books – The Countryman's Daughter

Home is where the heart is

I was pleased to see some old customs still persist when I stayed in my home village recently, such as leaving home-grown apples on a doorstep for passers-by to help themselves

My mum still lives in the village where I grew up and although I visit her regularly, I don’t often get the chance to leisurely wander around, to take the time revisit the places and spaces that I used to walk past every day in my childhood.

A couple of weeks ago, I was lucky enough to do that when friends who have recently moved there asked me to house sit for a full week while they went on holiday. It gave me that opportunity of time, time to amble about in a place that is so familiar, and yet parts of which I’ve not visited properly for years.

I don’t know why I still expected to recognise almost everyone I met, or for them to recognise me. Of course they didn’t because, like me, the village has moved on and people have moved in. It’s one of those increasingly rare rural spots that is fortunate to still have a village shop and post office, a doctor’s surgery, two pubs, a café and a primary school. And yet, when I think back to everything that used to be there, so many amenities have vanished – a baker, a butcher, a petrol garage, a school, a grocery store, a chip shop and a quirky habadasher-cum-clothes-cum-shoe shop. It was a unique establishment run by an elderly lady from what was her front room. She sold a bizarre array of merchandise which never seemed to shift, and yet, if you needed a pair of wellies in a hurry, she was your woman.

I still class the village as my home, and myself as a member of its community, having been brought there as a baby in 1967 – nearly 60 years ago (good grief). Dad had been the bobby of the neighbouring village since 1964, but in 1967 was offered a new post from his boss alongside a new mortgage from his bank manager. It meant we could move out of the police house and into our very own cottage with a lovely long garden at the back where fun games were played while fond memories were made.

There are plenty of people who have been residents for as long, or even longer, than my mum. And yet, as you’d expect, there are plenty of ‘newcomers’ who I don’t know and who have no idea who I am nor my connection to the old place. I feel a sense of ownership, and yet a slight pang of indignation at the thought that these residents probably think I am the stranger.

One evening as the sun was setting beneath a lilac sky, I began my 15 minute walk back to my friends’ cottage after having had tea with my mum. I took the opportunity to dawdle, to absorb all the sights and sounds around me. The background music of a village settling down for the evening accompanied me – somebody trying to finish cutting their hedge in the fading light, others chitchatting behind closed doors, and actors’ voices, sound effects and theme tunes drifting through windows amidst the flickering glow of TV screens. The main street was still so familiar, largely unchanged apart from a few more parked cars lining either side. It was relatively traffic free as the evening light faded into darkness and the streetlights came on. As I walked past one of the pubs, I was pleased to see that it was busy with drinkers at the bar and diners in the restaurant. Like many such establishments, these hostelries have not had it easy in recent years, but these are still going, and hopefully will do so for many years to come.

As I pottered on, I felt the village still possessed its essential character, despite the fact that where were once open spaces, new houses now stood, but they were built with golden yellow stone under pinky-red pantile roofs, charming and cozy, as traditional Yorkshire cottages were meant to be.

Most heartwarming of all was to see echoes of customs past; on one doorstep sat a basket of eating apples with a ‘Help yourself’ sign (I did!). There was another selling free range eggs, while one more offered home-grown courgettes and squashes alongside honey & jam, with honesty boxes for you to deposit the small fee.

I felt very much at home.

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 9th Oct and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 7th Oct 2026

Second-hand but not second best

Janice Brabban has been back in touch after she first contacted me looking for consistent advice on the control of the invasive species Himalayan Balsam that had found its way on to her land.

She says: “What a wealth of information your column has produced re. the Himalayan Balsam. I am so pleased I got in touch.”

She was delighted that there were contributions from fishermen and bee-keepers: “As much as I like honey I wouldn’t go for the Balsam type, it would seem unpatriotic!”

She was also very impressed with the advice from Chloe Lawrence, Invasive Species Project Manager at Tees Rivers Trust: “Really good that they have got other groups involved. I think that’s what’s needed and maybe the £3m grant means more publicity for Himalayan Balsam…It was interesting that if plants are removed from site, it is considered controlled waste and needs a licence. I will have to remember that – and how would that tie in with the advice from Darlington Borough Council to put it in a garden skip? But yes – burning on a woodland site, well, you just wouldn’t do it!… Some of the verges round here now seem to have been cut right back to hedge, so that should help. Thanks again for mentioning HB in your column!”

