The Northumbrian - Issue No. 176 - June / July 2020 by Offstone Publishing

Issue No. 176

June / July 2020

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Welcome I

’ll be honest; I wasn’t really expecting this. When I wrote this introduction in the last edition of The Northumbrian, almost two months ago now, lockdown was brand new. The word itself felt impossibly unfamiliar, while the mere idea of some people not going out for three months while the rest of us stayed within sight of home was still, well... so unlikely it seemed unbelievable. Now, it’s our way of life. The elderly and vulnerable don’t go past the garden gate, while everyone else gets the heebie-geebies over the weekly trip to Tesco, where we dance apologetically around one another and those 2 metre lines taped on the floor. Even the most technophobic among us are now Zoom-literate; indeed, this online video conferencing platform, which most people hadn’t heard of before this crisis, is now the majority’s main means of connecting. Thanks to Zoom, families and friends get together for quizzes on Saturday nights, grandparents connect with their grandchildren on Sunday afternoons, and church congregations are now so used to worshipping in front of an iPad screen, some of them are tempted to suggest they keep doing it this way. It’s not the same; of course it isn’t. Grandparents yearn to cuddle their grandchildren, worshippers dream of settling down in their regular pew and staying there all afternoon, some of us seriously miss the pub at the end of a long country walk. It looks like we’re in for a long haul, so thank heavens for our wonderful contributors to The Northumbrian who, not ones to be thwarted by a little thing like lockdown, have been more prolific than ever in the last few weeks, taking to telephone and archive to bring us essential reading just when daytime telly is wearing thin. So, here it is, a lockdown journey around our fascinating region, and no need to leave your living room. Stay safe, dear reader. We look forward to seeing you on the other side... Jane Pikett, Editor

Some of our contributors JOHN GRUNDY John takes a lockdowninduced mind’s eye trip to Thockrington and its fascinating graves. Page 10 JANET HARDIE Janet, granddaughter of Wallington’s Sir Charles Trevelyan, on her mother’s jigsaws, homemade at Wallington. Page 26 KATE STANLEY Members of a remarkable farming family reveal how they are adjusting to unprecedented times. Page 48 ANTHONY TOOLE Anthony recalls a prelockdown walk exploring Northumbrian Bronze Age settlements. Page 34 DIANA WHALEY The gallant Victorian Ordnance Surveyors and the people preserving their work today. Page 14 SUSIE WHITE Remembering the magical walled garden at Queen Elizabeth High School, Hexham. Page 6

Consulting Editor Stewart Bonney Editor Jane Pikett

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The Northumbrian

Issue No. 176 June/July 2020

F I N E W R I T I N G • G R E AT P H O T O G R A P H Y • Q UA L I T Y R E A D I N G

The region’s best-selling countryside magazine FEATURES

Susie White

34 48

Treasured memories of a school grounds’ secret garden

A mind’s eye view of Thockrington

Diana Whaley The story of the Victorian Ordnance Surveyors and today’s efforts to preserve their work

10 6 22

Anthony Toole A walk in Bronze Age footsteps

18 18

Mike Pratt Lockdown tales of lapwings and other creatures

John Grundy

42 44 20

Bill Maxwell A trail of the unexpected

Location of key features by page numbers

Kate Stanley Lockdown life on the farm

Steve Newman

44 50

The curious spots most people simply pass by

Stewart Bonney The building of the Newcastle and Carlisle Railway, and the drawings which chronicled its course

Janet Hardie The homemade jigsaws my mother left behind

Ian Kerr Celebrating summer’s butterflies

REGULARS

A tribute Remembering the acclaimed wildlife photographer Allan Potts The Northumbrian

NEWS �� 52

BOOK REVIEWS �� 54 FEEDBACK �� 56

The secret garden SUSIE WHITE remembers The Hydro walled garden at Queen Elizabeth High School, Hexham, now demolished to make way for new school buildings

Vegetables and flowers in happy profusion

ardens are ephemeral; it’s in their very nature. It’s an awareness of that balance between control and chaos that makes us appreciate what it takes to make and maintain them. A garden can be lost through just one summer of not weeding or through a change of ownership. After 23 lovingly tended years, my time at Chesters Walled Garden was up when its lease expired. It was therefore particularly poignant to me to be asked to make a photographic record of a garden that was due to be demolished - the beautiful and inspiring walled garden at Queen Elizabeth

High School in Hexham. I’d visited the garden over many years and written about it in Amateur Gardening and in The Northumbrian a decade ago. Even though I knew it well, entering was always a surprise; a Secret Garden moment, moving from a functional tarmac yard, through a door in the high brick wall and out into colour, light and birdsong. Others entered through that door and found calm, peace and solace; schoolchildren, community groups and visitors through the National Gardens Scheme. Many are devastated at its loss so I want to celebrate a garden that still has a special place in peoples’ hearts.

I went to the walled garden last July, parking as usual in the heat-filled yard. There was that familiar feeling of astonishment as I stepped through the cool doorway. To right and left, southfacing greenhouses; ahead a little path leading away between box hedges, apple trees and flowers. From the entrance, the network of small paths drew me on, with multiple decisions about which way to turn, with discoveries to be made. This was never a garden that you could see all at once, but a series of tiny spaces, each hidden by trees, shrubs, hedges and tall plants that made it intimate and comforting.

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Day lilies and euphorbia surround an old roller

Emma Thompson weeding between box hedges Shirley poppies and ox-eye daisies spill over a raised vegetable bed

A place where you could find your own private moment The Victorian walled garden was built in 1864 and its free draining loam would have been well worked for over a century. By 1997, it was abandoned, overgrown and forgotten. It was lucky for the garden, then, that Emma Thompson, bored with studying for her A-levels, opened the door and discovered its hidden world. It was winter and amongst the jungle of thistles and brambles she could make out broken tables and chairs and old blackboards.

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Stately delphiniums in rich blues The once productive greenhouse had collapsed inwards and Emma, who had had no idea that the garden was there, found it mysterious and atmospheric. Emma comes from a gardening background, her father having studied at Edinburgh Botanic Garden and worked at Robsonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s nurseries in Hexham. Emma would accompany her dad when he went out to work right from when she was in a pushchair, and later working with him at

weekends and in the holidays. She learnt the basics from him of weeding, pruning, clearing and plant identification. This grounding, and the way she enjoyed a challenge, helped her to begin to create something - for the first time by herself - at the school. She started work on a small patch in the middle of all the overgrown debris where there was a gnarled old tree stump that she liked. She grew ivy over it and placed fossils around it, and from there she worked outwards, gradually clearing and planting. With no initial design, a series of beds and paths developed organically. The school gave Emma free rein in the garden. She trained in youth work and qualified as a teacher so she could put horticulture on the curriculum, teaching the Certificate in Horticulture, NVQs and GCSE Landbased environmental science. This meant that she could help and teach pupils who were, as she had, having difficulties with classroom work. She encouraged each to establish their own space within it, a place that had their mark so that they felt a sense of ownership and care. This

Candelabra primulas and monkey flowers by one of the tranquil ponds

A brick circle around osteospermum and nicotiana led to an abundance of delightful details: an old wheelbarrow planted with hostas, a brick circle around osteospermum and nicotiana, glass pebbles set into a path, a miniature pond surrounded by broken slates. With so many individual elements, it would have been easy for the garden to be a mishmash of design ideas. It is down to Emma’s skill that she wove it all into a cohesive whole with each space flowing naturally into the next. A happy combination of short views down gravel paths, of willow tunnels and dens, of overflowing borders, herb beds, fruit trees and several small ponds. Being managed organically and full of quiet places to feed or nest, wildlife became abundant. The garden became officially known as Hexham Community Garden Project and was used to teach High School pupils, adults with learning difficulties, children from Priory School and various youth groups. With a written constitution, Emma could approach charitable trusts and obtain useful sources of funding. The garden was a starting point for outdoor learning in vegetable growing, ecology, numeracy and literacy, communication skills and benefits to mental and physical wellbeing. It was a place where you could find your own private moment, or work with others and be part of a group. On that day last July, I walked around the garden with my camera, listening to

the birdsong. A great tit called from a willow hideaway, jackdaws yakked on the roof of the Hydro building, pigeons crooned in the tall trees around the High School. I tried not to feel sad that this garden would be lost, but to richly enjoy what was there and what it had given to so many. I could hear the scritch-scratch of Emma’s hand fork as she weeded a path on the other side of the garden. A blackbird flew across my path as I ducked beneath cascades of wisteria at the start of a long pergola.

Glass pebbles set into pathways Hardy geraniums spilled across the gravel, waist-high domes of box and golden lonicera contrasted with fastigiate yews, ladies mantle frothed lime-green and phormium flowers soared above their arching leaves. I would suddenly come upon a wildlife pond fringed by yellow flags and variegated butterbur, frogs barely visible below its green spangled surface. Pale lupins stood tall by an elevated willow treehouse, sunlight shone through the huge leaves of ornamental rhubarb revealing their

An outsize cup and saucer planted with petunias on a table

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The Northumbrian

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Of graves concern JOHN GRUNDY might be at home in lockdown, but his mental map can take him anywhere in Northumberland, as it does here, when he re-visits tiny Thockrington

ou would think, sitting here in my little house in mid-April 2020 in the midst of the Coronavirus lockdown, that I would be a bit sick of isolation, filled instead with longing to be out enjoying the bright lights. And it is true, I am missing the flesh-pots of Newcastle (or John Lewis café, as we call it) but I also find myself dreaming of the freedom to roam alone beneath the wild skies of Northumberland. This month – and last month, and probably even next month when you are finally reading these words – the freedom to do that has been taken away, except in the mind’s eye, which can, of course, go wherever it wants. As far as Northumberland is concerned, my mind’s eye is pretty flexible. I could take a map of the county,

pin it on the wall, close my eyes, throw a random dart at it with my weaker arm, and I would still almost inevitably hit somewhere I would like to go because I love virtually all of it. Everywhere is replete with interest, but where I have chosen to drift today is a stretch of countryside found on both sides of the A68, a few miles north of the Military Road. On the west side of the road it stretches across wildish moorland and rough pasture towards Birtley and The North Tyne; on the east the country is even more wildish as it rolls over moors and ridges with glorious distant views past beautiful wetlands and seemingly forgotten reservoirs, farms and houses which are isolated, not because of some modern pestilence, but because hardly anybody lives there.

