anti-establishment activities. 

He also invented things, and one of the things he built for the farm was a "Dung Spreader". This was made from the back axle of a small car. A rotating platform was built onto the prop shaft universal joint and the axle was then inverted and pulled behind a trailer. The platform rotated and spread the manure evenly over the ground. The photograph shows the actual spreader that he built and a very effective piece of equipment it was, saving both time and great deal of hard work.'

It seems I did my grandad a disservice.

What an extraordinary man he was. And having the kind of grandfather, and father, that I had probably goes some way to explaining the sort of man I am today.

Vlog: Yet another miscellaneous meander

Froghopper, Pheasantberry, Goatsbeard and Hawthorn - not a firm of Dickensian solicitors but some of the items featured in this new rambling miscellany of nature notes.

   

Some photos from recent walks - Goatsbeard (Meadow salsify), baby Acorns, the golden hour before sunset, Pineapple Weed, Field Maple and a very tired Pug.

Fathers' Day

Every Fathers' Day I am painfully reminded of the people I have lost - in particular my Father and my Grandfathers. 

My Dad, Myghal, was unfairly taken from us when he was just 51. But, in the time we had together, I learned so much from him. He was a writer and an artist. And he was a countryman. In most of the early photos I have of him he can be seen with a shotgun or proudly displaying a fish he'd caught for his supper. In some of the earliest photos of me I seem to be surrounded by dead things.

The other man in the photo is my maternal grandfather, Fred. He was a farmer by trade, as was his father and his father before him and my Mum and her brother grew up on his farm in Cornwall. I have one extraordinary photo that shows me, as a baby, with my Mum, her father and his father. Four generations in one image.

I also have a few lovely old photos of life on the farm - the final image is of my mother as a little girl. She's now in her eighties.

I learned a huge amount of country lore from my Dad and my grandfather. They taught me to hunt and to forage. They taught me how to identify the trees and the birds and to recognise patterns in the weather. 

My other grandad, Ted, was a sailor. Originally from Belfast he joined the Navy as a young man and, post-war, settled first in Looe in Cornwall and then in Plymouth. He was a poet and diarist and I heard many wonderful stories from him about his travels.

Fred had plenty of war stories too. As a farmer he was in a reserved occupation so he joined the local Home Guard. His job was to stop the Germans getting into England, if they landed in Cornwall and vice versa. This included guarding the famous Brunel railway bridge that crosses the Tamar between Devon and Cornwall. 

He also claimed, until his dying day, that he shot down a German bomber with his shotgun. The planes used to fly in low over his farm en route to bomb the shipyards across the river. He loosed off two barrels from his 12 bore and the plane began to trail smoke. This was corroborated by Vic Cummings, one of three evacuee brothers that my grandparents fostered throughout the war. Vic, from Dagenham would go on to write his Cornish childhood memoirs and it's a joy to read.

I could write for hours about these wonderful men. I'm glad I pumped them for information while they were still alive. But there is so much more I wish I could still ask them.

Happy Fathers' Day.