Heritage

by Dr Avril Lumley Prior Water of Life

From Spring to Standpipe in Twentieth-century Peakirk

Peakirk church: Aaron extracts water with his rod

Shaduf: Tomb of Ipuy, Deir el Medina, Egypt Every living organism needs water to survive. The Old Testament is littered with references to it. We read of how Aaron quenched the thirsts of the Israelites escaping from slavery in Egypt by striking a rock with his rod. And there is the story of Rebekah at the well, who drew water not only for Eliezer, Abraham’s agent, but for his camels too, emphasising the importance of livestock in Biblical times. Today, when we have plentiful water on tap, the chore of tending bedding plants

during droughts pales into insignificance when compared with third-world children on their daily trudge to collect microbeinfested water for drinking and cooking.

The Mother of Invention

Of course, necessity is the mother of invention and some ancient civilisations developed highly efficient techniques for accessing and transporting water. Archaeology, tomb paintings and heiroglyphics reveal that in Egypt [‘The Gift of the Nile’], a shaduf comprising a wooden pole with a counterweight on one end and an animal-skin bucket on the other allowed water to be transferred between different levels. Vast, brick-lined reservoirs were constructed with channels connecting to the river. During the periods of inundation, the reservoirs were filled to the brim so that in the dry season, water could be lifted into the wheat and barley fields that lined the banks. Despite being back-breaking work, shadufs were highly effective, capable of raising up to 2,500 litres per day and are still used in Egypt and parts of China and India.

Back in c.212BC, Archimedes, an inventor from Syacuse [Sicily], famous for his bathtime discovery about the displacement of fluids, had another ‘Eureka moment’ when he invented a machine which resembled a giant corkscrew encased in a tube. Originally, it was intended to remove bilge from the holds of ships but its potential for elevating water from rivers to irregation ditches was soon realised and his name became immortalised in Archimedes’ Screw.

Meanwhile, the Persians, Egyptians and Indians were using aqueducts to transport huge quantities of clean drinking water to urban communities centuries before the birth of Christ, though it is the Romans who are credited with perfecting them. Their engineering feats carried water down gradients from lakes and springs, across valleys via pipes, ditches, canals, tunnels and bridges. Rome alone boasted eleven aqueducts, stretching

Pont du Gard Aqueduct, France

St Mary’s water conduit, Lincoln (1540) Reconstructing a well, Peakirk (1977)

from as far as 92km [57 miles] away, one of which supplies water for the Trevi Fountain. Other impressive examples survive in France, Spain, Greece, North Africa and Turkey, all the more remarkable since their maintenance ceased after the withdrawal of the legions, in 410AD.

Wells, Pumps and Pubs

In towns, water was accessed from conduits, fountains and pumps and collected from roofs in butts. And, of course, there were wells - not necessarily a shaft leading to the water table but a location where water welled up - some of which are echoed in our place names. We have Bath and Wells, in Somerset, both founded in pre-Roman times around springs reputed to have healing properties. Tunbridge Wells [Kent] and Llandridod Wells [Powys], like Bath, evolved into seventeenth- and eighteenth-century spa towns where the wealthy unwell and hydochondriacs ‘took the waters’ either by bathing in them or swigging them as a panacea or purgative. More locally, Yarwell and Sacrewell [Holy well], also denote proximity to a spring and I suspect that the latter was reputed to have had curative powers. In Tribland, there is the splendid ‘town well’ at Ufford, whilst another well once served the almshouses at Barnack. A square-sided Roman well lies beneath the garden of 8a St Pega’s Road, Peakirk, and a bell-shaped seventeenthcentury version has recently been uncovered in Rectory Lane. Water drawn from wells was usually pure enough for

human consumption unless they were situated next to a privy or crewyard. Indeed, most old house plots had at least one though the majority have been filled in for safety reasons. For those with no well, there was spring or (as a last resort) river or dyke water which may or may not have contained effluence and almost certainly hosted a wide range of bacteria and mini-beasts. (The old saying “frog in your throat” harks back to the 1830s, when some regions suffered a plague of frogs, which frequently hopped into household water vessels!) Therefore, stream water was generally confined to cooking and washing but seldom drunk