That might not be strictly true. The wild emptiness of Northumberland (fifth largest county in England, remember, but least densely populated) is the result of many things. Landscape and weather have conspired over the centuries to keep it relatively empty, but pestilence has also played its part. For three or four hundred years the pestilence of war stalked this land and left it emptier and poorer than it had ever been before the Border Wars started; but real pestilence, plague and medical catastrophe has probably played its part as well. Which brings me to the church at Thockrington. In the heart of the area my mind’s eye is focusing on today, possibly even at the highest point of it, is the church of St. Aidan at Thockrington. There is a single farmstead at the foot of the

The east end and a 12th century Norman window

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View from the west outcrop just below it, but apart from that it stands alone, in splendid isolation on a rocky crag, a ridge which is part of the Great Whin Sill. There are vast views to the north and west. The church itself is an intensely Northumbrian building and its churchyard is extraordinary. I’ll come back to both of those points in a moment, but first of all I need to address its isolation. Churches can be isolated for a number of reasons. Some were built isolated on even more ancient holy sites. Some are pilgrimage churches marking stopping places or holy wells on ancient routes, or places where ancient saints stopped to preach and convert the locals. All such places exist, but more often, rather than being built isolated, to mis-quote Shakespeare, they have had isolation

thrust upon them. They’ve got left behind when the communities they served disappeared, and that’s what seems to have happened to Thockrington. There used to be a village here. In 1296, the year that the Border Wars began, it had 18 taxpayers. In 1666, shortly after the wars came to an end, there were still 11. Now there are none apart from the neighbouring farm. It’s not clear why it disappeared. In many vanished villages, the end came because of the almost remorseless pressures of poverty and rural life, of gradual migration to the towns that forced people in the past to abandon the lands of their birth. But about Thockrington they tell a different story – a curiously relevant story given the time in which we are now living – which is

The landscape to the south of the church

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that the end of the village finally came in 1847, when a sailor returning from the sea brought cholera with him and the village had to be destroyed. It isn’t certain that this is a true story. 1847 isn’t recorded as one of the major cholera years of the 19th Century and similar stories are told about other abandoned villages in Northumberland and elsewhere in the country, but it could easily be true. Disease was endemic in the past and if for some reason there was no plague affecting you at that moment, it probably meant that it had just passed or was lurking in the wings, waiting for its moment to strike. North Shields and Tynemouth were almost depopulated by bubonic plague in 1635 and the

Norman arches inside the church

The edge of Colt Crag Reservoir a mile south of Thockrington following year, in 1636, literally half of the population of Newcastle died. There were 10,000 people living in the town and over the spring and summer of that year more than 5,000 of them died. By the 19th Century, the offending disease had changed from bubonic plague to cholera, and for decade after decade great waves of it swept the country. Though it struck most virulently in the overcrowded cities, it wasn’t fussy and many in rural areas suffered in the same way. So, the 1847 story about the death of Thockrington could easily be true. If you rummage around in the bracken to the north of the church, you will find the footings of abandoned buildings, so it is sure that something finished the village off in the middle of the 19th Century, and

sickness could well have been the final straw for a fading village. What the sickness left behind was a church and a churchyard. Both are remarkable. The church, as I said, is intensely Northumbrian. It is small but massively built, with a huge buttress at the west end supporting a rough and muscular bellcote and preventing the church sliding down the hill. There are three tiny, roundheaded windows which probably date from the 1100s, and the beautifully simple whitewashed interior has more Norman work in two plain but lovely arches framing the east end. The churchyard contains something even older – the base of an Anglo-Saxon cross with the lower couple of feet of

its shaft. It suggests the existence of an earlier holy site and it is quite easy to imagine an ancient saint like Aidan preaching to the locals beneath the vast skies on this bare but beautiful hillside. Around the cross base are the usual things found in country churchyards – the occasional substantial monument to the wealthier local families and lots of small, plain and humble graves. One is even humbler than most. It has only two letters carved on it. It is marked CL and refers to a lady called Constance Leathart who I met once, almost 40 years ago when I went to her farm as part of my listed building work. I knew nothing about her at the time, but I liked her and the rescue donkeys she was intensely proud of. I know now that she had lived

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grave marker, her friends gave her one of the simplest and most dignified stones you will ever see. And proving beyond any doubt that great worth does not require great monuments, is another pair of small, very ordinary and simple gravestones in the north-east corner of the graveyard. They are the graves of Lord and Lady Beveridge, whose importance seems unbearably great at this moment, when we depend so totally on the NHS and Social Services. These organisations would never have existed if he had not published the Beveridge Report in 1942; a report which for the first time recommended universal social

insurance and health care and which has transformed the life of this country everÂ since. Lord and Lady Beveridge lived in Northumberland for a number of years after the war, at a lovely house called Tughall Grange which you drive past on the road between Low Newton and Beadnell on the coast. They are buried here because their daughter married and lived at Carrycoats Hall, an old house in a beautiful garden a couple of miles north west of the church. Their gravestones have an uninterrupted view across hills and moors towards it and, even if they donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know it, it is a wonderful place to lie, a place of peace in a troubledÂ world.

Anglo Saxon cross base an extraordinary life. Before she retired to her farm she had been one of the earliest female fliers, a friend of the great Amy Johnson and one of the very few women to fly Spitfires and Lancaster bombers in the Second World War. The BBC made a film about her life a few years ago and though she wanted to be buried with no

The Northumbrian

The Beveridge gravestones

Northumberland through the eyes of the gallant Ordnance Surveyors, c. 1860 DIANA WHALEY explores the Ordnance Survey Name Books for Northumberland, which record the pioneering fieldwork that lies behind our modern maps and throw fascinating light on place names, landscape and life in the mid-19th Century

19th Century Ordnance Surveyors

f you were out and about in Northumberland in the years 1857 to 1864, you might have spied parties of navy-clad figures manhandling equipment across peat hags, peering at theodolites on windy hill-tops or ducking in and out of vicarages, farms, pubs or ‘manufactories’. They would pause to measure distances in chains; inspect landscapes

natural and built; scratch their heads over bumps in the ground (Roman road? camp? Druidical remains?) and, notebook in hand, badger locals with questions about names and antiquities, ownership, land use and local lore. These were the gallant men of the Ordnance Survey, taking part in an extraordinary nationwide project whose

end product was the beautifully engraved First Edition maps at the scale of Six Inches to One Mile — fascinating in themselves, and the basis for the maps we use today. The footprint of some places (such as Low Newton-by-the-Sea or Newton Seahouses) has changed little, while others of course are dramatically transformed (such as the ‘extremely rural ... village of Benwell’).

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Newton Seahouses, now Low Newton by-the-Sea, a ‘very small hamlet’

A full cartographic survey was first undertaken in Ireland in the 1820s to 1840s, and by the late 1850s English counties including Northumberland were being surveyed and described. The surveyors recorded their fieldwork in so-

called Name Books, and we are lucky that Northumberland’s have survived. A total of 103 are in the National Archives, Kew, with one ‘lost in transit’, and the Berwick book is in Edinburgh. Only four other English counties (and most of Scotland)

have surviving Name Books. We’re also fortunate that a project involving volunteers from all parts of the county and beyond have been transcribing the documents to make them accessible online to the world.

The Ordnance Survey Name Books at home in The National Archives

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The surveyors (usually in this context called ‘examiners’) were mainly Sappers of the Royal Engineers, or professional ‘Civil Assistants’. Among the 40 or so men who sign off pages in the Northumberland Name Books, relatively many have Irishsounding surnames such as Gillespie or McMahon, and some have known Irish origins. For each Name Book, an officer, usually a Lieutenant in this late twenties, was in overall charge, and three covered most of the county between them. Parties of men would gather information within a parish, writing it up in the Name Books. A superior in the survey office would then check the material against written sources such as early histories, directories and maps and make decisions about the correct forms of names to appear on the map, and indeed whether they should appear at all. Among many names that are deleted are Herring House (‘only descriptive’) and Snape Wood (‘not a name’), while Dean Cleugh in Haltwhistle parish was ‘cancelled as foolish Dean and Cleugh being synonyms’ (they denote rather different types of valley, Dean being a variant of Dene). For each name, at least three ‘Authorities’ were required to vouch for the name’s spelling. Ordnance Survey policy favoured the educated and wealthy — owners of property, estate managers, clergymen, postmasters, schoolmasters etc. — over small farmers and cottagers. In Embleton parish, two places are mapped as Rock West Farm and Heiferlaw Plantation, since their owner, Rev’d Mr Bosanquet, ‘would not have’ the names

Liverpool Hole, one of a few names explained from shipwrecks

that were better known: the homely sounding Ellsnook Plantation and the quirky Gull Hall (which may be an ironic ‘Hall’ name akin to Owlet Hall, Crow Hall and perhaps Sod Hall). We also see the surveyors’ awareness of social status in their descriptions of buildings. Twizell House, Warenford (sadly since demolished) boasts not only a ‘tastefully laid out lawn’ in front but also a ‘beautiful Museum’, while by contrast Philadelphia in Tynemouth parish is ‘A large tenement (in bad repair) affording shelter to a great number of tinkers besom makers &c. whose persons present externally anything but a prepossessing appearance’. Meanwhile, in practice the likes of tenant farmers, shepherds (such as James Rogerson, living in what is now the ruined cottage at Blawearie), publicans and fishermen are invaluable as authorities. Women are, predictably, underrepresented in the books, though they do appear as property owners, publicans or schoolmistresses, and are sometimes cited as ‘Authorities’ for names. Two of the main informants on Farne are the lighthouse-keepers William Darling Senior and Junior. William Senior is now 80, and the surveyors cannot resist telling the story of his heroic rescue, with his daughter Grace, of shipwrecked souls from the Forfarshire in 1838. Other shipwrecks are mentioned in the Name Books, including one that gave Liverpool Hole its name. A wonderful treasury, or gazetteer, of thousands of Northumberland place names resulted from all this effort. Some are quite

bizarre — Bogie Chique, Shinny Gripe Lug, Wooley Wash, Kitten Tom, Honey Mug and Pissingdown Sike among them. The great majority are more conventional, with repeating final elements, but these are very useful if, for instance, we are curious about the use of stream-terms such as burn, letch and sike, or about urban names in row such as Keelman’s Row and Smashers Row (referring to pitmen), or about the spread of words with Scandinavian roots such as fell, gill or holm. In recording place names, it was not the surveyors’ job to explain their origins and meanings, but they quite often try. Many of their explanations are difficult to prove or disprove (Fairy Knowes near Bamburgh ‘were a great haunt of the Fairies, in the Fairy Ages’), but some at least are true. The surveyors are spot on in guessing that Glororum (Stannington parish, but also Bamburgh) originates in the phrase ‘glower over them/him’, and not, as a local farmer claimed, in ‘Gloria Romanorum’; and they often cite dialect dictionaries to explain names. The Grey Yade of Coppath contains yade or yoad, an old mare, while Rumbling Kern, a rocky bowl of thrashing waves on the coast near Howick, is ‘the local way of saying “Very noisy Churn” and Roughton Linn (now Routin Lynn) near Ford is a ‘noisy waterfall’. Many names are explained by everyday life or incidents involving local people. An old fisherwoman collected cockles at Madge’s Batts, MacCartney’s Cave (celebrated in The Northumbrian 167) was, we are told, carved out by a chaplain at Callaly Castle, while Henson’s Island in the River Coquet is one of several names said to commemorate a drowning or other tragic death. The surveyors wisely don’t often attempt to explain the names of more major places, which tend to be older and more opaque, the province of specialists, though they do note that Berwick is nothing to do with bears. Each page of the Name Books has five printed columns, the last and most revealing being ‘Descriptive Remarks’, which describe landscape features or buildings, and often indicate who owns and occupies buildings. These can be quite repetitive — there are umpteen ‘low eminences’, ‘neat farmhouses’ and ‘ordinary public houses’ — and much of the information could be found elsewhere. But every parish has its individual gems, and taken overall, the comprehensiveness and immediacy of the Name Books make them a wonderful resource, with plenty to offer anyone interested in the past and its present-day legacy. What we see is quite a busy landscape,

