Tag: books

Rallying support for Heartbeat jamboree

It’ll be emotional when I am reunited with my dad’s old Jaguar at the Heartbeat Vehicle Rally in June. I’ve not seen it since 2017. If you’d like to help me by sponsoring the event in some way, please get in touch with this paper or through my web page.

A couple of weeks ago I was looking for information about a needlework sampler that featured York Minster, as well as information about a group of girls creating samplers around the village of Lastingham. I’d been contacted by Sarah Duce whose great aunt Hannah Stonehouse completed a different sampler in 1808 and which was one of four about which Sarah was trying to find out more. “I believe one might have been by a Mary Wilson who was born around 1791 in Hartoft, and wondered if there might have been some sort of connection…I believe my Great Grandma x5, Sarah Harding (nee Smith), may have been the teacher of these girls…She was schoolmistress of Lastingham following the death of her schoolmaster husband from consumption at the young age of 30.”

The Minster sampler was sewn by a girl called Ann Raw and I wondered if she had actually been sitting in front of the building to create it. Reader Gillian Hunt contacted me to say: “The York Minster sampler – same motif on another sampler, which suggests the girls were following a design by someone else – maybe by their needlework teacher?” It means they probably did it in a classroom setting.

Gillian specialises in researching samplers like this, and two years ago was very helpful in relation to helping me understand the significance of the needlework motifs on one that hung in my mum’s kitchen by a young girl called Hannah Raw. Is she related to Ann Raw? We don’t yet know.

Gillan informed me in 2023: “Hannah’s sampler has two sets of initials after the date – MR and what looks like ER…If ER is in dark thread, they are most likely to have died before Hannah completed her sampler.”

Gillian discovered that the initials represented Hannah’s parents Matthew and Ellis Raw. Ellis’s initials were in a dark thread and further research confirmed she had indeed passed away. Matthew Raw died a few years after the sampler was created, when Hannah was still a teenager.

Gillian’s help, among others, led us to being able to fill out much of Hannah’s life story. Best of all, we found a living relative, a direct descendant of Hannah’s brother John Raw. My ultimate goal is to find a living relative of Hannah herself.

On another note, I took a trip up to Goathland last weekend to meet the posse who are responsible for organising the annual Heartbeat Vehicle Rally. This year’s event is scheduled for the weekend of 27th and 28th June.

The rally has boomed over the years, and last time attracted around 6,000 visitors over the two days. They flocked to the village to meet star guests and to study the collection of wonderful vintage vehicles, some of which appeared in the TV show. The local businesses do a roaring trade, with hotels, B&Bs and holiday homes fully booked many months in advance. The local cafes and shops are overflowing, and with the car parks bursting at the seams, some prefer to arrive by steam on the North York Moors Railway. It brings a huge financial boost into the area, and yet those who organise it don’t make a penny from it (And, for the record, neither does my family!).

It’s a truly wonderful, family occasion, and those involved in its planning put in hours of hard work, as well as their own money, all for the love of Heartbeat. Any profits raised are donated to Goathland Primary School.

As the event grows in size, the work and challenges, both financial and practical, increase. This year we are looking for sponsorship to help with the mounting costs involved. Please contact me via this paper or my web page if you are willing to help. I will also be knocking on a few business doors over the coming weeks as the event looms.

This year there is one particular vehicle that I cannot wait to see. It is my dad’s very own vintage Mark II Jaguar. That car had been part of our family since I was a child, but sadly we had to sell it in the wake of his death in 2017. I thought I’d never see it again. But now it’s been found and is coming to the rally.

It’s going to be one heck of an emotional reunion!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 27th  and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 25th March 2026

Keeping up with the post

 

 

The picture of a witch post sent to me. By Stanislav Stefane

 

I never know who is going to contact me, nor where they come from, and so I was intrigued when I received the following message from a gentleman called Stanislav Stefane:

“Will you be publishing your father’s papers on the so-called witch posts? There is limited information available online, and I find them fascinating. I am also interested in one that is for sale, dated 1667. Is there perhaps an example with this date mentioned in your father’s papers?”

I replied to him that Dad had composed a whole book about them but sadly died before the final draft made it into print. At the moment there are no plans to publish it, but his extensive historical research is still there in his study. Dad had a very strong Catholic faith and his findings prompted him to believe that many so-called witch posts were not connected to witches at all, but were in fact related to the famous Catholic Martyr of the Moors, Father Nicholas Postgate.

I discovered that Stanislav was based in Slovenia, and asked him what sparked his interest.