Mick Garratt also contacted me to share his experiences. “Last winter, the Tees Rivers Trust was actively seeking local volunteers to help survey and remove Himalayan Balsam along the River Leven. Unfortunately, I was away when the training was scheduled, and the opportunities didn’t happen after I returned…However, I did record sightings on the INNS Mapper app, as they had requested (INNS = invasive non-native species).

“I also know of a property-owner in Yarm along the riverbank who has chosen not to remove the plant because they think it looks pretty!”

That is one of the drawbacks. Its prettiness means people do not appreciate the damage it is doing to our riverbanks and the flora and fauna that surrounds them. They may also be mistaking them for similar-looking more welcome plants, such as Rosebay Willowherb and Purple Loosetrife, which have similar leaves and flowers.

On another note, I’m delighted when people find my old columns which trigger memories prompting them to get in touch. Regular reader Les Myers wrote me a message after reading some of my archive pieces (which can be found at www.countrymansdaughter.com). He came across one from February 2018, published following the death of well-known Daleswoman Hannah Hauxwell.

Les wrote: “I met Hannah Hauxwell when she must have been near the end of her life. She lived in a tiny cottage in Cotherstone next to the Red Lion pub. I was a meter reader.”

One day, Les had gone inside her house to take her readings. “She was a person who never threw anything away if she thought it would come in useful. She must have had 100 Utterly Butterly tubs piled up, as well of lots of other junk. She wore a pair of trousers with at least six patches on them.”

Hannah was from that ‘Make Do and Mend’ generation where lack of money and scarcity of materials, alongside a very stoic attitude, meant that rather than throw anything away, you fixed things that were broken, and darned or patched worn out clothes. In her day, these skills were essential for survival and so everyone learned them, bar of course the most wealthy who could afford to employ help.

The world is recognising the value of second-hand clothes, and it is now a badge of honour to declare your outfit is made up of charity shop finds. I’m due to attend a wedding in Spain soon and need several outfits. With the cost of the flights and hotel, I can’t justify spending even more money on new clothes. Therefore I’ve been glued to Vinted (the online platform that allows people to buy and sell unwanted clothing). I’ve got some fantastic bargains, unworn items at a fraction of the cost of new.

The downside is that it is addictive, and I am am not sure I have actually saved any money, for hanging on the back of my bedroom door now are several ‘new to me’ dresses that don’t even fit.

I will have to sell them on Vinted!

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 2nd Oct and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 30th September 2026

Journeys through history

Archibald Leary’s medical record showing he was under weight at 8st 10lb with a temperature of 101F(38C). Picture courtesy of Benenden Hospital

Archibald Leary’s medical record showing the unusual word ‘asthenic’ which means frail and exhausted and was associated with people suffering from tuberculosis. Picture courtesy of Benenden Hospital

Richard Simpson has been back in touch with an update on his grandfather’s cousin, Archibald Leary, who was a post office worker in Wigan in the 1920s. He contracted tuberculosis (TB) and died in Benenden Sanatorium on 30th December 1930. The sanatorium was established in 1905 after postal workers were falling ill with TB but could not afford to take time off for treatment, and thus continued to infect their colleagues.

Richard had asked me if I was aware of any records of admissions to the sanatorium and I passed on some ideas as to where he could go.

The leads came up trumps, as Richard explains: “I contacted Benenden and they very kindly sent me a copy of his medical records which I have attached.

“As a retired GP they made interesting reading and it was clear that he was very poorly on admission. Good to know, however, that for himself and his family he received such good care and attention at the end of his life.”

It was quite remarkable that Benenden were able to lay their hands on the handwritten notes relating to Archibald so quickly, bearing in mind they would have been almost 100 years old, and no doubt just one record among thousands.

I noticed the word ‘asthenic’ was used in Archibald’s medical notes, and I was unfamiliar with it, and asked Richard to explain what it meant.