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with many small coal-pits in both town and country; wagonways and leadmines still active; harbours crowded with vessels large and small, overlooked by huddles of pubs and beer houses; village schools catering for 50 or 60 children; and churches and chapels seating 300-400. There are some charming details that go far beyond the needs of mapping. At Longhorsley post office (also a grocer’s shop) letters arrive at 9.15am and are despatched at 3.55pm, and at the Duchess’s School, Alnwick, 50 girls are taught ‘reading, writing, arithmetic, sewing, knitting and marking, free. They are all dressed in green frocks,

Macartney’s Cave, Thrunton Woods — the work of a chaplain named Macartney

The Grey Yade of Coppath, visited by one of the volunteer transcribers

Roughton Linn (now Routin Lynn), the noisy waterfall

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The Name Book entry for Benwell, an ‘extremely rural and pleasant village’ in the late 1850s straw bonnets, & white Tippets’. This is a time of great change, when mines are being both closed and opened; some roads in Tynemouth and elsewhere have been macadamised; and the railway network is expanding, though Wall Station is rather rudimentary: ‘A small wooden building it contains sufficient room for the St[ation] Master and his paraphernella the passengers receive their tickets outside’. (Actually, the opening phrase was ‘A despicable looking ...’ but this has been crossed out.) Since the Enclosures of the previous few decades, much pasture land has been turned over to arable, and many rural dwellings have fallen into disuse. We catch glimpses of leisure pursuits old and new. Several iron-rich springs are used as spas, and Bamburgh and Tynemouth are popular for sea bathing. Prior’s Haven, Tynemouth, is equipped with bathing machines, and nearby the ‘healthful game of Cricket’ is played on a ground sponsored by the Duke of

Northumberland. There are even a few insights into natural history. North and South Wamses on Farne are described as ‘the chief breeding place of the Cormorant, and when approaching from leeward, a disagreeable smell is perceived at some distance, arising from the filthy nests’. Threats to the curlew or whaup’s fragile habitat were already being noted (and for me chimed with Ian Kerr’s fascinating article in The Northumbrian 169): Whaup Moor, Kirknewton is so called ‘from the bird of the same name usually frequenting the ground — it is now partly arable and enclosed’. Measuring and mapping every acre of land and ascertaining the names to be engraved on the maps was a demanding enough job, but the Ordnance surveyors were also in effect tasked with a comprehensive archaeological survey of the county. They had to consider what was man-made and what was natural, map the relief of sites and trace the line of Roman

‘Druidical remains’ at Yeavering Bell

Roads such as the Devil’s Causeway and Dere Street (then known as Watling Street). They had some earlier maps and surveys to guide them, such as the work of Henry MacLauchlan, but often they had to make their own guesses from humps and bumps in the ground and from what local informants told them. One of the team surveying Newburn parish records that, ‘Mr Dodd, who farmed this ground for more than 60 years, informed me that he got upwards of a 100 Cart Loads of stones between the House called Thorntree Ho., and the Embankment on trace 2’. If the surveyor was horrified, he doesn’t say so. The surveyors also had to label sites by category. Their ‘Camps’ are often ‘Settlements’ on modern maps and the famous ‘Druidical Remains’ on Yeavering Bell are now more soberly ‘Fort’. The gentlemen of the Ordnance Survey made a magnificent job of a vast, multi-disciplinary task, but they were only human. They made mistakes with compass directions, place-names and historical observations, their punctuation and spelling was often shaky, as you will have noticed from the extracts here, and according to one report, their behaviour in the field could also be dubious. Recording a visit to Allendale around 1859, author Mr W White found himself refused accommodation because he had been mistaken for a member of the Ordnance Survey, who, at least thereabouts, ‘have won a reputation for gallantry as well as trigonometry’, and sad to relate this is gallantry such that ‘here and there an increase of population takes place in a way not recognised as lawful by the RegistrarGeneral’. Whether this shady reputation was justified or not we cannot know — hopefully not. But it would be a pity to dwell on such rumours, and what is sure is that we owe the surveyors an enormous debt of gratitude for their pioneering work in recording the names, landscape,

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A contemporary cartoon alluding to the rumours of surveyors becoming friendly with the locals antiquities and social history of our county, both on the maps and in the Name Books. There are some contemporary heroes of the Name Books who are also to be thanked. The original documents are housed in The National Archives, Kew (catalogued as OS 34), but since the launch of a project in 2016 they have all been photographed, and some forty splendid (or gallant, in the good sense) volunteers have transcribed all the Name Books. The images and transcriptions will shortly be available on the project’s website, and the date of the website launch (delayed by Coronavirus) will be announced in The Northumbrian.

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Some of the valiant transcribers ‘walking the Name Books’ at Short Sands, Tynemouth

Diana Whaley heads the project Northumberland Name Books, People and Places c.1860. She is Emeritus Professor of Early Medieval Studies at Newcastle University and has a dictionary of Northumberland place names in preparation. Thanks go to the project members, and especially (for details about the surveyors) Byrnice Reeds and Phil Thirkell; to Explore Lifelong Learning (Newcastle); and to Jim and Mary Ann Wilkes for funding (via the English Place Name Society) for the forthcoming website. Photographs: Extracts from Ordnance Survey Name books are reproduced with the permission of The National Archives, and Ordnance Survey maps with the permission of the National Library of Scotland; pictures of surveyors are from www. MilitarySurvey.org.uk. The photo Grey Yade of Coppath is thanks to Christopher Walton; all other photos of landscapes and Name Book extracts are by Ian and Diana Whaley

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Walk on by... Not one to be scuppered by a little thing called lockdown STEVE NEWMAN, finding himself stuck at home, searches his archive to come up with this series of pecularities in Northumberland which most people simply walk by

Wylam This mounting block and wallmounted hay feed basket are outside The Black Bull in Wylam. The Black Bull was built in 1860 at the height of Wylamâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s fame as an industrial centre with collieries and Ironworks in full production. It must have been a risky business using it after a few pints!

Alnwick Rothbury History is never far away in Rothbury, and this small doorway is all that remains of the site of the 17th Century Three Half Moons Inn, where the Earl of Derwentwater stayed whilst drumming up support for the Jacobite cause on October 6, 1715, prior to marching with his followers to heavy defeat in battle at Preston.

Remnants of Alnwick Abbey, Hulne Priory and the Castle and earlier buildings can be clearly seen in some of the townâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s narrow medieval lanes leading southwards from the cobbles in Bondgate. One of the pubs has an upside down de Vesci Cross (de Vesci was the family name of the Norman owners of the castle) on its frontage, which is thought to have come from the castle.

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Corbridge This pavement in Corbridge is the site of the medieval communal oven for villagers, who brought their bread and meat to be cooked here. The oven is first recorded in 1310 as The Kings Oven, possibly because at that time Corbridge was a Royal Borough. It is known to have been in continuous use until the mid-19th Century.

Belford The non-descript building in the southwest corner of Belford Churchyard is in fact a late 18th Century mortuary. Close examination reveals that it has a metal grille set into the window. It is thought that this was installed to stop the â&#x20AC;&#x153;Resurrectionistsâ&#x20AC;? or body snatchers stealing the bodies inside and selling them to the anatomy schools in Edinburgh and Newcastle.

Seahouses One of the joys of Seahouses is following the village trail, especially exploring the squares where the fishing families lived. The two sandstone gate posts at the end of Chapel Row carry deep scars formed by where the fishermen and their wives would sharpen their knives for preparing the bait or working on the nets.

Berwick stocks The original Berwick stocks are first recorded as being used in 1604. They were sited at the south side of the Town Hall and could hold three people. They were moved inside the building and these reciplicas now stand in their place on the east wall. A plaque above them gives a fascinating insight into late medieval and Georgian life.

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Newcastle

Under its own steam When the Newcastle and Carlisle Railway opened throughout its full length of 61 miles in June 1838, it became the first east to west crosscountry line in the country and the longest rail route to be approved by Parliament. To commemorate this significant step, one of the regionâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s leading landscape artists, John Wilson Carmichael, started work on a series of drawings illustrating the construction of the railway in 1835. Three collections of prints produced from engravings were published between 1836 and 1838, entitled Views on the Newcastle upon Tyne and Carlisle Railway with descriptions by J Blackmore, engineer to the company. Here, STEWART BONNEY, who acquired a full set of these drawings, looks into how this ground-breaking railway line came to be built. 22

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Blenkinsopp

Prudhoe Castle

n 1824, at the first recorded public meeting to discuss whether a railway line should be built to link Newcastle and Carlisle, one man who opposed the idea was corn merchant William Armstrong (whose son became the industrialist William George Armstrong). He argued that a canal would be a more practical transport link, but as this scheme would have required no less than 117 locks, the plan had very few supporters. The pro-railway men at the meeting, including politicians Sir James Graham of Kirkstall and Matthew White Ridley, won the day and appointed John Adamson

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The Cowran Cut

and John Clayton as company secretaries for the Newcastle on Tyne and Carlisle Railroad Company, which was formed in March 1825. Following intense opposition from numerous landowners, the route of the line was agreed in 1828 and the project received Royal Assent on May 22, 1829. At this point, it was envisaged that the line would run for 63 miles from The Close in Newcastle to Canal Basin in Carlisle. The plan for a railway link was welcomed by almost everyone, as this was an era when stagecoaches took 8Â˝ hours to complete the journey and

goods-carrying carts often choked the old Military Road and could take three days to go from city to city. When the job of railway line engineer in charge of the project was advertised in 1830, Isambard Kingdom Brunel and George Stephenson (later to become known as the Father of the Railways) both applied, but the job was given to Francis Giles, perhaps the outsider as he was a canal engineer, but not that much of a surprise given that he had become a major shareholder in the company. Work to construct the line between Blenkinsopp and Carlisle

Warden Bridge

Hellbeck Embankment

began in 1830. At the eastern end of the proposed line, it was decided to make a temporary terminus at Blaydon until a new bridge could be built over the Tyne. In 1834, permission was given to the railway company to use steam traction in place of horse traction and it ordered three engines, including the Rapid built by Robert Stephenson & Co, Newcastle. The first section of the line to be completed was between Blaydon and Hexham, and its official opening for passenger traffic came on March 9, 1835. The 600 people who bought tickets for the first ceremonial trip travelled on two trains each with 23 open trucks fitted with bench seats. The Newcastle Journal referred to

Rose Hill, Gilsland

the railway as “a stupendous work, a new source of wealth”. It was “a tract of country rarely visited and but little known... which has been made to constitute a vast emporium of commerce.” In 1836, sections of the line between Hexham and Haydon Bridge, and Carlisle and Blenkinsopp Colliery (Greenhead) were opened, and finally in June 1838, the full 60¾ mile line was completed. Between 1837 and 1839, the route east was extended towards Newcastle following the construction of a timber bridge at Scotswood, and in 1839 the number of passengers using the line reached 236,000. The following year saw the

introduction of what was the first railway excursion, which allowed passengers to purchase tickets at special rates to travel from Carlisle to visit the Newcastle Polytechnic Exhibition. The line also quickly built up a thriving freight trade carrying goods and minerals using 220 goods trucks and 570 open Chaldron waggons, which carried coal, lime, timber, wool, grain and manufactured goods. In 1837, fish traffic included sole and turbot caught on the west coast which had rarely been seen in Newcastle before then. By 1839 freight trains also began carrying Irish bacon to Tyneside. The new railway had involved the construction of 25 bridges over the line,