“I collect carved oak antiques from the 17th and 18th centuries, mainly pieces that have a carved date and the initials of their owners. By chance, I came across a reference to the so-called ‘witch post,’ which also occasionally bears a carved date. I find the story surrounding them most fascinating. There is one currently for sale, and I thought that perhaps it might have been known to your father. I am not sure whether the post is even original, but if it had been seen by your father, there would be no doubt about its authenticity. I hope you will publish your father’s findings on them. They are probably among the most mysterious and misunderstood of British oak antiques.”

It sounds like Stanislav may have caught the ‘witch post’ bug which affected my dad in the later years of his life, and he would certainly agree with Stanislav’s use of the term ‘misunderstood’. Having started to research them, Dad became more and more fascinated, and began to believe that many of these ‘witch posts’ were not to ward off evil but to indicate ‘safe houses’ for persecuted Catholics.

Even though the full book has not been published Dad did produce an interim pamphlet in 2008, in which he explains why he became so captivated by the topic.

“I began my research more than a year ago but the subject has developed so greatly and produced so many surprises that I have still not completed my investigations…The task is almost complete and it has proved a most enjoyable and enlightening experience.”

Among his files I found a letter to an interested party in which Dad admits that he made mistakes in earlier writings due to the existing information upon which he was relying being incorrect or inaccurate, of which he was unaware at the time. He only realised this once he’d embarked on his own quest to find out more.

“My research into witch posts has revealed quite a lot of errors on my part (and on the part of earlier writers). I hope my recent efforts will rectify some of those – I relied too heavily on earlier works by authors I thought were infallible!”

As yet I have been unable to find Stanislav’s particular post in my dad’s files, but I will keep looking. It has made me think that I ought to do something about all this information that Dad put so much time and effort into researching.

On another note, Katherine Hill has been back in touch after attending a reunion of the Bean family. Katherine contacted me after reading a column where I mentioned Peep o’Day Farm near Husthwaite. She thought her grandfather, Samuel Bean, may have been born there.

A posse of Beans gathered on Sunday March 1st, including her 99-year-old aunt Sylvia, who was a Bean until she married in 1953. “It was a very enjoyable time reminiscing about our childhood at Burton Garth, Knapton.”

Thanks to the endeavours of some very helpful readers, particularly Rex North, I was able to pass on much more information about the Bean family history to her. I wish Katherine all the best with her continuing research and hope there are more Beans yet to be discovered!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 20th  and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 18th March 2026

Snippets from the past all sewn up

 

A needlework sampler showing a view of York Minster created in 1841 by 16-year-old Ann Raw. She included a depiction of a stained glass window and grazing sheep and cattle next to the building. Picture by Witney Antiques.

Another family mystery has landed in my inbox after a reader came across a series of columns I wrote in late 2022/early 2023 about a set of three needlework samplers that had been hanging in my family kitchen for years.

 

Two were done by ancestors on my mum’s side of the family while the third was by a little girl called Hannah Raw, who was only nine when she created it in 1835, but about whom we knew nothing.

 

Following some expert internet sleuthing by my wonderful readers, over the following weeks and months we managed to flesh out much of Hannah’s story, discovering that by the age of 13 she was an orphan, but later married a John Hall, had two children, and even later became a grandmother. She died in 1890 aged 64 and was buried at St Thomas’ Church, Glaisdale. I was ultimately able to find her grave and go and pay my respects.

 

Sarah Duce, who is based in Limerick, Ireland, got in touch: “I am interested in a school of samplers based around Lastingham. My great aunt Hannah Stonehouse…in 1808 completed a sampler which is quite rare apparently and recently sold to the States for a tidy sum because it depicted the Napoleonic Wars.”

 

Sarah’s family came originally from Lastingham, but moved first to Hartlepool then to Scunthorpe. Sarah moved to Ireland 30 years ago and is trying to piece together her North Yorkshire roots.

 

She goes on to explain that Hannah Stonehouse’s sampler was one of four about which she is trying to find out more. “I believe one might have been by a Mary Wilson who was born around 1791 in Hartoft, and wondered if there might have been some sort of connection…I believe my Great Grandma x5, Sarah Harding (nee Smith), may have been the teacher of these girls…She was schoolmistress of Lastingham following the death of her schoolmaster husband from consumption at the young age of 30.”

 

It was not unusual for widows to take on the work of their late husbands to earn a living to support themselves and their children. Sarah had three little ones, the youngest just two weeks old, and was still the schoolmistress at the age 80, as revealed in her entry on the 1841 census.

 

Sarah wondered if Hannah Raw was one of the girls sent to the Lastingham sewing school. She explains that her 5x great grandmother Sarah would have had no formal education and was likely illiterate at the time of her marriage  “…so must have brushed up her skills quickly, but maybe sewing was the backbone of her teachings…I also saw during my research…a newspaper of 1997 illustrating a 1841 sampler by Ann Raw, age 16, entitled the ‘South View of the Minster’…I wonder if there might be a connection there?”

