Tag: family

A window into Dad’s soul

The opening of the Heartbeat Experience at the World of James Herriot taken 29/08/26.
L-R Neil Jones, Kate, Pawlett & Ian Ashton (all from the WOJH), actor David Lonsdale who played David Stockwell in Heartbeat, Mum, myself, my sister  Janet, brother, plus my sons Joseph and Oliver. Picture by PMH Images.
L-R: My mum Rhoda, my brother Andrew, my sister Janet and myself in the recreation of my dad’s study at the World of James Herriot in Thirsk.

 

What a weekend I had over the August bank holiday! As I revealed a few weeks ago, the World of James Herriot offered to recreate my dad’s study in a brand-new Heartbeat-themed attraction at their museum in Kirkgate, Thirsk, with the ‘big reveal’ on Saturday 29th August.

I’d been brooding for a few years over what to do with the place where my dad spent so many years creating stories and plotting out books and columns. So when the offer came through, it was the lifting of a substantial emotional burden.

Packing up the study and transporting it to Thirsk has been hard work. We had to photograph and itemise everything we sent and hand it over in such a way that it made sense to those unpacking at the other end to enable them to rebuild it as accurately as possible. And with 40+ years of dust disturbed when we removed all those books, we sneezed a LOT!

There were emotional wobbles along the way, as you might expect when you see something you treasure so much being systematically taken apart and removed. We had to trust that the museum was going to take good care of it and do their utmost to recreate it. If it didn’t have the same look and feel that we loved and knew so well, then we would have questioned whether it had all been worth it.

I need to give credit to those tasked with that burdensome job – Ian Ashton, Managing Director, and his two fellow directors Kate Pawlett and Neil Jones, who were are at pains to ensure they did their best within the limitations of a room of a slightly different in shape and size. The worry of not getting it right was etched on their faces whenever we met them.

But in the end, it was such a relief for all of us when the final recreation absolutely embodied the spirit of my dad’s special place.

It’s not just about the study though, because alongside that, they have also created a whole Heartbeat-themed section, including a life-sized replica of Scripps garage doors, two genuine motorbikes from the TV show and a huge board of captioned photos of the main characters from the 18 series (thanks to Heartbeat Vehicle Rally stalwarts Jason Bullard and Lee Jones). Not only that, but a fresh-faced bobby can be seen about to enter the ‘police house’ wearing my dad’s very own North Yorkshire Constabulary-issue woollen cape and helmet.

There was one person whose approval was paramount – my mum’s. She was understandably hesitant about letting us take Dad’s things away, things that were personal and treasured, things she and he had collected together. How would she feel about the empty space left behind?

But when she saw it for herself for the first time, her fears melted away. She was amazed at how accurately her husband’s study had been recreated, almost exactly as it was. The old carpet was there, complete with the original holes caused by the wheels of his chair, and Mum’s home-made flowery curtains framed the two ‘windows’ that magically looked out onto our very own garden and drive. A dim glow shone from a familiar glass lampshade on to Dad’s collection of Heartbeat-themed fridge magnets that dotted the front of his grey filing cabinets, while rows of Heartbeat die-cast toy vehicles looked down from the bookshelves, just as they had at home. The walls were painted the same green, and decorated with the same items he had hung up – two framed TV Times magazine covers featuring Heartbeat cast members, some Guinness advertising plaques, an Aidensfield village sign, and a framed picture of his mother as a young woman. Most of the surfaces were scattered with collectibles, trinkets, books, mugs, pens and all sorts of clutter, just as Dad had left them.

Before, Mum had questioned why anyone would want to take the tatty carpet, her old curtains, or the dusty lampshade. But once she saw everything placed carefully where it should be, it all made sense. Dad’s study has found its permanent home for future generations to enjoy.

Whether you’re a fan of the show, a fan of the writer, or simply a fan of nostalgia, do go and have a look and tell me how you feel when you peer through the window into Dad’s study.

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 11th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 9th September 2026

The secret is out!

Dad at work in his study which is being recreated at the World of James Herriot in Thirsk. It will be opened by Heartbeat star David Lonsdale on Saturday 29th August at 1pm. You are all invited.

I’ve been harbouring a secret for a while now but the time has come to share it…

My dad’s study has been saved!

I’ve written in the past about my concerns as to what is going to happen to it when we have to sell the family home. It’s been a weighty burden because it is tied so closely to Dad and his career. What were we to do with all the stuff that was so important to him?

Dad’s study is THE place where I feel closest to him, THE place where I can still feel his presence, the hub of his creativity. It’s a visual representation of what was going on in his head and how he organised his many ideas and resulting stories. For 35 years he toiled in that small room, producing book after book, column after column, article after article. The shelves are packed with reference books on all manner of topic, the most-important and most-used of them on the shelf just in front of where he sat. There are also filing cabinets stuffed full of 60 years-worth of papers and cuttings he’d collected, stored in an order that made sense to him. He created a card index that sat on top of the cabinets, without which it would be impossible for the rest of us to find anything. Beneath his chair, a hole is worn in the carpet from all his wheeling backwards and forwards to reach for things off the shelves or out of the cabinets.