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West End of Haltwhistle Tunnel

Ridley Hall from near Bardon Mill

Wetheral Bridge

Carlisle

36 bridges under the tracks, 61 level crossings and 95 field crossings. The line to Forth Banks in the city was opened in November 1846, the newly built John Dobson-designed Central Station was opened by Queen Victoria in 1850, and the first train to depart for Carlisle from here left on January 1, 1851. The railway passed through

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Scotswood, Blaydon, Ryton, Wylam, Prudhoe, Stocksfield, Riding Mill, Corbridge, Hexham, Fourstones, Haydon Bridge, Bardon Mill, Haltwhistle, Greenhead and Rose Hill; then in Cumberland through Low Row, Milton, How Mill, Wetheral and Scotby before reaching Carlisle. In 1862, the Newcastle and Carlisle

Railway became part of the North Eastern Railway. Trains today still run along what is now known as the Tyne Valley line and pass through Wylam Station, which is one of the world’s oldest stations still in use. Historical source information from ‘The Railways of Northumberland and Newcastle, 1828 -1998’, by JA Wells

Piece of mind JANET HARDIE, granddaughter of Sir Charles Trevelyan, who gave the Wallington estate to the National Trust, remembers her mother Patricia Jennings, who lived at Wallington until shortly before her death in 2013, and left behind her boxes of homemade jigsaws which now, more than ever, are proving their value during lockdown

uring lockdown, we are all trying to find some different indoor activity to turn our hand to. Besides TV or internet, we might read, paint, sew, cook, maybe do Sudoku, quizzes or puzzles. Ah, puzzles! My mother, Patricia Jennings of Wallington, loved to do a jigsaw puzzle. I think it was a family tradition, as I remember being told that my great-grandfather (George Otto Trevelyan) used to have a puzzle on the go in the library. When he walked past it he would pause a moment, stand and look at the pieces, put a couple in place, then walk on. They were wooden in those days and the sole example I have is very brown and faded. Patricia decided when she retired from running The Clock Tower café back in the 1980s that she loved them so much she would make her own, so she bought a jig saw – probably asking for advice from the estate’s joiner. She experimented with different plywoods, found some suitable pictures and glue, and she was off. She made more than 200 over the remaining decades of her life and they have given infinite and continuing pleasure to our extended family and friends. Mind you, they are not at all easy – in fact, words including “fiendish” and “devious” have been used to describe them.

Janet and Patricia

Elf pieces What was her secret? She must have had an excellent eye for a picture that would be right from a jigsawing point of view – good colour, exciting and interesting subject, a subtle change of scenery or repetition. A particularly nice quirk was that she called them her “Elf” puzzles and quite often would include a little elf or two in the puzzle. She became proficient at cutting round her shapes with the machine and I think initially she may have used a template for her more unusual shapes. To begin with, Patricia used Mdf board, which turned out to be not a good idea as it created a lot of dust. Unfortunately, this irritated her eyes and throat, but she soon found another type of three-ply wood. Once all the pieces were cut, she would put them all in a bowl and spend her evenings gently sandpapering the edges to make them smooth. I can see her now, rubbing the pieces while she talked.

Patricia never made the usual puzzle shape, so quite often her pieces did not interlock. This meant the whole puzzle was inclined to shift and open up if you were not very careful. It was therefore difficult for small children to help as a certain amount of dexterity was required to slide the next piece in place. And woe betide anyone who knocked the puzzle board! If a piece fell on the floor it had to be retrieved quickly and there are certainly a few that show signs of the dog’s teeth. The size of the jigsaws varied depending on the picture used, and we were never allowed to have a preview of the finished puzzle on the box. That would be cheating! Some of them were as large as 21”/53cm x 30”/76cm and others quite small. Sometimes, Patricia might find four, perhaps even six, similar small pictures and make a collage of them, but you would not know that and there would be an amusing

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6 in 1 moment when someone would shout, “there are four pictures here, not one!” If it were a large puzzle, she would cut the board into two or three horizontal pieces to make for easier working on the machine. Her method of cutting out the pieces was

quite ingenious – that’s where the word “devious” comes in. She would carefully cut round an object, leaving no clue as to where it might fit in the overall picture. The piece might look like a head or helmet, but could turn out to be a pot or basket.

It can of course be fun doing a puzzle with others, but I remember feeling irritated when my mother said “well done, darling” as I put another piece in place. Or you might be searching for a particular shape or colour which didn’t seem to be there, and find that your jigsaw companion was holding it in their hand, or had moved it from here to there – quite maddening. During this lockdown, however, I am doing them by myself and really enjoying it. Mind you, it has taken me ages to complete one called “The dolphins” and it has been sitting uncompleted on the board for days. Before that I finished “The Battle of Montlhéry” – a 15th Century battle between King Louis XI of France and various warring dukes. I really lived in that battle, as the castle was slowly revealed, then numerous horses appeared, with the handsome Duke leading his troops forward and the fleur-delys flags waving in the wind. There is a moment, as with other puzzles such as Sudoku, when a turning point is reached. A missing piece goes into place, and yes, all those other ones obviously go there, and there, and finally you are on the home straight and it’s finished. The jigsaws are housed in cardboard boxes of varying sizes, often covered in attractive wrapping paper. When a puzzle has been completed we write our names and the date on the inside lid of the box (below). Thus we are making a historical record of who has done them over the years. Our family are meant to circulate the puzzles regularly, but of course right now we cannot. I am so looking forward to doing a swap in the near future.

The battle

Circular Northumberland

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Fly by butterfly IAN KERR celebrates the butterflies bringing vibrant flashes of colour to our gardens during lockdown

ith their amazing lifestyle, butterflies are among the most fascinatingly beautiful creatures in our gardens. Their presence is a subject of delight and really does lift the spirits. Perhaps most fascinating of all are their four stages of development. Tiny eggs laid on nettles and plants hatch to provide caterpillars which in turn develop a hard casing to become chrysalides. That’s followed by the dramatic metamorphosis into the flying marvels we admire. Butterflies’ paper-thin wings and tiny bodies make them appear delicate and vulnerable. But even some common species are capable of incredibly gruelling migrations. And, after years of decline, butterflies in general are on the up. Last year, the warm, damp summer proved their best year since 1997 for numbers and breeding success. I’m occasionally asked about my favourite butterflies; a question I find hard to answer. They include common garden species – peacock, red admiral, small tortoiseshell, speckled wood, comma and painted lady. From the wider countryside, sadly out of bounds now, there is dark green fritillary, common blue, orange tip and green hairstreak. In summer, my eyes often stray from birds to butterflies, even though only 33 species regularly occur in the region. That compares with more than 400 bird species and more than 1,300 different moths. Butterflies are attracted to common garden shrubs and flowers, particularly buddleia, the 24-hour diner which feeds butterflies, bees and other insects by day and moths at night. On a sunny day – and butterflies really do need sunshine – there is nothing more relaxing than watching them systematically exploring the purple and white spearheads of the buddleias under the kitchen window. What could be more stunningly

colourful than the peacock, now one of our most abundant and widespread species? In the early 19th Century it was common, then numbers shrank dramatically and it was rare during the first half of the 20th Century. Then there was a great resurgence as it spread northwards to reoccupy old territory. The red admiral is a star of late summer and autumn. Some breed here, others are continental immigrants. The small tortoiseshell is the quintessential highly coloured garden butterfly. It has been plentiful down the centuries, despite the fact that its essential food, the nettle, isn’t favoured by gardeners. Speckled wood and comma, like the peacock, appear to have been common in the 19th Century. Speckled wood then declined sharply and retreated to southern England, advancing north to reach us again in the early 2000s. It has since spread to most of Northumberland and I’ve begun to notice it on Holy Island. The comma suffered similarly hard times and was probably extinct locally by the late 19th Century, but since the 1990s it’s made a comback. Each summer we’re treated to the welcome arrival of the beautiful, fastflying migratory butterfly, the delightfully named painted lady. Usually, its numbers are modest, but around once a decade

Orange tip

Comma

it erupts out of North Africa in its tens of millions. 2019 was one year when it flocked locally in its thousands. These northward sweeps even cross the Arctic Circle, 3,000km north of the painted lady’s African breeding grounds. Elsewhere in Europe, the painted lady has very attractive names. In France, it is ‘la belle dame’. In Scandinavia it is ‘belladonna’, while in Spain it is ‘bella dama o cardero’, which translates as ‘beautiful lady of the thistles’, a reference to its habit of taking nectar from that plant. It breeds as it travels, which results in wave after wave of bright new painted ladies pouring into gardens. A similar invasion occurred in 2008, when an estimated 11 million arrived in Britain. In April that year my family went on holiday to northern Majorca. One fine breezy morning we visited a huge marshland nature reserve. Standing high on wooden platforms giving panoramic views over miles of reed beds, shallow lakes and canals, everywhere we looked painted ladies were whizzing past. All were heading steadily northwards at a cracking pace. A month later back home, we began to see the results: hundreds of faded, tattered insects, presumably the original pioneers, attracted to buddleias whose flower spikes were just starting to flush with colour. The bright orange and black dark green fritillary has a more restricted range, but is plentiful enough along the north

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Common blue Northumberland coast, Holy Island’s dunes being a hotspot. It also frequents inland areas around Harwood, Rothbury and Wooler. It’s always seemed rather misnamed, as the dark green is under the wing and hard to see. The common blue is plentiful right along the coast, often favouring sheltered

and sunny spots in the dunes. It’s also present inland in many grassy areas, including former railway lines now turned into public tracks and other brownfield sites left by the demise of mining and other industries. The orange tip is white with the brilliant wing splashes which give it its name. It’s another whose fortunes have varied, becoming rare during much of the 20th Century before bouncing back from the 1960s. Once again, it is present in its old habitats of grassland, hedgerow, wood edges and often the verges of country roads. A few years ago, I came across around 100 of them attracted to cuckooflower on an overgrown disused sports field. A week later they’d gone, the plants flattened by council grass cutters. A local councillor claimed credit for “tidying up the weedy field”. He didn’t get my vote.