“It could have been a description of his physical state; i.e. frail and narrow chested, or more likely related to him suffering from asthenia which was a common term used in relation to patients with advanced TB indicating the general overwhelming tiredness and frailty, along with weight loss which was characteristic of the condition.

“Looking at his weight of 8st 10lbs, even without knowing his height, he was clearly significantly underweight and his temperature of 101 degrees Fahrenheit (which would be 38 degrees Celsius) would indicate that his TB was very active (hence TB stage 3).”

“In terms of his records, I suspect this is just a summary and that considering he was in the sanatorium for 90 days, it was highly likely that he had a separate set of day to day notes. Certainly nowadays they would be much more comprehensive! I am still amazed as to how quickly he was buried up in Wigan only a few days after his death and over a new year holiday. Do you know whether the Post Office Society would have been involved in arranging this?”

I couldn’t answer that question, but they may well have done so.

Family history research is booming, with websites like Ancestry and MyHeritage making it so much easier to trace relatives. I have dabbled myself occasionally, but usually end up down a rabbit hole being diverted from my original quest. I think you need endless patience and great detective skills to be able to build a comprehensive (and accurate) family tree.

On another note, reader Les Myers got in touch after reading about our family reunion with my dad’s old Mark 2 Jaguar at the Heartbeat Vehicle Rally in June: “It reminded me of the day my two cousins and I went from Middlesborough to Torquay loaded with camping gear. I’m now 79 and we were 15 (myself), 16 and 17. It was the days before motorways and in our turquoise Morris Minor it took us 13 hours to arrive!”

Les adds: “I will never forget that car and still remember the reg number – SPO 79. We camped on a sloping farmer’s field in Paignton. Sadly it poured down all week and the night before we were due to return we awakened to the pouring rain running through the tent. We had no groundsheets then but we all had camp beds (recently invented!). We looked at each other and said “Let’s b****r off home!” So in the middle of the night, we loaded the car and returned home safely.”

I’m relieved to hear Les and his cousins returned home without incident following his soggy adventure, and it’s clear that the car holds a special place in his heart, despite his story occurring more than 60 years ago.

Do you have any tales about vehicles that hold special memories for you? Do get in touch in the usual ways.

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 4th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 2nd September 2026

Mutual response to TB epidemic

The 1910 postcard sent to his wife Lolly from Benenden Sanatorium patient Gilbert showing snow on the floor and on his bed thanks to the windows in his room being left wide open, no matter what the weather. It was the prescribed treatment for TB in the days before antibiotics became widely available. Picture from the Benenden Health archives.

I was at home chatting to my mum recently, and she was reminiscing about days gone by.

One story she mentioned was very sad indeed. A local family’s 10-year-old son had fallen over while playing and he suffered a nasty graze due to the rough road surface. He developed an infection and died. Mum is not sure exactly when it was, but thinks sometime in the 1930s when antibiotics were not readily available.

It’s startling to think that something as everyday as a child falling over could lead to a family losing their child. Now, if a wound becomes infected, your doctor will prescribe you antibiotics which should quickly clear it up. Today’s parents rarely need to worry if their child has a minor mishap in the playground.

Although some forms of antibiotic were discovered earlier, it was Alexander Fleming’s discovery of penicillin in 1928 that led to a revolution in healthcare. Antibiotic use really took off in the 1940s after chemists Ernst Chain and Howard Florey developed a way to purify penicillin enabling it to be mass produced.

Initially it was strictly rationed and during World War II was restricted to the military, but once the war was over, it became available to the general public via their local doctors. However, it would still have only been available to those who could afford to buy it. Not until the introduction of the National Health Service in 1948 was the whole population able to benefit.

In the early 2000s, I was commissioned to write the history of the Benenden Healthcare Society, a mutual health organisation originally established to combat high rates of deaths from Pulmonary Tuberculosis among postal workers. My research on that book taught me the devastating consequences TB had on the service and its employees.

In the late 1800s, Post Office clerk Charles Garland was appalled at the plight of his many colleagues who were contracting and dying from tuberculosis. In 1900, about 300,000 people nationally were suffering, but only 22,000 a year could be treated. The dusty, cramped offices in which sorting clerks and telegraphists worked were ideal conditions for the airborne disease to flourish. These employees earned just a few pounds a week and could not afford to pay for healthcare. Even if a worker did take time off for treatment, it meant no income for their family, so there was enormous pressure for them to return to their jobs, which they often did before they were fully cured. This meant they would continue to infect co-workers, and would likely die from the disease anyway.