The walls tell a story themselves, adorned as they are with Heartbeat-related knicknacks, such as an ‘Aidensfield’ village sign, a Claude Jeremiah Greengrass teddy bear, a framed copy of the cover of TV Times magazine from 23rd – 29th June 2007 featuring barmaid Gina Ward and PC Phil Bellamy’s much anticipated wedding. Nestled among the Heartbeat mementoes are more personal items, such as a framed photo his mother, my Nana Walker, taken when she was young woman, while elsewhere are a wooden rosary and a postcard of Pope John Paul II, a reflection of Dad’s Catholic faith. One of his proudest moments was when, as Press Officer for North Yorkshire Police, he was tasked with handling the media aspect of the Pope’s 1982 visit to York and he was able to attend the huge open-air mass held on the city’s Knavesmire.

I’m sure you can imagine how the prospect of it vanishing forever was simply too much to bear. We approached a few places a while back, but were disappointed when no-one was willing or able to take it.

A few months ago, though, I got a phone call from Ian Ashton, the Managing Director of the World of Jame Herriot in Thirsk. We had talked to him a couple of years ago, but at the time, the museum was not in a position to be able to help. However, times have changed!

They are creating a whole new Heartbeat-themed attraction within the museum, and at the centre is a recreation of my dad’s study. Not many people know that Alf Wight (James Herriot) was our local vet and even treated our cat! These two men were at the same time writing humorous tales about the quirky characters of North Yorkshire, both of which would be turned in to hugely successful TV shows. Thanks to them we now have the tourism honey-pots of Herriot Country and Heartbeat Country. What a lucky county we are!

I have (with some able helpers) spent the past couple of weekends packing up boxes while taking photos as I go so that the study can be recreated as accurately as possible. Heartbeat favourite David Lonsdale, who played loveable David Stockwell in the TV show, will unveil the study at 1pm on Saturday 29th August – and you are all invited! Just Google ‘World of James Herriot’ to find it.

Dad was such a humble man that he would have been bewildered by all the fuss.

But if you are the reason behind a TV phenomenon that attracted millions of viewers, that still has millions of fans around the world 16 years after it ended, and who in a large part is responsible for a tourism boom in Goathland and the North York Moors, then the least you deserve is a bit of fuss.

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 21st and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 19th August  2026

What can’t you live without?

I can’t live without my ear pods. They are the reason I am able to maintain a relatively clean house.

Following my column a couple of weeks ago about personal treasures that are worth more to us than money, Lucien Smith got back in touch to say: “Oh wow, Sarah! My mother would be thrilled not only how much I cherish her painting, but that it made the cover of pic of you post! Thank you.”

If you remember, Lucien treasured a painting done by his late mother when she was only 22 and called it his ‘save from a burning building’ item. I used a picture of the painting in my column, and then also on a social media post.

It led me to ask what would be your ‘save from a burning building’ item, and self-confessed maximalist Clare Proctor responded: “That is an impossible question! I would want to save my photos, my African treasures from my childhood, my tapestries that I have made over the last 40 years, the copy of Van Gogh’s sunflowers that my dad did, and Howard’s dad’s MBE….no hope of choosing one item!”

She added: “I love Lucien’s mum’s painting. We did that technique at school. We had to take a still life item and interpret it as something else. I chose the jaw bone of a cow and painted a washing line full of clothes! I think it’s in the attic…better add that to my rescue list.”

I’m not sure Clare would make it out of a burning building carrying that lot!

Janet Pearce is slightly more restrained and added: “My late husband’s love letters to me, journals, birthday cards and other jottings of his. They are all together…And my Dachshund!”

Once you start to think about it, your rescue list can get longer and longer. At least Hendrix, Janet’s beloved little dog, made it on to hers!

Sarah Mason agrees with Clare when it comes to pictures, but adds a couple of other items: “The photos and DVDs of my children. And Mum’s jewellery. Oh, and Mum!”

I’m not sure what Sarah’s mum would think about her order of priorities. I still have many photos kept in physical albums and would hate to lose them and the memories they represent. I am of that crossover generation where the first years of my children’s lives are all documented by physical photos, but then, come the advent of tablets and smartphones, I gradually switched to digital pictures only. I diligently printed them and put them into albums up until 2012 and then that’s where the albums stop. I remember feeling guilty at the time that I was letting the pictures mount up, and pledged that I would one day get them printed out. But the albums I had bought in readiness for that task still remain empty nearly 15 years later. Weirdly, I still haven’t got rid of them, despite knowing that it is unlikely they will ever get filled now. What can you do with empty photo albums? I’d love to hear your suggestions.

