August 2008

Your letters

Ravenscar’s royal visitor

I have been reading with great interest in this month’s Dalesman, the article on Ravenscar, the town that never was. I wonder if this tale about it is true: during his reign, King George III suffered a bout of madness. For his own good, and to save embarrassment, it was decided to send him up to stay at Ravenscar (though at that time it must have been called Peak). It was chosen as being a lovely and way-out place, where no one would recognise him and the story would not get out. The King stayed there for some time and gradually his reason came back to him, and he was able to return to London. This must have been a great relief to him, but he must surely have missed the peace and beauty of one of the most scenic parts of his realm.

Mrs Monica M Urquhart, Whitby

Make your own curds

Why should Mrs Monica Leonard of Kent (letter May Dalesman) bemoan the fact that she is unable to obtain ‘a good curd cheese’ in Kent? All she needs is a pint of fresh full cream milk, gently heated to about 98° to which is added a small teaspoon of rennet and allow to cool, strain through muslin and ‘hey presto’ there is the curd. The liquid can be used instead of water for pastry making.

From a Yorkshire woman resident in Worcestershire these many years.

Mrs L B Palfrey, Persore, Worcs

Cycling memories

The Yorkshire’s Own Atlantis article in May Dalesman really interested me. For we cyclists from the then Barnoldswick Clarion Cycling Club used to have our lunch at West End. This was taken at the Hanging Gate Inn. It sported a five-barred gate which bore the legend ‘This gate hangs and hinders none, refresh and pay and travel on’. It was a favourite stop after the long climb up Blubberhouses moor on our fix geared bikes.

Francis and Margaret Forrest, Barnoldswick

Last service

The article about the ‘Lost Atlantis’ (May 2008) brought back a lot of memories for me. As a teenager living in Harrogate in the 1960s, a group of friends and I used to regularly visit the deserted village before the dam was built and the valley flooded.

It was a fascinating place. It wasn’t quite like the ‘Marie Celeste’, with tables set for dinner, but it was certainly eerie going into houses which had recently been occupied and being able to look around them and comment on things like peoples’ tastes in wallpaper! From memory the houses and other buildings must have remained like that for a number of years before the flood came. My last memory of West End was attending the final service to be held at Holy Trinity Church, so well recreated by Robert Silkstone. The building was absolutely packed, with probably a bigger congregation that it had ever experienced as a quiet rural church. We kept the service sheet for many years but it has long since disappeared. I can’t remember the year but I’d guess it was around 1965. I wonder if any of your readers was also present on that occasion?

John Bolland, Wellington, NZ

From the heart

Of all the June issue letters, the comments by Julie Cowdery stood out as coming from the heart and prompted me to pen my own thoughts along similar lines.

Could we not manage perfectly well with half as many street lights? It’s lighter at night in the winter! For whom are we to save our water? Don’t we pay for it? Why not provide free water butts to add to the ever-increasing stock of plastic boxes, wheelie bins and recycling bags that clutter up our streets? Of course there is a great need to conserve, preserve and re-use the planet’s resources, but the clones in government seem purblind to the country’s needs. I don’t drive, nor squander money on any of the throw-away consumer goods that swamp the shops, yet I am content and optimistic that common sense may prevail.

G W Richards, Preston

Courage in war

What a wonderful article on the Charge of the Light Brigade at Balaclava. As a child born just after World War One, I was soon to learn of the immense personal courage of soldiers ‘Going over the top’ in France during 1914/1918, and I was astounded at the bravery of each and every man who had to find the personal courage to meet his possible death. At Balaclava they sat on horseback looking at an enemy a mile or so away who was about to kill him and then on the officers command advance at a trot towards certain death.

In my early years I thought a great deal about the ‘Charge’ learning Tennyson’s poem by heart and of men like General Gordon in Khartoum. I wondered with great respect how men obey orders knowing they are wrong for no cavalry ever charged canon, ever as in the Charge and in the Trenches. Could I ever meet that demand?

To me as a young boy this was the very essence of being British to offer ones life no matter what, for his country. I too had this ‘legacy’ thrust upon me as an Officer in World War Two in Burma in the Indian Army 1944.

Thank you ‘Dalesman’ for the information about one very brave soldier in the many similar historical episodes of British history. This man Thomas Johnson was a Yorkshire man too for I, as a Londoner was to learn that Cavalry came from this area, West and South Yorkshire. In Bramley even within a few yards from my house is the Cardigan Arms Pub standing on Lord Cardigan’s property. A small world indeed!