 

I cannot answer that question, and Lastingham is a good 15 miles away from where Hannah Raw lived in the Lealholm area. But perhaps a family history sleuth reading this might be able to help, as they did before when finding out such useful information about Hannah. Raw is a common name, and I would imagine that to produce an image of that view of York Minster in 1841, Ann would have had to have sat in front of it to know what it looked like. That would possibly mean she would have been living in York, which in the 19th century was a long journey from the North York Moors. She was a similar age to Hannah Raw, so perhaps they were cousins?

 

I found an image of the sampler in question on a Facebook page run by Witney Antiques, an Oxfordshire-based specialist in embroidery and samplers. They describe it as follows:

 

‘This sampler, which shows a view of York Minster, was completed by 16-year-old Ann Raw on 14th February 1841. Her handling of the cathedral’s stained glass window is incredibly charming, as is the depiction of grazing sheep and cattle in the grass next to the building.’

 

Sarah ended her message by saying: “You never know where little snippets of info can come from, so you have to keep asking!”

 

You do indeed, Sarah, and I am hoping that someone reading this might just have the key to the little snippets we are looking for.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 13th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 11th March 2026

Mark of respect for lowly corkseller

The corkseller’s grave near Bluewath Beck, high on the North York Moors , in a photo taken by reader John Severs in the 1990s.


I’m am getting some wonderful extra information coming in from you brilliant readers on topics I have covered in recent weeks.

 

If you recall, I’ve been writing about Hamer Inn, which was a thriving coaching stop on the North York Moors on the high road between Glaisdale and Rosedale Abbey. It had a number of previous names including the Lettered Board, and the Wayside Inn, ultimately ending up as Hamer House before it became derelict sometime in the late 1930s we believe. All that remains now are a few stones on a patch of smooth grass.

 

I first mentioned the inn thanks to reader David Ford, who is trying to trace a picture of it before it became derelict. Sadly we have yet to find one, but his message led me to re-read what my dad had written about it, including three stories of mysterious deaths at the inn. In the first, two apparently healthy guests retired to bed, only to be found dead the next day with no apparent cause. The second was a licensee who killed his wife, and the third involved a fight ending with a man being bludgeoned to death with a poker.

 

There was another sad story that occurred not inside the inn itself but nearby. A corkseller was a regular visitor, and David Ford’s ancestors, who were licensees, knew him well. One ferocious winter, he succumbed to the elements and his body was found much later not far from the Lettered Board Inn, his basket of corks lying nearby enabling him to be identified.

 

Reader John Severs got in touch and said: “After reading your article…I rummaged in my documents and photos to find something which may interest you. The photo that I took approximately 30 years ago shows the corkseller’s grave.”

 

The corkeseller’s grave? I was astounded, because I never imagined that such a thing existed, nor that it is still visible to this day. My dad did not mention it in his book and I don’t recall him talking about it to me, which might explain why I remained in ignorance.

 

I wonder if you agree with me, that it is quite a moving and remarkable image, showing the full length of the grave, marked out in stones in the unmistakable shape of a human body.

 

John also sent me a copy of an article written about the same time (1990s) about unconsecrated graves, with a focus on this particular one. The text, written by Paul Grantham, is an extract from the North Moors Association magazine and describes how well received itinerant tradespeople like the corkseller were:

 

‘As well as plying their trade they would bring news of the outside world, provide an extra pair of hands for heavy jobs and when necessary, act as entertainer and confidante…such was the prevailing attitude that they would generally receive, at the minimum, some sustenance and overnight shelter.’

 

Grantham believes our corkseller would have been active on the moors in the 18th century, trekking between isolated farms and inns peddling his wares. He would have been a familiar face and his arrival expected by local farmers and licensees.

 

Sadly, his threadbare clothes were not enough to protect him from one particularly savage winter, and he perished, his body being discovered some time later with his meagre belongings nearby.

 

At the time, no-one would have wanted to take responsibility for transporting him to the nearest church for burial because of the costs involved and so, as was perfectly legal at the time, they would have buried him where he was found.

 

Although this tale was passed down by word of mouth, there are no official records revealing the man’s name or anything else about him. But over the years, passers-by would realign the stone markers and someone occasionally placed a wooden cross at its head (the previous ones being ruined by the elements).

 

I would like to pay my respects next time I am over that way, and if you do too, you will find the grave on the road between Glaisdale and Rosedale Abbey. Stop by the small bridge over Bluewath Beck and walk for 50 yards heading east along the south bank of the stream.