Novelty frog mug (1830s)

Water filter (1830s)

Inside a water filter untreated by the healthconscious. Instead, it was boiled or purified through charcoal in a water filter. Others simply preferred beer to Adam’s ale. Hence, the number of unlicensed beer houses that opened in front rooms throughout the land. Peakirk’s Black Bull [Ruddy Duck] was established in this way by the enterprising widow, Elizabeth Percival. By 1848, the Railway Inn up the road was slaking the thirsts of first navvies and then those of Great Northern Railway employees, whilst the Boat Inn on Thorney Road (trading by 1800) originally catered for agricultural workers but, with the advent of the motor car, attracted a more up-market clientele.

Indeed, at the turn of the nineteenth century, every village supported at least one public house. Bainton had its Blue Boar, now a private residence. At Barnack, the Carpenters’ Arms, Fox, Red Lion, Seven Stars and Millstone vied for trade, with only the latter surviving. Glinton boasted the Blue Bell, which still flourishes whereas the Six Bells and Crown were converted into a housing complex and nursery within living memory. Deeping Gate has lost its Cuckoo but kept the Black Bull, whilst Northborough has retained its Pack Horse but not the Red Lion. At Maxey, the White Horse, New Inn and Cherry Tree all have closed with just its Blue Bell left in business. Helpston was particularly wellendowed by yet another Blue Bell, the Exeter Arms, Parting Pot, Prince of Wales, Queen’s Head and Railway Hotel and Royal Oak, though all but the Blue Bell have gone. At Castor, locals had the choice of the Fitzwilliam Arms, Green Dragon, Royal Oak and Prince of Wales, and Ailsworth had its Wheatsheaf.

But who can blame folk for choosing alcoholic alternatives? Waterborne diseases like typhoid fever, cholera disentery and hepatitis together with dyptheria, scarlet fever and typhus, caused by overcrowded living conditions, poor hygiene and sanitation, were rife during the nineteenth century. Yet, until the 1850s, it was thought that germs were spread by foul smells rather than contagion and polluted drinking water. Then, in 1854, John Snow (1813-58), a physician, pathologist and acclaimed ‘father of epidemiology’ traced the source of a cholera outbreak in London to a parish pump in Broad Street, Soho. Further research revealed that it supplied the neighbourhood with untreated water drawn directly from the River Thames, which was little more than an open sewer into which human and industrial waste freely flowed. Snow’s findings were initially discredited. ‘The Great Stink’ of June to August 1858, which almost forced Pariament to adjourn and dramatically increased the death-rate, endorsed the miasma theory. Nevertheless, it resulted in civil engineer Joseph Bazalgette (1819-91) being commissioned to reform the capital’s sewage system by constructing enclosed, interconnecting, bricklined sewers, pumping stations, treatment works and outfalls

Boat Inn, Peakirk

Parish bore Standpipe, St Pega’s Rd

beyond the city’s boundaries. Consequently, deaths from cholera and typhoid plummeted.

Parish Bores and Standpipes

Towards the end of the nineteeth century, rural district councils were being pressurised into bringing piped water to their villages. However, we learn from local newspaper accounts and Rural District and Parish Council Minutes that such projects were not always greeted with enthusiasm. Canon Edward James, Rector of Peakirk (1865-1912), supported the scheme but, understandably, forbade any pipes being laid through his churchyard. Farmer John Giles dismissed the idea as a ‘hobby’ or vanity project and declared the installation of a water supply a gross waste of tax-payers’ money because ‘there was perfectly good water to be extracted from wells, springs and dykes’. After much debate, drilling for water from aquifers [waterretaining rocks] began in Helpston in 1896, Glinton in 1898 and Peakirk in 1901. To finance the project, Peterborough District Council took out a loan, to be repaid over 30 years through an increase in the rates. Individual homes could be connected upon payment of a fee, although only two Peakirk households initially signed up. The Peakirk bore was operational by September 1903 and capable of producing 60 gallons of water per hour. In addition, there were four castiron standpipes (with water on tap rather than being pumped from the ground), at the Thorney Road junction, in Chestnut Close, Rectory Lane and outside Ellesmere House on St Pega’s Road. The latter was to serve the village fire engine housed on the property but has since been resited outside No 32a. Shortly afterwards, a fifth standpipe was placed adjacent to No 2 Thorney Road.