Green hairstreak is by far the most uncommon of my top 10. Another little stunner, it is more or less restricted to more remote upland areas, particularly where there are banks of bilberry. It’s probably under-recorded simply because a bright green butterfly against a green background can easily escape notice. At one site I try to visit each summer, male green hairstreaks regularly perch on a patch of gorse as they wait for females to pass. Then they really do look stunning against the brilliant yellow flowers. With so many of these creatures around, lockdown doesn’t seem nearly so bad. For more information about butterflies, read Butterflies of North East England published by the Natural History Society of Northumbria, Great North Museum: Hancock, Newcastle, NE2 4PT www.nhsn.ncl.ac.uk

Green hairstreak

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Allan Potts We pay tribute to renowned wildlife photographer and long-time Northumbrian contributor ALLAN POTTS, who died in April

Robin

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Grey seal

Allan at work

Fox cubs

Stewart Bonney, Consulting Editor, The Northumbrian, writes: The staff of The Northumbrian were very saddened to hear last month that award-winning photographer Allan Potts had died. A regular contributor to the magazine for more than 30 years with highly praised and exceptional photographs of wildlife and the Northumbrian landscape, illhealth forced Allan to bring to an end his unbroken flow of articles two years ago. An arable farmer who lived at Backworth, Allan was a Fellow of the

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Royal Photographic Society of Great Britain and had received five highly commended pictures in the BBC Wildlife Photographer of the Year Awards. Ian Kerr, our regular birdwatching contributor and an old friend of Allan, said: “I first met Allan in the 1970s with his old pal Eric Bird, another absolutely superb wildlife photographer. They were out with their cameras at Druridge Bay on a summer evening expedition looking at waders. Over the years, Allan would

scour through his picture library – which contained more than 70,000 images – to illustrate pieces I had written for The Northumbrian. He always managed to come up with the goods. You only had to look at Allan’s pictures to see his skill and appreciate the sheer patience he had to be able to sit in hides for many hours on end to get exactly the shots he wanted.” Allan, who was 81, leaves a widow, Mary and their three children, Helen, Jane and Andrew.

Allan’s daughter Helen Potts writes: Allan was passionate about his farming and photography, but his love for his family was always resolute and quietly abundant. He was so proud of his family and would look at his children and grandchildren and say to Mary, “look at what we started”. He never forgot how fortunate he was to be able to observe nature close up and realised that not everyone had these opportunities. He always hoped that sharing his photographs would help to inspire and encourage others to look more closely at the world around them. Allan was incredibly grateful and appreciative for the love and care that Mary provided, and it was with her support that he was able to remain at

Badger cub

home with all that he loved and found comfort in. It was always her cooking he delighted in the most, her company that provided him with the reassurance and strength during the ebbs of Parkinson’s disease. Allan loved the challenge of contributing to The Northumbrian for so many years, and it is so wonderful for us all to browse through back copies of his articles and photography. He shared with us all his deep love of nature, the rhythms of the seasons and the wildness of the British landscape. Always impressing on us our responsibility for ensuring its protection and balance. We are fundraising for St.Oswald’s Hospice to give deep gratitude for the

care we received as a family during the last years of Allan’s life. Due to the Coronavirus pandemic, hospices are struggling, they receive very little government funding and are reliant on charitable donations to survive. Funerals are restricted with only family members in attendance, so the usual collection box has been reinvented and we asking for donations, little or large, to an online “Just Giving” page that we have set up in Allan’s name. Many people are looking for a way to make a difference, and supporting charities such as this is a fantastic way to say thank you to our healthcare professionals. https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/ allanpotts

Blackbird

Black grouse

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Langleeford

Cuckoo

Linhope Spout Linhope Burn

Puffin

Rabbits

Red squirrel

Northumberland coast

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Following in Bronze Age steps

Settlement above Middledean Burn

ANTHONY TOOLE enjoys pre-lockdown explorations of the remains of some of Northumberland’s Bronze Age settlements

n appearance, it was a spring day. A few wispy clouds did nothing to soften the sharpness of the morning sunlight. Sheep cropped the sparse grass in utter contentment. A flock of fieldfares darted back and forth over a hedge. Yet as we followed the broad track uphill out of Ingram village, we were dazzled by the glare from the stretches of water ice that lay across the footpath. And though we were warm from our gentle exertions, we remained conscious of a chill in the still air. A week earlier, we had struggled through a gale and deep snow on The Cheviot, and a week before that,

Hedgehope Hill had shown not a blemish on its white coat. But this had all gone, leaving only scattered white patches on the highest slopes. Our track, rutted from vehicle use, ran southward, and passed through a series of gates, above the western bank of Fawdon Dean. About ½km further west, a convoy of cars negotiated a track parallel to ours, along the far side of Middledean Burn. Where the track levelled off, we moved onto a subsidiary break to the right, which after little more than 100 metres, brought us to the highest point of Wether Hill, where we entered the first of the

prehistoric settlements we were to come across on the walk. It was hardly visible as we approached, and it was only after we had crossed over a grassy mound that we realised we had stepped into the confines of a circular compound that extended for around 1 acre and enclosed the entire hilltop. Within the circle were several smaller humps and depressions that marked the sites perhaps of individual dwellings, food stores or animal pens. To the north east, what appeared to be an opening in the boundary wall looked across the valley of Middledean Burn toward The Cheviot, with the

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Dunmoor Hill and Breamish Valley from near Ingram village upper reaches of Hedgehope Hill just distinguishable above those of Dunmoor Hill. Curving west on a comparable radius lay Shillmoor, Cushat Law and Hogden Law, while south, rising above a distant Coquet valley filled with a blue haze, were the unmistakeable silhouettes of the Simonsides. Many of the surrounding hillsides were striated with longitudinal furrows, or contoured with cultivation terraces, which testified to an agriculture that must have supported a considerable population. Some of these were undoubtedly mediaeval, but a significant number were much older, dating back as far as the Bronze Age, some 4,000 years ago. Prominent among these relics

was a circular construction below and about 1km to the west, on the far side of Middledean Burn. We moved off to the south west, across a depression and up again to Cochrane Pike. Just beyond the summit were more undulations that marked the positions of ancient walls, though they were less obvious than those on Wether Hill. A crumpled sheep shelter occupied the site, of much more recent origin, though probably built from the stones of the ancient settlement. We now descended to the north west, and dropped steeply into a narrow gorge, then made for a craggy outcrop on the far side. Ahead of us, a line of beaters crossed the slope, driving

pheasants towards the guns of hunters who lay in wait by Middledean Burn. This explained the convoy of vehicles we had seen earlier. Rising over the crag, we found ourselves once again standing within the grass-covered boundary of an ancient settlement, the one we had seen from Wether Hill. The siting of many of these Bronze Age settlements has led to their being classed as hill forts. Most occupy commanding positions, surrounding the tops of hills, though whether they were indeed forts is debateable. They may simply have been family compounds, or the Bronze Age equivalents of villages, with the retaining walls meant to deter wolves rather than human attackers, or to prevent sheep and cattle from wandering. This ‘hill fort’ at the head of Middledean Burn overlooked a crag to its east, but to the west, the land

Track just above Ingram village

Unnamed hillfort to north-east of Old Fawdon Hill The Northumbrian

View west from Wether Hill - Shillmoor and Cushat Law Sheep fold, Cochrane Pike

West Hill from Wether Hill

Brough Law sloped upwards, and would have been less easily defended. On the other hand, a deep depression, which might have been defensive, separated the two westernÂ walls. We followed the slope gently upward to the north east, past a conifer wood, to the ramparts of Brough Law, that had beckoned us from Cochrane Pike. These were bare of grass, and though now collapsed and tip-toed over by sheep,

must once have been very imposing symbols of strength and power to all who gazed at them from even distant hills. As at Wether Hill, this settlement completely encircled the summit, but here, it was perched on the very edge of steep slopes, and commanded virtually the full length of the Breamish valley. On the eastern side of the circle, what appeared to have been a gateway opened onto a track that led downhill,

past several more corrugations, some ancient, but others clearly more recent, to the road, which in a further 1km, returned us to Ingram. A fortnight later, we were again plodding up the track toward Wether Hill. The sun was as bright as previously, and though the ice had gone, a gusting wind made the day feel much cooler. From the high point of the track, we carried on to where another path led into a narrow defile to the left. On the far side, it led through a gate and transformed into a two-wheel track, which continued to the top of Old Fawdon Hill. Here, a trig point stood sentinel in the midst of irregularities that were just recognisable as man-made. On the next hill to the south east lay a more pronounced settlement. To the north east, however, was a hill, the summit of which was circled by terraces at different levels. From here, its appearance recalled images of Glastonbury Tor or Silbury Hill. Had it been situated in the south west of the country rather than the north east, it would, no doubt have become a place of New Age pilgrimage, festooned by legend. Here, it was probably visited, if at all, by a very occasional shepherd. It was not even named on the map.

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East Hill from West Hill We dropped steeply down to a saddle, and on up to West Hill, beyond which we found enough respite from the buffeting wind to pause for lunch. We then continued through a gap in a strip of forest and on up to East Hill, to complete the ridge. A rapid descent took us to the river bank, and a footpath that led us back, once again, to Ingram. Neither of our walks had been arduous. Either would make a very pleasant half-day excursion on a summer day. The highest point reached had been the summit of Cochrane Pike, at 335 metres. And that was from a starting height, at Ingram, of around 120 metres. On the first walk we had dawdled around in five leisurely hours, pausing frequently to take photographs or examine the settlements; the second, spurred as we were by the wind, had taken us three hours. Apart from the distant beaters and hunters on the first day, we had seen nobody. How different it would have been for people travelling these crowded hills 3,000 years earlier.

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Lockdown lapwings and other highlights Northumberland Wildlife Trust chief executive MIKE PRATT celebrates wildlife in lockdown

here it goes, the teewhuppo, tieves nacket, peewype, tumbling and falling out of control; piebald birds on an aerial spool, squealing electronic feedback, their vocals somewhere between The Clangers and a wobbleboard, slurred wheezy squeals, uttered in day and night-time flight rituals. This is the peewit, its fascinatorfeathered crests signalling in the breeze and owl-wide wings making music as they move in semaphore, dot-dash, black-white across the sky. Then, out of clouds like the black and white arrows display team, looping, winnowing and loping, ducking and diving; collecting themselves and landing softly, or jerking upward again into an anarchic loop the loop, all to signal territory and impress and protect the girl. Oh, for the wings of the green plover,

oh, for the cry of the pirouetting, posturing teeawit! On the breeding ground its lovely olive-backed iridescence shades to black as jet, then to malachite, jade or emerald. Tail up, head down in a musing

ritual lekking, the malesâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; cinnamon undercarriage upended brazenly in a flag of passion; male and female teeter around each other in a slow stubble shuffle, the field pitted with their ceremonial scrapes.