 

I’m not sure if anyone still places a cross there, but if you know anything at all, do tell!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 27th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 25th Feb 2026

Hamer Home a family story

A 1955 photo of the ruins of Hamer Inn, previously known as the Lettered Board. David Ford’s ancestors lived there. Do you have a photo of the inn before it became derelict? Photo: P.W.Hanstock

 

I received an interesting message from reader David Ford: “I’ve just spotted a picture of the ruins of Hamer House on Facebook…My great grandfather Robert Ford was born there, along with several of his siblings. He emigrated to the USA as a young man seeking a better life, and tried gold mining. However he did not find it any easier over there and returned to Glaisdale. His brother Joseph wrote a book about life and times in Danby Dale…I would like a photo of Hamer when it was open as an inn.”

Although I’d heard of Hamer House, I didn’t know much about it. The first article that came up on Google was a piece written 15 years ago by none other than my dad. It jogged a memory of seeing it in one of his books and sure enough, on my very own bookshelf was a copy of Dad’s ‘Murders & Mysteries From The North York Moors’ with a whole section on Hamer.

Dad wrote: “It is believed the licence of this old inn continued until 1929, although it did survive as a private house into the 1930s. The last family living there was called Boddy, and I recall the old house still standing when I cycled past as a child.”

The building had a colourful past, and no doubt makes David’s family history research intriguing. The reason the inn was featured in the ‘Murders’ book is because there are three separate tales of deaths associated with it.

The inn stood at one of the highest parts of the moors, on the road between Glaisdale and Rosedale Abbey at the point where an old monk’s trod, or path, crossed it (where the Lyke Wake Walk traverses that road now). All that remains is a pile of stones, and yet the inn’s ghostly silhouette can be detected in the form of a wide expanse of smooth grass amongst the rough heather, hinting at what was once there – a busy, thriving coaching inn providing rest, warmth and succour for weary travellers. There were active coal mines nearby which drew men to the moors for work, and Eskdale farmers would send wagons of coal to supply places like Cropton, Hutton-le-Hole and Kirkbymoorside.

Although known by many as Hamer Inn, its previous name was the Lettered Board, and my dad believes it had been there for around three centuries. He talks about David’s ancestors in his book:

‘Hamer’s role as an inn declined after 1870, the year a local writer called Joseph Ford was born at the remote house. His father was landlord and I have a copy of a licensing application dated 1858 in which the liquor licence of the Lettered Board was transferred to Joseph Senior.

‘The younger Joseph Ford, who died in 1944, has left behind some stories of Hamer and they provide a vivid picture of the windswept and snowbound inn. He relates how elderly travelling salesmen would trek onto these moors, even in the height of winter, to sell trinkets.’

One sad story concerns a cork-seller who supplied local inn keepers and farmers, and Joseph Ford’s mother knew him well. He succumbed to the ferocious winter weather, and his skeleton was found much later not far from the Lettered Board Inn, his basket of corks lying nearby enabling his body to be identified.

The three cases of deaths at the inn include that of two apparently healthy guests retiring to bed, only to be found dead the next day with no apparent wounds or obvious cause. They may have been poisoned by noxious fumes resulting from recent replastering of the room, but no-one was ever sure.

The second case was a licensee who killed his wife, and quickly moved elsewhere in the dale. He was never prosecuted or imprisoned. The third story tells of a fight breaking out in the bar, and a man being bludgeoned to death with a poker.

Dad writes: “The only remnant of that tale was a heavy iron poker that was chained to the hearth to ensure this sort of thing never happened again. That poker was still there within the memory of my grandparents, but I never saw it.”

Can any of you reading this help David Ford track down a picture of Hamer Inn before it became derelict?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 16th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 14th Jan 2026

The tragic lives of some famous names

Maria Branwell, who fell in love at first sight with the Reverend Patrick Brontë and went on to give birth to six children, including the famous literary sisters. Picture used courtesy of the Brontë Society

A few more people have contacted me about nominative determinism, where a person ends up in a job that reflects their name. Strangely, these all seem to be in the medical or related fields.

Anne-Marie Samuel used to work with a Dr Hurt, while Janet Pearce worked alongside a Nurse Nurse! And LJ Stevens says: “There was a probate registrar in the Ipswich District Probate Registry called Mr De’Ath.” You really couldn’t make it up, could you?

On using maiden names as middle names, Gareth Child says: “I was very nearly given my grandmother’s maiden name as a forename. Luckily for me my mother didn’t want her son to be called Crowther.”

Gareth is a registrar and explains: “At work in the register office I do see relatives’ surnames given to babies as middle names. It’s not frequent, but it is in double figures every year. Also, a growing trend among married women who take their husband’s name is for them to keep their maiden name as a middle name after marriage.”