Garland suggested a ‘mutual’ way of helping his colleagues. If he and the thousands of his fellow Post Office employees each contributed a small amount of their wages into a fund, they could raise enough money to help those who contracted TB.

His idea took off, and his new society was able to fund the building of a sanatorium near the village of Benenden in Kent which welcomed its first Post Office patients in March 1907. It was long before an effective cure for TB was found, so the main treatment was rest, fresh air and hope. Patients would be wheeled outside in their beds every morning, no matter how cold it was, and doors and windows remained open day and night. In 1910, one long suffering patient wrote a postcard to his wife: ‘Dear Lolly. This picture shows the result of the snow storm I told you about some time back. I did not sleep so cold as you might think it was, colder last night than I have ever known it to be here. With fondest love from Gilbert.’

Receiving treatment at the sanatorium meant employees did not return to work until they were fully cured, and thus infection rates reduced. However it was not until the early 1950s that fewer patients meant empty beds and the effectiveness of antibiotics on TB were finally being felt. The Society refocussed its core services away from TB and towards things like cancer and diagnostic consultations.

TB is still around today, although much less prevalent in the UK. It used to be known as the ‘artists’ disease’ thanks to fact that several writers, painters and composers succumbed to it, most notably Emily and Anne Bronte, Franz Kafka, Chopin, Modigliani and George Orwell.

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 June 2026

The Grassington Murder explained by one who was there

Dr Petty’s body was dumped in the River Wharf

The book, The Grassington Murder by Mark Bridgeman, has arrived! Tom Lee was executed in 1768 for the killing of Dr Richard Petty after he had already been tried in 1766, but acquitted for lack of evidence. It includes the deposition of John Burnup, Lee’s manservant, whose testimony led to the conviction two years after the murder itself.

First, I must clear up a little confusion. Last time I mentioned John Burnup, one newspaper account gave a different name, that of John Bowness. In fact, Bowness and Burnup were two different people, both involved in the dastardly plot. Further confusion arises thanks to varying spellings of people’s surnames. ‘Burnup’ is sometimes spelled ‘Burnap’ and ‘Bowness’ is also spelled ‘Bownass’ and ‘Bownas’.

As Bridgeman explains, Burnup’s testimony is published in the 28th July 1768 edition of the Stamford Mercury. It explains that Burnup was Tom Lee’s servant, but left his employment a couple of months after Petty was killed, going into service in Durham. It’s the closest we are ever likely to get to a contemporaneous version of what took place on that fateful night in April 1766:

‘On that day two years on which Mr. Petty was murdered he mentioned it to his then Master, who took him before a Justice of the Peace, to whom he related the particulars of the murder, whereupon Lee was committed a second time’.

There follows a fairly graphic and fascinating description of what happened, which reveals Lee did not act alone, and that his wife Jane was also involved. Here you go:

‘John Burnap deposed that Thomas Lee kept a public House at Grassington, and used to work in the Lead Mines; that he, Burnap, lived as a servant with him; that on Easter Eve, 1766, his Master, John Hully, John Bownas, and himself were in company at his said Master’s house; that they discoursed about Horse stealing and scarcity of Money; that Bowness said it was no crime to murder somebody and then take his money; that Lee said there would be money enough stirring at Kettlewell Cockings on the Tuesday following…on the morning they went to the Cockings, where Lee got into company with Mr. Petty, and it was concerted among them that Hully and Burnap…should place themselves at Grass Wood Gate, and bar it with a large Stone, to prevent any person passing that way; that Lee and Bownas were to make a noise to apprise Hully and Burnap of their approach; accordingly about Eight at night…Lee as had been concerted, quarrelled with Petty, or at least pretended so to do, and when he came near the Gate gave him a blow on the head with the thick of his Whip; that Hully thereupon came and pulled him off his horse, and held him by the throat till he was dead; that he, Burnap, rifled his pockets, and took thereout three Guineas and two half Guineas, wrapt in an Advertisement for Cockings; that they then removed the body, and laid it among some Reeds at Grass Wood; after that they removed the body three different times, and lastly, about five Weeks after the murder, threw it into the River, and dropped his Gloves by the water side, in order to make it be believed he was drowned; that Lee’s wife, Bownas and Hully always assisted in removing the body; and that he, Burnap, was threatened by Hully and Bownas, when Lee was first committed to the Castle, to be served in the same manner that Petty had been, if ever they said anything about it…Lee behaved in the most obdurate manner, denying the crime for which he suffered to his last moment. He is to be hung in Chains near the place where the murder was committed.’