Taking the Waters

Water could be transported in carts from the bore to homes, farms and businesses but just villagetribune 47

Replica of Glinton bore

Thorney Rd standpipe complete with handle Bore, Canon James’ monument & horse trough by those living within the parish boundaries. The standpipes were for domestic use only with collection in buckets, kettles and jugs. Non-parishioners had to pay an annual fee, which was difficult to extract and nigh impossible to police. As soon as the bore was installed on the green near Glinton church, there were complaints that ‘non-paying’ Peakirk villagers were poaching the supply. After 1903, it was Peakirk’s turn to be outraged when Newborough residents arrived ‘with tanks, barrels and casks’ to steal their water. To add insult to injury, by the 1930s, motorists were driving from far and wide to wash their cars at the ratepayers’ expense. Furthermore, the bores and standpipes brought anti-social behaviour in the shape of rowdy youths, litter louts and loud-mouthed gossips, the very antithesis of Rebekah at the well! Such was the nuisance that farmer Benjamin Bodger, who lived next to the Thorney Road junction, requested that the standpipe adjacent to his property be removed. His pleas were dismissed on the grounds that it may be needed in case of fire. The bores at both Peakirk and Glinton were regularly damaged by careless carters and by thirsty steam traction engines which, from the 1870s onwards, began to replace horses in agriculture and haulage. Moreover, some parishioners refused to drink the bore water, declaring that the lead pipes ruined its taste, and returned to their old sources. Before long, it was discovered that the water lost its bitterness if the taps were allowed to run continuously ‘at full bore’ by jamming the handle in an upwards position with a pile of stones. A sanitary inspector was detailed by the District Council’s Water Committee to put an end to this wasteful practice. He duly removed the stones and returned half-anhour later to find that they had been replaced and water was gushing into the overflow sink. He repeated the operation, withdrew to the shadows and waited to see what happened. Immediately, women emerged from the nearby cottages to put the stones back again. He was fighting a losing battle! Conversely, when most Peakirk homes were connected to the mains, in 1938, not everyone embraced the amenity.

Many continued to use the standpipes and bore because their water was perceived to be softer for washing hair and clothes and “made a better cup of tea”. The supply was finally disconnected c.1967. The bore and three of the standpipes remain, two on Thorney Road and the third outside 32a St Pega’s Road. The Rectory Lane pipe was removed in 1979. Plans were afoot to repaint and restore it as part of Peakirk’s heritage. Unfortunately, before it was collected, it was stolen and, undoubtedly, was sold for scrap.

Queen Victoria’s horse trough and drinking fountain

After the death of Queen Victoria (1837-1901), Peakirk villagers aspired to commemorate her long reign by commissioning a drinking fountain and horse trough fed by water from the bore. Unfortunately, only £13 was collected, hardly enough to pay for a basic red-brick monument. The Parish Council deemed that such a monstrosity would be inappropriate for the village and that it would be better to wait until sufficient funds could be raised ‘to carry out a design that is both in good taste and good material’. So, the plans were put on hold. Realising that his parishioners were disappointed, Rector James promised to erect, at his own expense, a monument resembling Helpston’s Butter Cross next to the parish bore to celebrate his long reign. His public spiritedness was obviously infectious for the enthusiasm for the memorial fountain was rekindled and a down payment made. The 24 April 1906 edition of the Peterborough and Huntingdon Standard states that a fountain was constructed with the water, ‘instead of coming out of an ordinary pipe, issues from a lion’s mouth into a nice trough below’.