By that, he means officially adopting their maiden name as a middle name, rather than creating a double-barrelled surname.

He adds: “We have the record of every birth, marriage and death in York since 1837, and it’s a fascinating living record of the city.”

Gareth contacted me again a little later with this piece of trivia: “A buried memory has been niggling away at me for a few days and it finally surfaced today. Branwell Brontë was given that name because it was his mother’s maiden name.”

As I am sure you know, Branwell was the brother of Charlotte, Emily and Anne Brontë, but Gareth’s comment made me more curious about the people in that famous family about whom we hear much less, such as their mother, Maria. And the more I learn, the more tragedy I discover.

Maria Branwell was born in Penzance, Cornwall in 1783, but lost both parents within a year of each other. In 1812, she decided to go and stay with her Aunt Jane in Yorkshire who had married a chap called John Fennell, headmaster of Woodhouse Grove School in Appleby Bridge near Bradford. Maria hadn’t planned to move there permanently but soon after arriving met her Uncle John’s friend, Irish clergyman Patrick Brontë. According to the sources I’ve read, the pair fell instantly in love, and married in December 1812. By then, Maria was 29 and Patrick 35, which was considered a bit long in the tooth to be newly wed, but the pair seemed very happy and their first child, Maria, was born in 1814, swiftly followed by their second, Elizabeth, the following year. Charlotte came along in 1816, followed by Patrick Branwell in 1817. He was given his mother’s maiden name as a middle name, but it was the one by which he was known. Maria gave birth to two more children, Emily in 1818, and finally Anne in 1820.

Unfortunately, in January 1821 when Anne had just turned one, Maria began to feel unwell. She became gravely ill, and died in the September, likely from some form of cancer. Four years later in 1825, the two eldest children, Maria, aged 11, and Elizabeth, aged 10, also died. Poor Patrick Brontë was destined to outlive his whole family, with Branwell and Emily dying in 1848, Anne in 1849, and finally Charlotte in 1855.

The Brontë children were all very intelligent and, as we know, excellent writers. Most would assume their literary prowess was inherited from their learned father, but in fact their mother was talented in that department too, as Charlotte discovered when her father gave her some letters that Maria had written to him during their courtship, 40 years earlier.

“It was strange now to peruse, for the first time, the records of a mind whence my own sprang,” she wrote, “And most strange, and at once sad and sweet, to find that mind of a truly fine, pure, and elevated order…There is a rectitude, a refinement, a constancy, a modesty, a sense, a gentleness about them indescribable I wish she had lived and that I had known her.”

Isn’t it fascinating where the topic of using maiden names as middle names has led me? I wonder where I will end up next week?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 12th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 10th Dec 2025

To name but a few

Dad was very good at coming up with quirky character names in his novels

Back in 2018 I wrote a column about unusual names inspired by an archive piece I’d found by my dad from April 1978 in which he explained that he’d had a schoolfriend called Septimus thanks to the fact he was his family’s seventh son. He was unique because his father was also a seventh son, and so he was in the auspicious position of being the seventh son of a seventh son. These fortunate humans were supposed to have been blessed with supernatural powers, but Dad observed that his friend, whom everyone called Sep, displayed no discernible mystical talents.

Dad was good at coming up with quirky names for the characters in his novels. His best-known was the loveable rogue Claude Jeremiah Greengrass who appeared in many of his Constable books that inspired the TV series Heartbeat. According to Dad, that was a genuine name he had come across as a young bobby and he stored it away in his memory bank until it resurfaced many years later on the pages of the first ‘Heartbeat’ novel (Constable on the Hill, published in 1979). Other fun names he conjured up included Detective Inspector Montague Pluke, Detective Sergeant James Aloyisius Carnaby-King, Sergeant Oscar Blaketon and Constable Alf ‘Volcano’ Ventress.

Brian Reader got in touch via my Countryman’s Daughter web page and informed me: “Two of my grandfather Rocious’s sisters were named Fera and Ellengor! So far I haven’t found the origins.”

I’ve never heard of Rocious, Fera or Ellengor. The only reference I came up with for ‘Rocious’ was in a dictionary of slang where it means ‘amazing’ or ‘cool and trendy’. I wonder if his parents had those traits in mind when naming him? The nearest known name I got to was the Spanish ‘Rocio’, a gender neutral name meaning ‘dew’. The Spanish have used it to refer to the Virgin Mary – ‘La Virgen del Rocio’ (Mary of the Dew).