This subject also led me to wonder if there is anything you use on a daily basis that you didn’t realise you needed until it was invented (internet, computers, smartphones and tablets etc excepted). Clare’s answer to that is as follows: “I’m thrilled with my birthday present from my daughter – an electric throw to wrap around my cold tootsies in the winter.” Here’s another question – can we can rule out foot spas, spiralizers, and the Sinclair C5 as being useful inventions?

My ‘can’t live without’ is my ear pods – small wireless earphones that slot comfortably into the ear and connect via the Bluetooth to my iPad. The reason I can’t live without them is that I hate cleaning; it may be necessary but why does it have to be soooo boring? With these little techy miracles, I can put on a true crime podcast and my mind is magically transported away from the tedium. Because there are no wires, and I am not physically connected to my device, I can wander all over the house and never miss the plot twist of a gripping story. I can still hear it even when I put the vacuum cleaner on, so with no need to crank up the volume, neighbourly harmony is maintained.

Tell me then, what are your ‘burning building’ or ‘can’t live without’ items?

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 14th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 12th August  2026

What would you save?

The painting Lucien Smith’s mother Margaret created in 1952 when she was 22 and called ‘Quirky Birds’. “It’s my ‘run back into a burning building’ item,” says Lucien. What would you save from a burning building?

Following my column about the reunion I had with my dad’s Jaguar, it prompted me to ponder how it is that physical things can mean so much to us.

Reader Lucien Smith got in touch because he has similar feelings about a painting created by his late mother Margaret. I had wondered if anyone still owned an object to which they had an unusually strong attachment.

“Yes I do. This painting by my mum, which she created in 1952 when she was 22. ‘Quirky Birds’ she called it and her teacher at college used a technique where they drew shapes on the canvas, then found the picture within. It’s my ‘run back into a burning building’ item.”

It is a wonderful memento of Lucien’s mother, who died in 2024. Its value to others may be negligible, but to Lucien it is priceless.

Former teacher Lynette Atkinson also got in touch after reading my Jaguar column and said: “What a fabulous story. No wonder it made you emotional. I have kept many items that were made by children I taught and they are treasures to me. A pine cone, a Christmas angel, a trinket box, a bracelet, a painted plate and many more.”

Gurli Smith, who lives in Denmark, contacted me about a different topic: “Reading your column this past Monday (A cheep of faith) made me think of something that happened a few years ago.

“I was sitting in my favourite armchair reading when I heard a loud bang. Something had hit the windowpane and left a big mark on it. I ran outside and saw a young kestrel lying on the ground. I thought it was dead and called my brother.

“By the time he arrived, the kestrel was able to hop around a bit (it had just passed out from the ‘encounter’ with the window!). However, we were afraid that it had broken a wing, so my brother placed it in a safe spot, and a few hours later it was ready to fly again.”

Gurli recalled a second memory prompted by reading my piece about tuberculosis a few weeks back. Her mother had told her this story many years ago.

“In the 1940s Mum trained as a nurse at a small hospital. It was before penicillin and if patients came to the hospital with pneumonia, it meant death for them.

“The specific story was about a young woman (a wife and mother) with pneumonia, and doctors and nurses were sure that she would die. But at a hospital in Aarhus they had penicillin which was driven by ambulance up to my mum’s hospital, and the life of the young woman was saved.

“My mum had tears in her eyes when she told the story and said that the use of penicillin was the greatest thing she had experienced as a nurse.”

We can’t imagine life without antibiotics today, and I have no doubt that they saved the life of my son when he had life-threatening sepsis at the age of three.

It makes me wonder what of life’s inventions that have appeared in your lifetime could you not live without today? Of course there are the obvious things, like the Internet, mobile phones, tablets and the like, but is there anything else you use on a daily basis that you didn’t realise you needed until it was invented?

I have a few personal treasures that will mean nothing to anyone else, but the absolute world to me. I will never forget the moment when I was in my dad’s study not long after he had died. It was the place I would go to feel close to him and on his desk was an A4 diary in which he used to plan out his time for the weeks and months ahead.

I flicked through a few pages and there, written in his distinctive hand, were the words ‘Out for dinner for Sarah’s birthday.’ My heart broke all over again when it dawned on me that he had looked forward to the occasion with no idea he would no longer be alive to enjoy it. Of course, I will never be able to throw that diary away now.

So what is your ‘run back into a burning back into a burning building’ item?

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 31st and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 29th July 2026

The heart of the matter

 

London’s Burning actor Sean Blowers presents a cheque for £600 to Volunteer On-Call Crew Manager Jack Atkinson from Goathland Volunteer Fire Station. Jack and his colleagues were part of the team who tackled the worst fire in North York Moors history last year, centred around Langdale Forest. Picture by Lee Jones.

