Monthly Archives: October 2024

A Brave and Thankful Village

Poppies and corn wreath

A “Thankful Village” is one where, at the end of the war, all its men returned alive. It is a term coined by Arthur Mee, the Bill Bryson of his day, in The King’s England series of 1936.He identified 32 of these villages, a number which has been increased to 53 after further research. To put it in context, there are  43,452 towns and villages in the UK. There would have been slightly more in the Great War because Ireland was still part of the UK until 1922. There are 50 in England, 3 in Wales and none have yet been identified in either Scotland or Ireland.

The village of Knowlton is one of these villages. Some villages are doubly thankful because they also lost nobody in WW2. Knowlton isn’t one of those, but it does have another distinction – Britain’s Bravest Village. The Weekly Dispatch newspaper held a competition in 1914 to recognise excellence in recruiting. The measure of bravery was to see how many volunteered for war service compared to the number of inhabitants, and the cut-off date was  28 February 1915. Twelve men joined up from a population of 39. When the result was announced there were complaints – mainly based on claims that most of the twelve, although they worked for the estate of Knowlton Court, were not actually residents.

Poppies at MENCAP Gardens

The village of Shillingstone, in Dorset, claims that its vicar objected, on the grounds that Knolton is only a hamlet, and that Shillingstone as runner-up, was then elevated to winner. The problem with this story is that Shillingstone wasn’t the runner-up, that was a village in Scotland called Mennock. Of course, Mennock is also a hamlet (a settlement without a church) so maybe Shillingstone objected to them too. But Shillingstone weren’t third either, that was the Orkney Islands, also in Scotland. It’s all looking a bit unreliable as a story. Anyway, Knowsley’s prize was a war memorial, which is ironic as they had no casualties to put on it. They took the course that was followed by several other places, of adding the names of the survivors.

The memorial is by George Frampton, noted sculptor, probably best known for his Peter Pan statue, or the Edith Cavell memorial.

If you look at the Mennock picture closely, you will see  a row of poppies in the foreground just like the ones we made on the farm, using the bottoms of pop bottles. THis was what prompted my selection of photos for the post. Strangely, although Mennock appears to have an Aberdeen granite war memorial by Frampton, the actual prize offered was either a Roll of Honour or a bronze medallion, according to different newspaper reports. There were several similar competitions on a local basis.

Considering that I’d never heard of the competition before I started to research an In Memorium card, I have manged to make a blog post out of it, and am likely to do more digging as it’s an interesting subject. I have just found the rules in the paper – it does state villages, but makes it clear that no borough and no place over 5,000 in population can enter. People don’t always differentiate between villages and hamlets, but it’s clearly a competition for smaller places.

Poppies and Rosemary in MENCAP gardens.

Have You Ever Heard of an Aplustre?

If yes, you are very well read, and a Roman scholar. If, like me, you haven’t, you are about to be educated. It’s the stern decoration of a Roman ship. It’s not a word I’ve ever had a use for before, and, apart from using it as a subject for a post, I have little use for it now.

It appears on the design of a coin of the Roman Republic that is featured on the Facebook page of the Numismatic Society of Nottinghamshire, which is where I saw it. This is the reason that collecting coins, or indeed anything, can be so educational.  If you have nothing better to do, go and have a look. If you can, push a few “Like” buttons – it encourages Steve who does all the work loading things up. He also writes the bits on ancient coins while I try my best to bring the quality threshold down with 300 word pieces on plastic bus tokens, aluminium medallions and things from the junk box.

Admiral Vernon and Commodore Brown. See previous post.

The next talk is Olympic coins – it’s given by one of our more polished speakers, so there will be no equipment failure this time. We have some good speakers this season, including someone talking about the legendary Fishpool Hoard in November. I’m not sure if I will be at that or not as Julia would like to move before the cold weather starts.

Meanwhile, I have just had an email from the final editor of the month. One tanka and one tanka prose accepted. So that’s four submissions sent and four acceptances. I will not lie, it feels good. However, it could be better. There is always the chance of having two accepted, as I have sometimes done, so there is still room for improvement.

My Orange Parker Pen

More Moving

We had a good day yesterday. The highlight was sitting in the new kitchen and looking out of the window to see the birdlife. A cormorant flying over to the local lakes. I’m tempted to try putting sardines in the bird feeders, but cormorants aren’t well known for visiting bird tables. I may try leaving some paper bags out. You never know, it might tempt them down.