The next nearest I could get to was ‘Roscius’ which online dictionaries say was a noun first used in Englsih in 1607 to mean ‘actor’. It links back to a famous Roman thespian called Quintus Roscius Gallus, whose reputation in the theatre was legendary, and thus the word ‘Roscian’ became commonplace in the 1600s to refer to someone who had delivered a particularly fine stage performance.

I found a bit more on the name Fera. It is a feminine name derived from the Latin ‘ferus’ which means ‘wild’ or ‘untamed’, and today the Italian word ‘fiero’ means ‘fierce’ or ‘fiery’. ‘Fiera’ as an adjective means ‘proud’ and as a noun means ‘a fete’ or ‘a fair’. In the Calabrian dialect of Italy ‘Fera’ means ‘dolphin’. Fera is also used in Arabic regions and means ‘brave’. It is close to the Irish ‘Feara’ too, which means ‘truth’. I wonder if Brian’s great aunt Fera possessed any of these characteristics?

As for Ellengor, I can find very little in terms of its history as a name or its etymology as a word in any language, never mind English. To me, the name sounds like a character from Arthurian legend, or a queen from Viking mythology. I have found a few mentions of women called ‘Ellengor’, most of whom came from the Northallerton area and one of which might well be Brian’s great aunt. We have Ellengor Barker (1862-1955), Ellengor Bramley (1871-1965), and Ellengor Barker Rollins (1889-1977) all from Northallerton and who might well be related. My guess is that Ellengor Barker Rollins is the daughter of Ellengor Barker.

There are also a couple more: Ellengor Kimberley (b.Boynton) who was born in either 1889, 1899, or 1900 and died in 1961, and her daughter Ellengor Collins (1922-2015). Both of these women came from the Bedale area. I wonder if all the Ellengors are related and named after one original family matriarch?

I’d love to know if any of you have interesting names or do you have a relative who has or had a quirky name? Get in touch with me using the methods below.

(Thanks to Brian inspiring this week’s column, and I hope readers will forgive this public personal message, but it’s the only way I will know that he will see it! Brian just to let you know that I replied to you by email, but have a feeling they may have ended up in your junk folder!).

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 19th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 17th Sept 2025

The tale of the fox kicking the Bucket

A picture of Tom Boyes whom reader Dorothy Jackson knew well, taken from one of poet Bill Fall’s books

One of Tom Boyes’ greyhounds, sketched by Bill Fall. Is this Bucket?

Last week, I thanked reader Bill Filer who put me in touch with Dorothy Jackson from Helmsley, whose family knew Tom Boyes. Boyes, born in Castleton in 1882, was well-known as a horse breeder and dealer and member of the Farndale Hunt, as well as being a good friend of the Danby poet William E Fall (Bill) who wrote dialect verses under the name Erimus. His poems highlighted the quirky characters he came across and several readers have already been in touch with recollections about Bill and his family.

Dorothy revealed she had seen the photo of the 1927 Danby wedding in my previous column and it jogged her memory of having one of Bill Fall’s books, ‘Tom Boyes, Deealsman’. Dorothy has a lovely old moors accent, and explained: “When I saw your column I wondered if I still had that book…I went to the cupboard and it was the first thing that came out, so I hadn’t to look very long for it!” Considering she’s had the book for many years, that was some bit of luck.

She was given it by the Bonas family, who were good friends with Tom Boyes. Dorothy is still in touch with their daughter, now 97 years old. “We’ve always kept in touch and so I was interested to know if she remembered Tom Boyes. I talked to her and straight away she said, ‘Oh yes, Tom Boyes came to our place time and time again!’ He dealt with horses and ponies and her father was the same…At 97 she remembered him straight away!” It is clear Tom Boyes was a memorable character.

Dorothy revealed that during the 1939-1945 war years her family was friendly with the Palmers who owned Grinkle Hall Estate near Danby (now the Grinkle Park Hotel). They got to know them through the Glaisdale Hunt and Dorothy’s father, John Bell Sokell (known as Jack), was on the hunt’s committee.

Mark Palmer, heir to the estate, had gone to fight in WWII as an army captain, and Myrtle Palmer was his sister. Although from a well-to-do family, Myrtle wanted do her bit and registered to support the Home Front.

Dorothy explained: “They came to an arrangement where she would go to Tom Boyes. He had a smallholding and she would work there through the day and return to Grinkle Hall at night time. That went on all through the war years…She was a very hard-working person and very particular with horses,” Dorothy remembered. She also recalled that the Grinkle Hall horses were always very well kept and turned out and that they still had a beautiful old coach in one of the stalls, left behind from the days before motor vehicles.

Dorothy explained that Myrtle had some wonderful scrap books full of photographs documenting her life and the people she had met along the way, including a lot of Tom Boyes. “Myrtle passed away some years ago and I’ve often wondered what happened to those scrap books,” she said.