Lapwings in flight

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It’s that flight, those calls, the black, white and green sheen, the headgear and those aerobatics that set the lapwing apart, the sum of whose special parts and behaviours have a power to distract us in this lockdown, holding the moment in careless joyfulness, a freedom, that is displayed in their every move and vocalisation, rippling out their aerial somersaulting message of hope to all who stop and watch... Watching lapwings (‘peewype’ in Northumbrian dialect), up the lane from my house between fields and coast, has been my wildlife highlight of the Covid-19 lockdown. They have been so comical, cute, aerobatic and strange in their calls and habits, and we have been able to observe from start to finish their elaborate breeding rituals. We live in challenging, even frightening times, and many are rediscovering that nature is our solace. Every day, people are re-connecting with nature, rebuilding a bond many had lost. We are beginning to re-appreciate what we still have and have no longer. Perhaps it’s the start of nature not being taken so much for granted? Looking towards the day the

restrictions are lifted, I suspect that in the post-Covid world nothing will be quite the same. I hope we eventually go back to embracing and shaking hands while our new bond with nature continues to grow. Do we really want to resume our frenetic lifestyles? Can we continue to travel less, eat more consciously, exercise more and take better care of the natural world? I hope so. The starting point for this to happen is, I believe, in reflecting on the bonds we have formed in lockdown. Despite our

semi-confinement and lack of absolute freedom to move at will and interact with others, nature has genuinely enriched us every day. We can remind ourselves of things noticed in our gardens, parks and skies as spring has unfolded and those of us not on the front line have had, for once, the time to take it in. There have been so many reports of little encounters and observations that have lifted people form their worries and stresses. And in a still wildlife-rich region, more people seem to have been noticing while nature has been making a comeback in places it had previously fled. Hundreds of encounters reported to us at NWT include a lady in Stamfordham who was woken in the night by a fracas in the garden next door. There she saw the bird table knocked to the ground, its peanuts being fought over by two badgers. Others have reported seeing more of the normally elusive hedgehogs in their gardens and learnt what and what not to feed them. One of our trustees, who lives near Hadrian’s Wall, reported a wren nesting by the back door, a preponderance of pygmy shrews, and

Black and white northern lapwing

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a great-crested newt in the garden. Others filmed a red kite over Hexham, life in a backyard pond near Acklington, seal encounters on the beaches around St Mary’s Lighthouse, and dolphins at Cresswell. Others were sustained in the middle of Newcastle by the sight of breeding kittiwakes. NWT field staff and rangers have reported wildlife getting on with things in our absence, a profusion of nesting birds and animals from otters to herons to wagtails and waders. At Hauxley, the only vandalism we have experienced (so far, fingers crossed) was the rubber surround of our big viewing window chiselled away by crows attacking their reflections. We’ve had reports of slow worms, adder and common lizard in new places, and numerous new bird records.

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Unfortunately, some wildlife crime has been reported, including a red squirrel caught and killed in a Fen trap, people interfering illegally with badger setts, poaching and lamping for hares. But I have seen many things that have restored my faith that nature has not yet gone to pot entirely. I’ve seen a peregrine stoop and catch its prey, migrant birds like ouzel, wheatear, whitethroat and swallow drop from the mist, five or more hares every evening, long-eared, little, tawny and barn owls. I’ve seen curlews, in addition to watching those lapwings

Otter

fighting, displaying and settling down on their eggs and raising young. I’ve seen fox and badger, porpoises and gannets at sea, and countless bumble bees and butterflies. I saw a weasel and a stoat, heard skylarks and watched pipits parachuting. I’ve almost become tired of hearing a chiffchaff in my garden, and every evening I’ve been serenaded by yellowhammers, linnets, finches and more, singing out their territorial notes. I’m lucky to live in a wildlife-rich area. There are many areas like this across

the North East and, while these were once richer and more widespread, lockdown has shown us that there are many building blocks in place to enable nature’s recovery. Our absence hasn’t all been positive, though; a resultant lack of countryside management in some places is causing problems for some species. We have not been able to re-introduce further water voles as intended at Kielder, we have planted many fewer trees than planned, some areas have not been managed as necessary. Some sites where people exercise have been a little overused and disturbed. It’s a mixed picture, but for the most part a totally inspiring, nature-filled experience. So, when this is over, will we just go back to, ‘as we were’, nature a mere backdrop? Or will we develop our new relationship with our world? Will we travel less to meetings and introduce more online working? I think that could happen. For me it will. Then, as this becomes the ‘new normal’, we might just coalesce around the longer-term and much bigger issues like climate crisis. And if that emerges from the lockdown, as some bright spark (perhaps a former US President) said, we will not have ‘wasted a crisis’, but used it to solve bigger, connected ones affecting humankind as much as the planet and its ecology. Time will tell…

A dolphin off Bamburgh

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Parliamentary life CHARLIE BENNETT shares a little of his fascination, formed over years, with the rooks which are his closest neighbours

live in a nook of Northumberland called Angerton. The origins of the name are Old English, angr-tun meaning a settlement on grassland. If you were a murder of crows or a parliament of rooks on the lookout for a new des res, you couldn’t pick a better spot. Our local rookery is situated in a plum position surrounded by leatherjacketrich grassland, some worm-filled arable and a few pot-holed lanes to provide pheasant pizza if you can’t be chewed with the graft in the fields. In these times of self-isolation, I have taken to wandering over to the rookery across the field to see what they birds are up to. My interest goes back a long way. As a boy, I was presented with an ailing rook. I was captivated by his blue-black feathers and the beady eye that twinkled like the craftiest old woman’s in the village. I think my old rook was too far gone when he was found, so I lost him. However, a seed was sown. Life goes on. The narrative of the rook playing through my life as a part of

the soundtrack to every dog walk. To be precise, their kaaws, cackles and croaks. When we moved here about five years ago, I started to pay more notice. Our house is surrounded by ancient beech trees. They are a landmark; a place where the rooks like to roost in the winter or just stop off mid-foray. Over the years, I have learnt to stand still in the lee of a tall hedge and listen. “I’m off,” one might say and take flight, going as far as the dead hawthorn about ¼mile away to the North. If no one joined, her she might kaaw, “come on, I know where there are some leatherjackets.” Her mate and a few others might join her. Or not. Like me if I am called at the pub, I won’t necessarily leave. Of an evening, I will hear them before they arrive. A mid-air chat, “who’s here?” “It’s getting dark.” “They were good worms, we should go back tomorrow.” I honestly don’t know, but the sense I get is of chat rather than coordinates. Rooks are not solitary. They love the company of their kind. I have counted more than 30 nests in the rookery across

the field. It looks chaotic, but the more time I have spent watching them, the more I am convinced it isn’t. There are established pairs; rooks mate for life. There are the young and the singletons. Like us, if they lose a mate, they will look for a replacement. They are bright,

Beech trees

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cognitive creatures. Whether they grieve for a lost mate before moving on, I don’t know, but it wouldn’t surprise me. Death for them is a fact of life. They are on the buzzard’s menu and the farmer’s hit list, especially when the corn is up. Hence their mobbing of any bird of prey and a sixth sense when a gun is in range. The established pairs sit on a branch close to their nest or roost in the nest’s fortress of twiggery. They kaaw others off who covet their set-up or who breech their sense of personal space; like a commuter on a tube train rattling their paper. The young couples look for new nest sites and some are always on guard for danger. During the day when I wander out, there are often a few feeding in the grassland. The worm castes are plentiful, giving the rooks encouraging news of what lies below. They march about like portly generals in baggy britches; the sort that would stop a pig in a passage. They eye the ground, head often cocked to one side, and then drill into it. They extract their beak, tugging on a worm or clamping a leatherjacket. The chat goes on whilst they trundle over the grass. “Come over here it’s a good patch”. “That was a lovely twig you found yesterday Bill” In the holes of our beech trees, we have two pairs of jackdaws. They are fond of the rooks, and I guess the rooks like them, or at least tolerate them. Each day, they commute to join the rook feeding party. Safety in numbers makes sense. Eventually, as twilight comes, they return to their beech trees to roost. Good plan, a sheepskin-lined nest in a nice cosy tree has to top the rooks whose nests are open to whatever nature throws at them. Today in late March, that is an icy blast from the north. They are used to it though, and slowly they are getting used to me.

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Trail of the unexpected BILL MAXWELL’S lockdown walks close to home have yielded treasures he previously didn’t know existed, some of them quite surprising

The start of the walk

ockdown has its positives, one being the opportunity to discover new walks close to home. One such is the Wildspace Art Trail (also known as Cramlington Art Trail, or the Art Trail; you wouldn’t know, because there are no markers to tell you). I only know that it is called The Wildspace Art Trail because I looked it up after discovering it. The trail was proposed by the Widespace Network of public footpaths, tracks and bridleways in the Blyth Valley. Then, in 2003, the South East Northumberland Public Art and Design

initiative Inspire was set up to change negative perceptions and raise aspirations by introducing design to the public realm. It was decided to focus artwork along a 6½ mile circular section of the route, with one piece of art approximately every ½ mile, starting at the Concordia in Cramlington. In lockdown, we’ve been taking the dog for a long walk for 2-3 hours every day. It has been rewarding both physically and mentally, and we have learned much about the history of the area in which we live. Possibly the biggest impact has

been discovering former mining areas regenerated into nature reserves. Prior to finding the Art Trail, we had spent most of our walking time on the regenerated pastures of East Cramlington, close to Seaton Delaval. A huge open space with a pond, acres of land, forests and a club house for those flying remotecontrolled aircraft. It was by accident that we discovered the trail. From Whitley Bay, you go to Earsdon then onto the A192 through Holywell Village and Seaton Delaval. Follow the A192 through Seaton Delaval

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The strange iron gates as if heading towards Morpeth. You will pass Graham’s Hair products, The Forge and a Spiritualist Church on your left. At a small roundabout, turn left on the B1326 to Cramlington Hospital. About 500 yards down the hill you will see on your left a small tarmac area next to East Cramlington

Pond (signposted). Park here or on the grass verge beyond. Walk down the verge, past a red squirrel signpost where, behind three turn right signs, you will spot a small bridge over a reddish coloured stream. This is the starting point. Follow a narrow footpath into the

woods. After about 200 yards, the path bends to the right and leads towards a high fence skirting a small industrial estate. Turn left at the fence and walk roughly 400 yards along a disused railway line. At first, you will wonder what the distraction is ahead on the right. It is a polished and lacquered aluminium statue of something, or someone, that seems to resemble a nun. It is, in fact, a capella, or wayside shrine (the word also means ‘cloak’). Some people call it The Shroud. Some people informed me that it was a place you could shelter yourself from the rain! It is the work of Paula Chambers. Wayside shrines, capellas, are found all over the world, traditionally at important points of any journey - crossroads, resting points; a chance to pray for a safe journey. It was so unusual to discover anything as unexpected as this that it really lifted my spirits. What on earth was this statue doing in the middle of nowhere? I stood and took it all in. The statue, the disused railway line, the birdsong, the trees, and then the sound of a freight train that I later discovered travelled between Newcastle and the Alcan power station carrying fuel. Carry on in the same direction until you come to a T-junction at about 600 yards and turn right. It is possible that you will meet other walkers at this point as there is a popular route (if you were to turn left) that takes you towards Seaton Delaval and past Holy Trinity Church, Seghill. I have asked the locals at this point what the shroud was all about, but no one

Eat for England The Northumbrian

seems to know, apart from it being used as a shelter. The trail continues for a further 300 yards to a pair of wrought iron gates. What is unusual is that they seem to have no purpose. They do not prevent you from passing, they are not even a barrier. However, they do have warning signs chiselled onto their frame. No Entry. Trespassers will be Prosecuted. The most obscure is: “The gates with their warning signs only served to invite further investigations beyond”. Another piece of art, by Simon Ridge. Ignoring the warnings, carry on 200 yards to a fence that protects some magnificent chickens, and turn left past the

fencing. This area was originally Middle Farm, Seghill. It is now known as The Grange, a hamlet where old farm houses and barns have been rebuilt. Turn left at Bamburgh House, go through the gates and straight ahead with trees on your right and open fields on your left. After 500 yards you will come to a T-junction. Turn left and follow the path. As you walk you will see Cramlington Hospital on your right. If your eyesight is good, you might also just be able to see an enormous spoon. Keep on the path across a bridge. On your right are two open fields. Turn right along the path to find The Spoon, which is also called Eat for England. It is

Bill’s map (not to scale!)