Now, at this point many of you will be perplexed. All will be revealed if you follow the link. Others out there, who are familiar with the poem, might wonder why a well-respected author (except by Evelyn Waugh) should descend to this level of doggerel, particularly as the cormorant and shag are related, though not the same bird.

Waugh wasn’t a fan of Isherwood. Having put his affairs in order in 1939 and made sure that his family would be financially secure in the event of his death, Waugh went to war. Isherwood and Auden went to America.  Waugh was critical of their decision but I can’t quote it because I (a) can’t remember it and (b) he used a word that modern readers would find upsetting. He also mocked them as the poets Parsnip and Pimpernel “bravely opposing fascism from New York” in Put Out More Flags.

Red Kite

Waugh is a bit like Roald Dahl in many ways – brilliant but unpleasant. Their views may be dated and repellent to today’s sensibilities, but when it was necessary. I feel a quote from Kipling coming on, but will resist.

However, I digress.

As we chatted and marvelled that we had just seen a cormorant from the kitchen window, another shape wheeled above us. large bird, soaring in the sky, pronounced elbows in the way it held its wings and a V  notched into the end of its tail. Red Kite! I’ve seen them over Peterborough, but this was right over my new garden.

It was a very cheering sight.

Red Kites in Wales – feeding time

Words

Cottage loaves – various staes of success

I wrote two posts after the last one was published, and filed them both. One was about the growing corruption in the world and the UK’s slide down to 20th position in the league tables. The other was about writing poetry. One was boring and the other was boring and self-indulgent.

They ended up around 400 words each and the only thing worth preserving is that out of my last four submissions I have had three poems accepted. I have not heard back from the fourth.

That’s over 800 words I wrote for no real purpose. It’s nice to know I can knock out 800 words without a problem, less nice to know that it does me little good. I really should divert all those words into something useful.

Apple juice

I could write begging letters. I imagine that most of them will be unsuccessful but it’s a thought. I did once, when I was young and enthusiastic, write some letters to newspapers that paid for letters, and did get several cheques. However, it was difficult striking just the right note (a topic of interest balanced with the right degree of outrage) and I soon moved on to doing filler pieces for a magazine that took interesting facts and scattered them in little boxes throughout the text. I can’t quite remember what happened to them – some editorial change that meant they weren’t needed. After that I tried full length articles and short stories but it’s a lot of work for little success in a crowded market, and I had kids by then.

That’s probably the best thing about kids – an instant excuse for everything I didn’t quite do. However, it’s noticeable that my two successful periods of writing poetry fall either side of the kids taking all my time.

I rest my case.

Making cider vinegar

 

Pictures are from October 2015.

 

 

Tree Gibraltar Point, Lincolnshire - dramatic setting

More Thoughts on Planting Trees

Derbyshire Trees

“A society grows great when old men plant trees in whose shade they know they shall never sit.”

It’s supposed to be an ancient Greek proverb, but it isn’t. I’m fascinated by the way these things twist and turn and a 1950s sentence in a book becomes both “ancient Greek” and a proverb. However, I’m just as bad – I often say that my grandmother told me something when she didn’t. She did tell me that the weather was bad due to Russian satellites, not to trust American servicemen offering nylons and not to buy rabbits without the skins. The last is the only really useful advice of the three. Despite “the spirit of the blitz” it was known that skinned cats were sold as rabbits, and butchers were prosecuted for it. I never really enjoyed rabbit meat as I always find it too sweet, so I haven’t eaten rabbit since 1982, when I was on an economy drive.

Backlit Sumac Tree in the MENCAP garden

I have planted a few trees over the years, but I’ve also had a few problems with one of the neighbours, who thought I could control where the leaves fall. I can’t, and the law, sensibly, doesn’t expect me to.  Over the years we have lost two birches, a hawthorn, a crab apple and a laburnum from the neighboring gardens. Suburban gardens really aren’t made for tree planting. I may write to the government and suggest they start community arboretums. Or arboreta.  That’s the trouble with Latin plurals – you add an “s” and it looks wrong, you change it to the correct ending and it looks pretentious. I have to be careful of my tendency to pomposity now that I have a conservatory.

You could plant, or have a tree planted for you, in a field on the edge of town where it had room to grow free and contribute to the view and the environment. More trees would grow, nature would benefit, and neighbours would not complain.

Meanwhile, they sky is grey, the back garden is moving in a stiffish breeze and it feels like November.

Trees on a hill near Slaidbirn