Mark Palmer married after the war, never returning to the estate, and it was sold to a hospitality group in 1946 which turned it into a hotel, and that is how it has remained ever since. The tenants living in estate properties were offered the chance to buy their homes, which many took up, although Dorothy’s family had already bought a freehold farm at Borrowby, near Staithes, in 1943.

Dorothy remembered a funny story about Boyes that Myrtle had told her: “He always had a greyhound and called it ‘Bucket’ and in one of Bill Fall’s poems, Bucket comes into it.

“One day Tom Boyes was sat on his shooting stick and his terrier went down this fox hole, and the fox came out and knocked Bucket over!” Dorothy chuckled at the memory. “Bucket was just sat there so sackless just looking around and it knocked him over!” Sadly I could not find the poem she refers to in the three books I have.

It was lovely to hear Dorothy use the old northern adjective ‘sackless’ which I’ve not heard for a long time. It has fallen out of common use, but means ‘innocent’ or ‘guiltless’.

I adore hearing first-hand memories like these of times gone by, and am now wondering where Myrtle Palmer’s scrapbooks ended up. Perhaps someone reading this might know?

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 29th Aug and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 27th Aug 2025

Let’s hear it for the Boyes!

The 1927 wedding at St Hilda’s Church, Danby featuring Tom Boyes, wearing a black bowler hat and riding the horse on the far right. He was the subject of a volume of dialect poetry written by Danby poet Erimus, otherwise known as Sophie-Jean’s great-grandfather, Bill Fall.

 

Last week I mentioned Sophie-Jean Fall who was searching for some books of dialect poetry by her great-grandfather, William E Fall (Bill), who wrote under the pseudonym Erimus. A poet herself, she was desperate to find copies but found no trace of them until she came across a 2007 Countryman’s Diary column written by my dad which mentioned that he had four volumes of Erimus’ work.

My own internet sleuthing revealed there had been a total of five books printed between 1976 and 1981 and after a good old rummage around my dad’s study and library, my brother and I managed to find three of the books. The fourth is still missing.

I could not wait to email Sophie-Jean to reveal we had found ‘Tom Boyes, Deealsman’, ‘Queer Fooaks, Tykes!’ and ‘Poetry for t’Peasantry’. “Not only that,” I wrote, “but in one copy were some letters (one from your great-grandfather, one from the lady who sent the books to my dad, and a letter back to her from my dad). The lady in question (a Miss Mitchell) was in her 90s, so is likely to have passed away by now.”

I also discovered, from reading the letters and the preface of the book, that Tom Boyes was a renowned local equestrian, member of the Farndale Hunt, and great friend of Bill. Boyes was born in Castleton in 1882 and ‘Tom Boyes, Deealsman’ was published in 1977, 13 years after his death. Miss Mitchell had included a photo of her aunt’s wedding at St Hilda’s Church, Danby, which she attended as a bridesmaid in 1927 and Mr Boyes appears on horseback, resplendent in his hunting finery.

Every book we found is signed by Bill, and printed in the front of each one is a personal dedication. I wondered if Sophie-Jean knew the names. My favourite appeared in the last book (Poetry for t’Peasantry’, 1981) and reads: ‘To our seven bonnie grand-bairns: Moira, Becky and Jonty; Jamie and Georgina; Nichola and ‘Vicky Toody’’. I assumed one would be Sophie-Jean’s mum or dad. Many of the poems were accompanied by lovely little sketches drawn by Bill.

I also deduced that the ‘biography’ that I referred to last week is not in fact a book, but simply the paragraph at the back of each volume of poetry explaining a bit more about the author (sometimes referred to as the Author’s Bio).

Sophie-Jean quickly replied, and was overcome by our fascinating discovery: “Words cannot express how grateful I am for your dedication to unearthing these volumes for me…On top of that, the mention of letters also has shocked me!”

She adds: “I know three of the grandchildren well! Jamie is my father, Jonty is I believe Jamie’s cousin and Georgina is my auntie, so Jamie’s younger sister. Their mention is awesome and after sending this email I will definitely send the image to him! Signatures too, add so much authenticity. The history part on Tom Boyes is very interesting as well – he must have been extremely revered: what an intriguing connection. Danby seems to have a crazily rich history. 1927 is so far back and I am really invested in history (as you can tell!) and especially the roaring twenties era so hearing that has also been a treat. I am truly in awe.”

She was also thrilled to read the biographical information at the back of the book: “Hearing that he also had a great artistic side was cool, because that’s what I’m headed to do in college this September for two years! It must run in the Falls!”