Despite the testimony suggesting that it was Hully who actually killed Petty, both he and Bownas were acquitted at a later trial. For giving evidence, John Burnup was ‘discharged by proclamation’ and allowed to walk free. Lee’s wife Jane was never penalised for her part in the crime.

York Castle records explain that the murderer was to be ‘hung in chains at Grassington Gate’, i.e. displayed in a gibbet hung near the site of the murder, not only as as a deterrent to others, but also to heap posthumous shame upon Tom Lee.

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 15th May and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 13th May 2026

A Petty Crime?

When I sat down today, I’d planned to do more research on the case of the Grassington Murderer Tom Lee, then write my column.

Well, four hours later, I’d still not typed a word, yet had written almost 12 pages of notes! I’d fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole, getting lost in the British Newspaper Archives (BNA), and reading as much was immediately available in an online excerpt from the most definitive recent account of the case (The Grassington Murder by Mark Bridgeman). I then had a long convoluted discussion with ChatGPT, and finally ended up ferreting around the National Archives where they hold witness depositions from the time. Mr Bridgeman features one such deposition in his book. I have ordered a copy which has yet to arrive.

Because my deadline is looming, I cannot wait, so in the meantime, I will outline the sorry tale, with thanks in particular to Mr Bridgeman, and a flamboyant account from 21st July 1876 from the Todmorden and Hebden Bridge Advertiser. Although the account is detailed, it was written more than 100 years after the murder, so is it reliable?

My impression from talking to people on the ground is that they ‘sort of’ know the story, but that it has reached almost mythical status. It will have been embellished and exaggerated with each retelling, and yet at its heart is an actual murder and father who was hanged for it.

It may surprise you to know that in 1766, 35-year-old Tom Lee was a well established businessman in Grassington while Richard Petty was the local doctor aged in his 30s. On the surface, Lee was respectable, married to Jane and father to three children. By the mid-1750s he was running the Blue Anchor Inn, and employed a manservant named John Burnup (also called ‘Bowness’ in the Todmorden Advertiser version). It was Burnup who would be the witness to come forward with the crucial evidence that led to Lee’s demise.

Lee had dodgy reputation though, and seemed to have more money than he could have earned from his regular business. It is also true that highway robberies and property break-ins surged once Lee had landed in the village. There was plenty of money flying about, thanks to the increase in mining in the area, and workers being paid in cash that was transported on horseback by a brave bank couriers.

Lee’s favourite pastimes were drinking and gambling at cock fights, and it is these that brought him into the path of Dr Petty who also enjoyed the cock fighting scene.

Lee’s downfall began when he tried to rob a bank courier on the road to Grassington. The courier was carrying a pistol and shot Lee in the leg. Badly injured, he fled, and the legend suggests he hid in the cave I mentioned when I first wrote about this story a few weeks ago. The severity of his injury meant that he needed help, so he turned to Dr Petty. Although Petty patched him up, he knew how it had occurred, but kept quiet – for the time being.

But when he had too much to drink, he would drop hints as to his secret, holding it over Lee’s head. At the time, such crimes incurred the death penalty, and Lee feared that the doctor’s loose lips would send him to the gallows.

After one drunken evening, the pair rode towards home, but only one made it back. Petty’s body was found later in Grass Wood, and although Lee was the main suspect, no-one had seen him do the deed. He was therefore acquitted at his first trial, but two years later his manservant John Burnup, came forward with new evidence. And it is that evidence that I am awaiting to read in Bridgeman’s book.