Capella

15ft. high, built of stainless steel, and has been here since 2006. It is the work of the sculptor Bob Budd. Asked why he had decided to place the spoon here, tucking into the farmland, he said, simply: “Fields are where food is produced; it seemed a logical place.” The sculpture aims to raise a question about our current attitude towards the countryside. “Eat for England” reminds us of war-time slogans such as “Dig for Victory” when the food trade was severely shortened and virtually all our food was grown in Britain on farms and smallholdings. To continue the walk, you carry on along the pathway, through an underpass, across a road and continue the walk to Concordia in Cramlington. But I don’t recommend it. The original walk was designed to start at Concordia, go through the underpass which was encased with flashing lights that were, apparently, fantastic to behold and was one of the first pieces of Art on the trail. Unfortunately, the light show no longer exists. Like many underpasses, it is a mess. The lights and installations have been smashed, graffiti covers the walls, beer cans and rubbish litter the ground. It is not very welcoming. I suggest that you turn around and walk back the way you came. You will then have the opportunity of seeing what is left of the original Art Trail. What’s more, there are some interesting walks off the trail. Although the trail was initially planned as a 6½ mile walk with art work every ½ mile, the 4½ mile trail offers three intriguing pieces during your 1½ hour journey, placed in order that the hunt for them becomes part of the overall experience. A trail, as mentioned, of the unexpected indeed.

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Meat the Wilsons As the Covid-19 crisis continues to unfold, KATE STANLEY talks to members of a remarkable Northumbrian farming family about adjusting to survive during these unprecedented times

ust weeks before the Covid-19 pandemic took hold, Ingram Valley Farm had reason to celebrate. The 2,000-acre organic farm, set in the stunning Northumberland National Park, had clinched a new deal that would see its award-winning lamb supplied to restaurants and corporate events throughout the North East. But, as the country went into lockdown and the hospitality sector ground to a halt, the £250,000-a-year contract with national food service wholesaler Bidfood was put on hold. The disappointment felt by the Wilson family, who have farmed the land since 1949, is tangible. “Even deep in the Ingram Valley, Covid-19 has really had a major impact, not least to farms like ours where getting our produce to market is proving more challenging,”

says Rebecca Wilson, who is a partner in the business alongside her husband Ross and father-in-law Johnny. “Bidfood approached us last year about our lamb and in February, following many meetings, it listed five of our key products to supply to its North East clients in hospitality and corporate events. “It seems like only yesterday we were celebrating the fact our meat would be enjoyed by diners the length and breadth of the region; now we must put those plans on hold and refocus, to ensure we can supply our meat where it is most needed.” While the closure of restaurants has heavily impacted the supply chain, on the flip side of the coin demand for home delivery of food has never been higher, as families isolate and footfall in supermarkets slumps.

“These unprecedented times have really forced a shift on how we are operating. Demand for our lamb across the North East has never been as high, so our priority has been ensuring we have enough produce that can be safely delivered directly to people’s doors,” says Rebecca. “Looking ahead, we will work with other North East farms that share the same high environmental standards and high welfare standards, so we can all meet the increased demand for home delivery, zero food waste and zero hunger.” Ingram Valley Farm has adapted to offer customers a contactless home delivery service of its award-winning lamb, which was listed in The Sunday Times’ Best Fireside Treats. The business has developed its online shop with Turnbull’s of Alnwick and is also working with North

Ross, Rebecca and Johnny Wilson

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Yorkshire-based meat box supplier Holme Farmed Venison to deliver its produce. “Both Turnbull’s and Holme Farmed Venison have some of the highest hygiene ratings in the country. Holme Farmed Venison has an AA* British Retail Accreditation hygiene rating, with PPE equipment worn at all times, so we know that our meat is being packed and delivered to the highest standards during this pandemic,” explains Rebecca. “Given the current climate, this is equally as important to the customer as the produce itself.” With the world now highly sensitive to all matters surrounding health and hygiene, it is no surprise, given its high quality and standards, that Ingram lamb is in demand. The valley within which the farm is situated was formed more than 480 million years ago, and running through it is the River Breamish – one of the cleanest rivers in the world. The land has been farmed sustainably for the last 6,000 years and is considered by experts to be one of the finest prehistoric landscapes in the country. It contains remains from the Neolithic, Bronze and Iron Ages, Romano-British and medieval periods and under a Heritage Partnership Agreement between the Wilsons and English Heritage in 2010, a total of 1,300 acres was scheduled as an ancient monument. Within this rich archaeological landscape, the Wilsons run a pasture-fed, outdoor-reared farm with 1,400 sheep, 1,500 prime lambs, 100 beef cattle and 100 red deer. “Our ethos to farm sustainably is our

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top priority. This land has been farmed for thousands of years and we need to preserve and protect the incredible ecosystems here,” says Ross, who grew up on the farm with his father Johnny and late mother Sarah. “Our free-range, natural pasture-fed livestock roam on the hillsides as they would have done thousands of years ago. They drink the crystal-clear waters of the

river and breathe the clean upland air. Our upland lambs forage for food, grazing on heather, virgin grass and wild herbs resulting in a leaner and more complex flavour profile. In a nutshell, we believe our meat is second to none and has been awarded for its tenderness and taste. “But its not just about our produce – we work to improve farming in remote rural communities, we continue

Ross and Rebecca with their children to protect the landscape and we are committed to operating a sustainable farming system that can thrive in the many years ahead.” Their work hasn’t gone unrecognised. Last year they became the first farm in the world to achieve certification to The Planet Mark, a programme that recognises commitment to the continuous improvement in sustainability, achieved by cutting carbon emissions through reductions in energy, waste, travel and procurement. “We are very passionate about helping to reverse climate change and certification has helped us to see how we can apply sustainability across the farm and the office, from using electric vehicles for travel and investing in green energy, to using Cool Earth paper in the office,” says Rebecca. Founder of The Planet Mark, Steve Malkin, adds: “Sustainability beats at the heart of Ingram Valley. Their commitment to sustainable produce and local farming can be combined with continuous improvement in sustainability to assure its customers that its values and practice are united. Ingram Valley is leading the way

in sustainable farming and I am excited to begin working with them.” Through The Planet Mark, Ingram Valley Farm has linked up with sustainability partner Fooditude, a London-based contract catering company that usually caters to tech-media firms. Fooditude initially had to close its central kitchen in March due to the coronavirus outbreak and a fall in demand. Both Fooditude and Ingram Valley Farm follow the same United Nations Sustainable Development Goals as part of their work together with The Planet Mark. Adjusting to the circumstances, Fooditude re-opened its kitchen in April as a community kitchen to deliver readymade meals to vulnerable groups, those self-isolating, ex-military and the homeless in the Southwark area. London has seen some of the highest rates of Covid-19 cases in the country. Rebecca believes it is important to support Fooditude. “It went from providing 400 meals in the first week of re-opening, to serving 4500 meals last week. We donated a big box of Ingram Valley lamb and we are sending some of our lamb mince,” she says.

Closer to home, Ingram Valley Farm has pledged its support to Food and Drink North East (FADNE), an organisation created to champion the region’s growing food and drink sector and drive economic growth. Around 300 food producers and suppliers from across Teesside, County Durham, Tyneside, Wearside and Northumberland have signed up to be part of the initiative. “In response to the Covid-19 crisis, FADNE has created a ‘Local Heroes Virtual Food Market’ to sell and deliver food and drink throughout the region, and set up a GoFundMe page to help protect jobs and kickstart cashflow in the sector,” explains Rebecca. “The campaign is backed by North East Masterchef finalist Dave Coulson, who has used our lamb in his restaurant, Peace & Loaf in Jesmond, Newcastle, and we want to do whatever we can to support it. “Businesses need to support other businesses, not just in the North East, but nationally if they can. Times like this make us resilient and force us to look at ways to diversify; people do what they can, not only to survive but to help others survive too.”

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TOPPING SUGGESTIONS: sea salt flakes, nigella seeds, chilli flakes, black and/or white sesame seeds Method Preheat oven to 200C/Gas 6. Chop potatoes into 3-4cm chunks, add to a pan of boiling water, cook for 10 mins and drain. Place a large frying pan on the heat and add a drizzle of olive oil. Once the oil is hot, add the lamb chops and sear on all sides until browned. Place the potatoes in a medium oven tray and place the lamb chops among them. Add rosemary, asparagus spears and peas and roast in the oven for 10 mins until the asparagus is cooked and the potatoes are crisp. Serve immediately.

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News Just the tonic

Violet Blossom tonic

Mikey Enright The founder of Alnwick-based Artisan Drinks Co says the business is continuing to expand with new methods of reaching customers during the Covid-19 lockdown. For founder Steve Cooper, Artisan is the culmination of years of experience in the drinks industry. A previous head of innovation for Coca Cola, it was while he was working in Australia that Artisan Drinks was born. Steve and his friend Alan Walsh, an artist who has worked on many major branding campaigns, went out one night to The Barbershop, a Sydney bar recently voted The Best Gin Bar in the World. They got talking to bar owner Mikey Enright and realised that their various skills were the perfect mix to launch their own

Steve Cooper company – creating premium mixers in unique flavours and with a highly visible brand. “The growth in premium spirits made us realise there was a real market for an innovative premium mixer range,” said Steve. “There were other companies which have certainly paved the way, but we like to think of ourselves as the next generation of mixers, building on what’s gone before and offering something really different.” That “something different” seems to be hitting the mark, with a major export campaign on course for rapid expansion before Covid-19 hit. However, the company is simply taking it in its stride and finding new ways to work. Online orders via its Artisan Drinks shop (www.

artisansdrinksc.com) and outlets like Amazon are ensuring that the company is weathering the current storm. The Artisan Drinks stable currently includes seven flavours, all of them natural, comprising Violet Blossom Tonic, Agave Lemon Tonic, Pink Citrus Tonic, Classic London Tonic and a Skinny London Tonic, along with a Barrel Smoked Cola and a Fiery Ginger Beer. Pink Citrus Tonic was voted number one by 38,000 members of the Craft Gin Club, the largest monthly gin box subscription in the UK. “That was a fantastic accolade for us and just shows we’re on the right track,” said Steve. The mixer market has come a long way since your drink was topped up out of a gun in a bar with some syrupy mixture purporting to be cola, soda or tonic. “There’s been an incredible change in this market, because people now want to drink premium spirits and they, understandably, want a premium mixer to enjoy it at its best,” said Steve. “And that’s what we’re offering.”