Soon afterwards, the Standard reports an act of vandalism by an eighteen-year-old youth, who struck the lion with a brick, knocking out two of its teeth. Fortunately, the intervention of the youth’s companion prevented any further damage and the offender was ordered to pay 30 shillings [£1.50] for repairs or face a court appearance. To make matters worse, the balance for the memorial was still owing, necessitating a fund-raising jumble sale at the Hermitage [then the Parish Hall]. Village stalwarts, the Misses Dorothea and Louisa Morris, Hester and Agnes Vergette, Beatrice and Mary Legate, Alice and Louise Neaverson and Alice Strange and her mother, Martha, manned the stalls, taking £12 which was enough to pay off the debt, purchase a drinking cup and have £2 left ‘for future use’.

Old photographs indicate that the trough has been repositioned, when the road was widened, in 1938. The overflow sink testifies to its continued use, possibly, until the supply to the bore was disconnected. Now redeployed as a planter, the cup and chain (as well as the lion’s teeth) are missing but there are two holes, one where the chain was attached and the other for the cup hook.

“You never miss the water . . .”

There is no new water in the world. It is all recycled. Basically, we are sipping the same water as the dinosaurs. Fortunately, it is scrupulously treated before it reaches us, unlike the Soho residents who unwittingly drank raw sewerage from Old Father Thames.

Nowadays, we take our water for granted – bathing, washing clothes and cars, watering the garden, putting off fixing a dripping tap or leaving it running. I recall a holiday in Egypt, in 1989. After sailing down the Nile, seeing shadufs in action and ancient reservoirs, we stayed at Hurghada, where the water supply was limited to a few hours a day. It was amazing how quickly we adapted, using bath water to wash ‘smalls’ and flush the loo. We all vowed to continue our efforts when we returned to Blighty. Needless to say, for me, the novelty soon wore off.

I also remember the prolonged drought of 1976, the threat of rationing and (Heaven forbid!) the return of the standpipes. With climate change, we cannot rule this out. As my Grandma used to say, “You never miss the water till the well runs dry”.

St Pega’s church, Peakirk

Stepping Back in Time with St Pega’s Packages

The day dawned damp and drear for Peakirk’s first St Pega’s Package of 2022. Fortunately, by the time members of Peterborough U3A’s Archaeology Group began to arrive at 10am, the sun was shining and the church looked beautiful. The table in the chancel was laden with splendid fare and our guests began tucking in.

by Avril Lumley Prior Next, came talks by Trish Roberts and I on the history of the church, its architecture, wall paintings and curiosities, such as the enigmatic ‘heart-stone’ and the likelihood of an anchorite’s cell behind the Lady Chapel. Afterwards, we toured the churchyard, taking in the curious daisywheel (an ancient symbol to ward off evil), the supposed ‘peep-hole’ from a medieval shrine, the diverse tombstones and the glorious display of snowdrops and aconites. Finally, we strolled back through time round the heart of the village. We began in Rectory Lane, roughly the route along which Neolithic farmers

14th-century wall paintings

Tombs Peakirk ‘heart-stone

Peakirk Hermitage chapel (rebuilt 1880)

'Daisy-wheel'

Fragment of shrine

drove their cattle to summer grazing on North Fen. We traced the course of Car Dyke across the green, viewed the reputed site of St Pega’s eighth-century hermitage and examined items of Edwardian street furniture, including the parish bore and standpipes (1903), Reverend Canon Edward James’ monument (1904), Queen Victoria’s horse trough and drinking fountain (1906) and the recently-restored village sign. Indeed, there is plenty to catch your eye in Peakirk.

St Pega’s Packages (talks, walks and scrumptious home-baked teas) run throughout the year and are available mornings, afternoons and summer evenings. Each one is tailor-made to suit your group’s individual needs with plenty of time to explore our lovely church independently afterwards. And all proceeds go towards preserving St Pega’s for future generations to enjoy. To book - or even just discuss a booking – please, contact one of our Church Wardens (details at back of Trib.) or message me via Facebook. Aconites and snowdrops villagetribune 51