In the 1876 account, Lee is described as: ‘diabolical’, ‘avaricious’, ‘wicked’ and ‘revengeful’, while Dr Petty is ‘noted for his talents and his benevolence, and was held in great respect throughout the whole of Upper Wharfedale’.

But real life is never that black and white, is it? Both men were, it seems, avid gamblers and drinkers, and according to the same account, Petty taunted Lee about the secret he held, which belies his ‘benevolence’. I’m not saying Tom Lee was a saint, but there may be more to it that simple wickedness.

What do you think?

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 May and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 6th May 2026

Slave to history

The baffling inscription on Betty Stiven’s grave on the island of Tobago in the Caribbean, spotted by reader Peter Sotheran. Do you know what the last sentence means?

Another family connected to Hamer Inn has been in touch with me following previous columns about Joseph Ford and his descendants, who include readers and cousins, David and Ian Ford.

In one of my columns I mentioned the Eddon family. James and Elizabeth Eddon took over running the inn from the Ford family, and Annie Eddon, later Turnbull, was born at Hamer in 1906. Annie was the second youngest of 11 children.

I previously mentioned a column written in the 1990s in which Annie remembered: “On the Glaisdale side of the house is a beck (Bluewath) and I can remember going down to the beck with my mother to wash clothes. We took a big cauldron and lit a fire under it to boil the water and clothes.

“We had a pump in the pub yard but in summer it ran dry and we had to carry water from the beck…One of the outbuildings was used by my father for making besoms from heather, and on Mondays, Mother would ride a pony to Pickering market to try to sell them.”

It was Annie’s sister, Lily Boddy, who took over from her father in 1914, and you might recall a fabulous photo I shared a few weeks ago showing Lily next to the well with (I presume) her mum Elizabeth Eddon bending over it, bottom in the air!

Following that, I have been contacted by Susan Ellis who wrote: “Further to your piece…my mum has asked me to contact you. My mum is Pauline Elizabeth Ellis (nee Turnbull) one of 6 children, all still alive, and who originate from Wrelton.

“My mum’s grandma and grandad are James and Elizabeth Eddon. One of their daughters, Annie, is my mum’s mum and Annie had some time growing up at Hamer House.

“We would be very interested in any photos you might let us look at, along with any more information.”

I replied to Susan, and sent her some articles and links to the columns about Hamer where I featured photos of the property before it became derelict (which you can find on www.countrymansdaughter.com). Type ‘Hamer’ in the search box and they should come up.

A few days later, Susan wrote to me again: “Thank you Sarah. I’ve just been reading everything out to Mam. It is all fascinating isn’t it? What hardy folk they all were! Mam and I will have a chat and see if any stories surface that can be shared.”

Now to a different, yet equally interesting, query which another reader has brought to my attention, and upon which I am hoping you might be able to shed some light.

Peter Sotheran got in touch because in the past I have written columns discussing the historical resting places of various people. I’ll let Peter explain:

“Many thanks for your columns – always unearthing something fascinating! A while ago, I think you wrote about various gravestones and that stirred in me a memory of a mysterious gravestone that I discovered whilst on holiday on the Caribbean island of Tobago.

“Plymouth on the north-west coast of Tobago is a small coastal community with a population approaching 10,000 residents. English settlers arrived there 400 years ago, hence the prevalence of British place names; Scarborough, Roxborough and Speyside are principal towns on the island.

“One of the island’s greatest curiosities is the inscription on the grave of a local lady, Betty Stiven. After recording the date of her death, the gravestone carries the following message:

‘She was a mother without knowing it and a wife without letting her husband know it, except by her kind indulgences to him.‘

“I wondered if your ever-erudite readers can suggest an explanation?”

I read the inscription (which you can see above) and came up with the conclusion that because her child is interred with her, she died in childbirth, in which case, she would not have experienced motherhood at the age of 23.

I find the last part of the sentence is quite baffling. Perhaps she died soon after getting married? Or was she the unmarried mistress to a plantation slave master? The inscription is quite loving, though, so perhaps it was a genuine marriage? Peter thinks the size and style of her gravestone suggests she was more likely part of the white elite rather than the poorer indigenous community, but is not certain.

I’d love to hear what you think!

This column appeared in the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on 15th and the Darlington and Stockton Times on 17th April 2026

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