Alan Walsh

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Garden writer in spotlight

Photo: Shona Branigan Allendale-based gardening writer Susie White, who writes for several publications including The Northumbrian, The Guardian, BBC Countryfile magazine and My Weekly, has been honoured for her work, having been long-listed for Garden Journalist of the Year in the Property Press Awards. She was listed alongside well-known gardening experts including Monty Don, Alan Titchmarsh and Adam Frost of BBC Gardeners World. Susie said: “It’s a real honour to be

listed alongside some of the top names in the gardening world. Making it this far is very satisfying.” Susie is a freelance garden writer, photographer and author of eight books. She spent 23 years at Chesters Walled Garden in the Tyne Valley, where she developed her free-flowing planting style which owes much to herbs, wildflowers, childhood plants and unusual perennials. With her husband David Oakley, she has created a new garden in a valley in the North Pennines which was featured on BBC Gardeners’ World in 2014.

Mystery of castle’s ghostly guest

Medieval Langley Castle Hotel near Hexham is appealing to genealogists to clarify the identity of its resident ghost. Staff and visitors have long claimed to have seen an apparition described as the ‘grey lady’, sobbing uncontrollably and heading towards a window. It has been said this was Maud de Lucy, who, on hearing news of her knight husband’s death in battle, jumped from the castle’s highest window. Some have claimed she was the wife of the knight who built

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Langley Castle in 1350, Sir Thomas De Lucy. But a study of the genealogy of the De Lucy family has led staff at the hotel to wonder if the ghost is in fact Agnes, stepmother to Maud. The team are now appealing to genealogy experts and history buffs to help it determine whether its sole lockdown guest has indeed been checked in under the wrong name for decades, if not centuries.

Pru wins crime thriller award

Warkworth-based crime writer Pru Heathcote’s first book, Don’t Leave, which she wrote in the first month of lockdown, has won the Lindisfarne Prize for Crime Fiction. The award, for debut works of crime fiction featuring the North East, is sponsored by Northumberland-based author LJ Ross in association with Newcastle Noir Crime Writing Festival. It attracted more than 500 entries. Don’t Leave is a psychological thriller with a supernatural element set in a location inspired by The Old Bathing House on the Northumberland coast at Howick. “I only started writing the book at the start of the Covid-19 lockdown and just managed to get the entry in by the end of March deadline,” said Pru. LJ Ross was impressed by the way Pru had “brought all the strands together” in combining the crime and supernatural elements. “It’s not easy to meld such different concepts into the story,” she said. “It showed a raw natural talent. There is a great twist in the tail, with shades of Daphne DuMaurier.”

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Book reviews By STEWART BONNEY NON-FICTION

VISITORS’ HISTORIC BRITAIN NORTHUMBERLAND ROMANS TO VICTORIANS By Craig Armstrong Published by Pen and Sword History (www.pen-and-sword.co.uk) Softback £12.99 This Northumbrian-born author’s latest book provides a detailed overview of the county’s history and a visitor guide to historic places. The first chapter focuses on the Roman occupation AD43-399. The legions faced resistance from northern tribes for decades, and when Hadrian visited in AD122 he ordered the construction of his wall to separate the Roman British from northern barbarians. Other Roman locations featured include the fort and supply base at Corstopitum near Corbridge; the growth of civilian settlements known as vici that developed next to forts such as Vindolanda; and Housesteads, the most complete example of a Roman fort in Britain. Moving into the Anglo-Saxon period, in 547 Ida the Flamebearer captured the coastal fort of Din Guyaroi, which was pivotal in establishing the Kingdom of Bernicia. By 593, the kingdom was ruled by King Aethelfrith who, having seized power in neighbouring Deira, combined them to form the kingdom of Northumbria. Later, King Oswald installed an Irish monk named Aidan to oversee the conversion of Northumbrians to the Celtic Christian church. He chose Lindisfarne as a base for his bishopric, founding a priory there in 635

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which became one of the most important centres of early English Christian religion. In 793 the island was subjected to the first attack by Vikings. For the next century, this rich monastery was the target of more raids. In 875, the monks abandoned the island. After King Aethelfrith, between 617-670, successive Anglian kings Edwin, Oswald and Oswui made Bamburgh the capital of the High Kings of England. Work to build a castle keep began in the reign of Henry I. It received its first attack in 1138, when David I of Scotland invaded Northumberland. It was subject to numerous sieges during the War of the Roses. In 1463, it was besieged and taken by 10,000-strong Yorkist forces. When it was attacked by the Earl of Warwick a year later, it was the first English castle brought low by artillery fire. Throughout the medieval period, Northumberland was on the front lines of Anglo-Scottish Wars. This led to the county having more castles and towers than any other in England. Alnwick Castle was so well fortified that it was largely untouched in the early Anglo-Scottish wars. In 1309, it was bought by Lord Henry Percy, beginning an association with this family which continues. Norham Castle, founded in 1121 to protect a vital crossing point on the River Tweed, was, over the centuries, besieged on at least nine occasions. Largely destroyed in 1513, it was soon rebuilt and turned into an early Tudor border fortress. Warkworth Castle was granted to Henry Percy in 1332 and remained the family’s principal seat until 1576. Thereafter, it was left in a ruinous state until the fourth Duke of Northumberland, Admiral Algernon Percy, repaired it in the early 19th Century. Country seats featured include Wallington Hall. Originally the seat of the Fenwick family, it passed to Sir William Blackett who knocked down a Pele tower and built a country house. He died in 1705, his reputation for partying continued by his son Arthur, whose father famously employed six men purely for the purpose of carrying him and his drunken guests to bedrooms after parties. Arthur, who was an MP for Newcastle, died in 1728 with debts equivalent to £10m today. The estate passed to the Trevelyan family in 1777. Cragside, another country house highlighted in the book, was built on crags

near Rothbury on land owned by the entrepreneur, engineer and businessman William George Armstrong, later Lord Armstrong. He designed a water-driven piston engine used to power hydraulic cranes worldwide, and he became a weapons manufacturer and warship builder. His country house, which took 30 years to complete in the latter part of the 19th Century, was described by Pevsner as ‘the most dramatic Victorian mansion in the North of England’. CHILDREN’S

THE RETURN OF KITTY THE TOON by John Mills, illustrations by Sarah Farooqi Published by Chick Books (www.chickbooks.co.uk) Softback £5 + p&p Containing fine colour illustrations, this book highlights the importance of the kittiwakes who, since the 1960s, have made their home on the River Tyne in Newcastle and Gateshead. These are the first known inland nesting colonies of kittiwakes in the world. The Tyne Bridge now has around 700 nesting pairs around its structure. The story follows the adventures of ‘Kitty’ as she crosses the Atlantic, survives storms, makes landfall in Newfoundland, then, navigating by the stars and the magnetic force of the planet, makes the long journey back to Tyneside. Joined by a new partner, she then searches for a suitable nest site for the breeding season and finds a space on the ledges of the old Baltic Flour Mill.

Feedback Our loyal readers get in touch with us in multiple ways, from Facebook to phone calls, emails to good old traditional pen and paper. Whichever way you wish to get in touch, we love hearing from you. Here are some of your comments since the last edition. We look forward to hearing from you when you’ve read this one…

I am writing apropos your article on the Enigma code (The Northumbrian 175). I was evacuated to Beadnell in 1940 from Newcastle, and at the age of seven saw a black twin-engined German aeroplane fly 50ft or less above our house. For a boy of seven, it was a thrill and I can still see the German with a leather helmet and goggles on his fore-head, holding on to a massive machine gun pointing my way, looking from side to side, obviously lost. It has been suggested this was Hess. Name and address supplied

I am very disappointed in the information in the article concerning the end of the war (The Northumbrian 175) , because the war in the Far East continued until August 15, 1945. My father was in the Northumberland Fusiliers, many of whom were captured by the Japanese at the fall of Singapore. He survived until August 1, 1944. I never met him as I was born after he sailed. They suffered greatly at the hand of their captors, however they have been known as the forgotten army for good reason. I love to read The Northumbrian, however on this occasion I am very hurt by the fact the FEPOWs have been totally dismissed and the war in the Far East once again forgotten. The article in itself was very interesting and will be read by many, so sad the date printed of the 75th anniversary of the end the war was not correct. Many of the Northumberlands where not regular soldiers, they were territorial volunteers. Hazel Campbell, via email The editor replies: Our apologies to Mrs Campbell and anyone who was similarly upset by our mistake. Indeed, we’re very well aware that the war in Japan continued for a further six months and thank Mrs Campbell for writing to point out our mistake. The FEPOWs are certainly not forgotten here at The Northumbrian, and we will mark VJ Day later in the year.

In the picture I am a photographer recently moved to Northumberland from London. I run my own family photography business - Anna Allan Photography. During the past month I’ve been at home and unable to take any clients for photoshoots, so I’ve been keeping myself busy photographing the spring lambs living in the field by my house. I thought you might like to use them. Anna Allan www.annaallan.com

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I am the fortunate recipient of The Northumbrian; a lovely Christmas present. I was delighted to get issue 175 and find it contained an article on Thomas Garbutt Knott, about whom I knew little. As a resident of Heddon-on-the-Wall, I am familiar with Knott Memorial Hall in the heart of our village, as featured in the photograph on page 25. However, I was dismayed to read at the beginning of the article (page 22) that it was placed in Wylam, and so I have felt moved to write a little part of the history of the Knott family in relation to our village. In 1906, James Knott moved to Close House and in 1918, the now Sir James Knott bought property in Heddon-on-the-Wall. Following the loss of two of his sons, Henry Basil and James Leadbitter, in the Great War, he created the Memorial Park in 1925 in the centre of Heddon. The village war memorial stands there inscribed with the names of Heddon men who died in the War, including the Knott brothers. Then Sir James supported the building of the Church of St James and St Basil in Fenham with its twin naves and memorial window reproduced on page 24 of the article. Sir James died in 1934 and the Knott Memorial Hall was built in memory of him and Lady Knott and gifted to the village by Thomas Garbutt. There is information on the internet and also on www.heddonhistory.weebly.com/sir-james-knott Margaret Selman, via email

I was born & bred in Wallsend. My son now lives in Cardiff and a few years ago he and his sister were browsing in a second hand book shop in Cardiff when they came across the book The History of the Parish of Wallsend by William Richardson. As I was approaching a significant birthday, they thought this an ideal present. Gratefully accepted, I immediately started thumbing through the pages. Under a chapter entitled Additional Biographical Notes, there was a section on Sir James Knott. I noticed at the bottom of the page a pencilled note indicating the death of his son Henry Basil Knott, which reads: ‘I helped carry this son over a mile from the trench and four of us stretcher bearers got a £5 note between us. The journey was hell itself. He died 2am in hospital on the 16th’ An addition to the article, but sadly there is no indication as to the author of the note, or how this book made its way from Wallsend to Cardiff. Peter Blacklock, via email

Letters Please find attached payment for 12 issues of The Northumbrian. I look forward to receiving it; it’s beautifully produced with lots of lovely, informative articles. The photographs are stunning. B Etherington, Whitburn, Sunderland The recent letters in issue 175 have prompted me to add our tributes. We have been avid readers of your magazine since

Stewart Bonney’s mother first bought my husband a copy in 1992 (no. 20). He serviced her car at our garage for many years. The standard of writing and photography has never diminished. I have copies of every year since then. We are in our eighties but my daughter is carrying on the family tradition. Her birthday gift is always a subscription to The Northumbrian. Margery and Douglas Barwen, Throckley, Newcastle

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The Northumbrian - Issue No. 176 - June / July 2020

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