I felt that, as much as I’d like to keep them, the books should go back to Sophie-Jean, so that the family have a meaningful record of the legacy left by her great-grandfather, so I will post them on to her – once I have finished using them for my own research of course!

Sophie-Jean concludes: “I’m sure this newspaper’s readers will find this hunt extremely interesting…More thanks to you for dedicating such time and effort to finding these again for me. The joy is truly indescribable…I look forward to having them by my side and seeing all the works mentioned first-hand.”

I wonder if any readers have come across Bill Fall or Tom Boyes? Do get in touch if so (see below).

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 8th Aug and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 6th 2025

Falling write into our hands

The books of poems my brother and I found in my dad’s study and library after being contacted by the poet Bill Fall’s (AKA Erimus) great-granddaughter
Yorkshire dialect poet William E Fall, who wrote under the pseudonym ‘Erimus’.

 

A lady called Sophie-Jean Fall has been in touch asking about a Countryman’s Diary column that appeared in March 2007. She says: “The author mentions William Fall / Erimus, the Danby poet. He was my great-grandfather…I cannot find his biography or books online, and this article is the sole trace of his name when I Google it. If you can, please could you try find who the author was or who he contacted to garner William’s poetic works? It would mean the world to me if I could read such books.”

The answer to the first question is easy, of course, because it is my dad Peter Walker (AKA Nicholas Rhea), who wrote the Countryman’s Diary for 41 years from 1976 until 2017. I had not heard of William Fall or Erimus, but having looked up the column, I discovered the following (in my dad’s own words):

“Who was William E Fall, known to everyone as Bill? Under the pen-name of Erimus, William Fall wrote dialect poetry and prose, his dialect being that of the district around Danby in Cleveland. He was born at Easby in the Cleveland Hills and, in retirement, settled in a cottage near Danby Castle.

“A kindly correspondent from Durham has sent me four of his collections published in the late 1970s and early 1980s…To give a flavour of his sense of humour, part of his biography reads: ‘He worked successively as a grocer’s assistant, a farmer’s boy and wielded a pick and a shovel in a quarry until he heard a voice, as if from heaven, saying, ‘William, thou shalt work no more.’ So he joined Middlesbrough Police where he served for the next thirty years.’”

I was determined to find those books, and the next time I visited my mum, embarked on one of my favourite pastimes – ferreting around in my dad’s study for interesting stuff. I had a trusty sidekick in my brother, and we both set about the task with gusto.

We had no idea what the books looked liked, although I had found online references to them, including the names, when they were published and how many pages each had. That told us that they were likely very slim volumes, with no room for the title on the spine, making finding them in dad’s vast collection more tricky. There were five published in total and called ‘Wi’ t’Accent on Yorkshire’ (Feb 1976), ‘Tom Boyes, Deealsman’ (Feb 1977), ‘Queer Fooaks, Tykes!’ (Nov 1977), ‘Hermit and Recluse’ (June 1979) and finally ‘Poetry for t’Peasantry’ (Aug 1981).

To find anything in Dad’s study or library (a large bedroom with floor to ceiling shelves crammed with books), you have to know how his brain worked. Dad arranged his collection in loose categories (mostly unlabelled), and we started our search in his study by locating the section on ‘Yorkshire dialect’. Initially, it failed to bear fruit so we tried other sections, including ‘Biographies’ (seeing as his 2007 column mentioned a biography). Again we failed to find anything.

We then headed upstairs to the library and after scanning the numerous shelves found a section on poetry. Many of the greats nestled there, including Shakespeare, Tennyson, Wordsworth, Browning and Burns. To the far left of one shelf was a collection of pamphlets entitled ‘Transactions of the Yorkshire Dialect Society (YDS)’. They all looked very similar and unpromising, but nevertheless I took the pile of pamphlets and began to flick through.

And what do you know? Hidden right in the middle, barely visible, was a little green book. As soon as my eyes fell on it, my heart sang. It was ‘Queer Fooaks, Tykes!‘. After a little celebratory dance (and knowing there were another three to find), we kept going. A fruitless search in the library followed, but now we knew what one book looked like, we tried again in the study downstairs, and sure enough, hidden among dozens more copies of YDS pamphlets, we found ‘Poetry for t’Peasantry’ and finally, ‘Tom Boyes, Deealsman’. Each book is signed by the author and tucked inside in the last one was an old photo and some intriguing correspondence.

As I write, I have not yet told Sophie-Jean of my discovery, and cannot wait to pass on the good news. I wonder what she will say?

Look out for part two of this story next week to find out!

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Get in touch with me using the ‘Contact’ button on the top right.

This column appeared in the Darlington & Stockton Times on Friday 1st Aug and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 30th July  2025