A few years ago I visited the Light Dragoons regimental museum in Barnsley after seeing an exhibit in the ‘Armouries’, Leeds. I also found the grave of another dragoon, a sergeant who also rode in the ‘Charge’ and is buried in Beckett’s Park Cemetery. I am most grateful for a splendid May Dalesman.

Len Fincham, Leeds

Who was Ray?

While rummaging about in a bookshop in Chipping Norton earlier this year, I found a map from the library of the Oldham Microscopical Society which was founded in 1864. The writing in black ink on the protective front of the map indicate it is map 18 of the Settle area and inside the words Ray, New Inn, Clapham, Lancaster, in loopy handwriting can clearly be made out.

I contacted Oldham local studies and Archives and their Christine Drummond was kind enough to provide some details of the Oldham Microscopical Society together with a copy of a local newspaper article from 1995 which indicated that the society was still in existence then. It appears that back in Victorian times cotton workers set up this society to help to educate themselves about the natural world around them. During the summer months countryside and moorland were explored and specimens collected. These were subsequently examined and recorded for posterity. The society was down to twenty members in 1995 and needed to attract more people.

Interesting though that was, I still needed to find out who ‘Ray’ was so my wife and I booked into the New Inn for May Day weekend hoping to complete the jigsaw but alas none of the staff at the hotel were able to shed any light on this mysterious gentleman.

The map itself is a first series ordnance survey and this together with the handwriting style would indicate possibly early 1900s or even earlier. The fact that the writer is just recording ‘Ray’ suggests that he is either a past owner, landlord, member of staff or a long term resident. Any answers would be gratefully received.

Martin Gill, Notts

Midnight in the graveyard

I enjoyed the article on Coverdale Ghostly Ruins (June), as it reminded me of a similar experience I had thirty years ago. We were visiting our son’s family and stopped overnight at a B&B in Henley. We parked the car in the town square, and carried our Beagle puppy upstairs, the landlady didn’t even raise her eyebrows when we also carried her dog basket up and put it beside the bed (where could you do that nowadays?).

It was a large comfy Victorian room with a large wardrobe all along one side, all quiet at midnight after a hard ride down the country, but about 2am, a little wet nose was waking me up, obviously telling me that she wanted to ‘go’. I quickly put on my coat over my nightie, pulled on some shoes (husband was fast asleep) and as he had recently had an operation for hernia, I thought it best not to wake him.

Down the creaking stairs, Sally on the lead, to the front door, it was a very heavy oak door with three or four bolts and a large key in the lock (more appropriate for a castle than a small hotel) undoing everything very quietly we slipped slipped outside, leaving the door slightly ajar, out into the empty square – but where to go?

I didn’t fancy a stroll by the river a hundred yards or so away. So the churchyard it had to be – Sally only liked grass to ‘squat’ on. It was a lovely moonlight night, but the shadows from the church were so much darker, and the gravestones looked very eerie, but on we trotted to find a patch of grass.

Eventually, with my nightie sweeping the damp grass, Sally found ‘the right spot’, and then about turn, back to the old oak door at top speed. I don’t think anyone saw us, if they did, they would blame it on the number of drinks they had just consumed.

Husband did not believe me when he awoke, and found out that I had been wandering round the graveyard in the moonlight, and no one else had heard the creaking stairs or squeaky locks. Nowadays the burglar alarm would have gone off. We often laughed about it.

M Timperley, Manchester

Much is owed

In response to the letter by Julie Cowdrey (June) I am a frequent visitor to Wharfedale and I cannot say that low-flying aircraft have ever unduly disturbed my enjoyment of the beautiful countryside or the tranquillity of the dale. Perhaps Ms Cowdrey should be reminded that it was a ‘few’ young men sixty years ago, the training of whose successors she is now critical, who ensured her freedom to now enjoy the dales.

Our armed forces are made up of young people with a sense of commitment to the job they do in maintaining our freedom and it is up to us who owe them so much to give them all the support we can.

David J Francis, Bradford

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Dalesman, The Water Mill, Broughton Hall, Skipton, North Yorkshire BD23 3AG
Or email: paul@dalesman.co.uk

The editor reserves the right to edit letters for length and clarity.