I am still basking in the glow of another wonderful weekend in Goathland at the annual Heartbeat Vehicle Rally. We were blessed again with lovely weather and we estimate that there were around 6,000 visitors over the two days. Of course, if you read last week’s column, you will already know that my family were reunited with my dad’s old Mark 2 Jaguar, which was an absolute treat.

What I didn’t mention was that as I approached the car for the first time, there was a chap chatting with Richard James, the current owner and the man responsible for the amazing restoration. As the stranger saw me approach, he turned and introduced himself as Keith, saying: “I drove Peter Walker’s daughter Sarah to her wedding in that car!”

So I replied: “I am Sarah!” You should have seen the look on his face! He hadn’t recognised me – which I put down to the fact I was wearing a hat and sunglasses, rather that the 30+ years of aging that have taken place since! Keith was the mechanic who restored it in 1994 and revealed that he was rather stressed in that final week. But he pulled it out of the bag in time, and was thrilled to be my bridal chauffeur.

Considering how many people were gathered in once place, the rally ran very smoothly, with dozens of fans queuing patiently for ages to see the stars and the stars in turn patiently signing hundreds of autographs and posing for hundreds of pictures. This year we had four actors: David Lonsdale, who played bumbling David Stockwell, Vanessa Hehir who played mechanic Rosie Cartright, Ryan Early, who played PC Tom Nicholson and Sean Blowers, who made two memorable guest appearances and was also known for playing John Hallam in London’s Burning, an ITV series about the fire service.

Sean’s appearance was especially fitting because this year, we were delighted that he was able to hand a £600 cheque to Goathland Volunteer Fire Station, while another £600 went to the village primary school.

I was also thrilled to hear from Elsie Smith, trustee of Goathland Village Hall, who sent me a lovely message after the event having seen my family’s emotional reunion with the Jaguar. She reported that the hall did a roaring trade in teas, coffees and cakes, and so benefitted from a nice little windfall too!

Of course, there are drawbacks to hosting such a popular occasion and as ever some selfish drivers were too tight to pay the modest fee for parking (between £2 and £4.50 for a full day). In total there were four separate car parks available with bags of room, and yet a frustrating minority insisted on plonking their cars on the beautiful verges that are such an iconic part of our moorland setting. Despite advance posts on social media showing where to park, plus signage, marshalls and ‘Keep Off’ signs on the day, some people were just too ignorant to pay heed, showing no respect for the historic grazing land nor to the residents who call Goathland home.

When I stand back and look at the event, I do wonder what my dad would think of it all. I’m pretty sure he would be amazed that 16 years after the series came to an end, the fans are still loyal and passionate enough to make the effort to travel all the way to Goathland. One lady I spoke to had come all the way from Boston, USA! She loves Heartbeat, and made the trip for the first time last year. Because she enjoyed it so much, she decided to come back again.

There was one incident that shocked me though. A car went past with the passenger casually hanging her arm out of the window. In her hand was a lit cigarette.

It was one of the most thoughtless and stupidest things I saw all weekend. The moors are tinder dry, and one spark from a cigarette could lead to catastrophe.

If only those fire fighters at Goathland Fire Station – who last year participated in the exhausting battle to control the most devastating blaze in the history of the North York Moors in Langdale Forest and Fylingdales Moors – had had a polite chat with her.

I wonder what they would have said?

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 17th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 15th July 2026

Rallying myself for a special reunion

L-R Me with my niece Eleanor and her baby, Annabelle, my son Joey, my sister Janet  and my mum Rhoda reunited with my dad’s beautiful Mark 2 Jaguar at the Heartbeat Vehicle Rally in Goathland


I’m just home from a very special weekend. We were finally reunited with my dad’s beloved Mark 2 Jaguar.

 

Dad had always dreamed of owning a Mark 2, and bought one in the early 1970s. However, it failed its MOT in 1979 and languished in the garage for the next 15 years until, following the success of Heartbeat, he was able to get it fixed in time for my wedding in 1994.

As a family, we loved that car, and it stayed with us for more than 40 years until Dad’s death in 2017. We made the heartbreaking decision to sell it then because we feared we could not give it the kind of care it deserved. We thought we’d never see it again.

But, like a knight in shining armour, Jaguar fan Richard James came to the rescue. He’d found the car about a year ago and it had been reduced to a rusty old heap. Only after he bought it did he discover who the previous owner was. He tracked me down through social media, and pledged to bring the car, fully restored, to this year’s Heartbeat Vehicle Rally on the last weekend in June.

The anticipation of seeing it had me in tears even before I’d set eyes on it because it was so tied up with my dad, the treasured memories and the devastating grief at his loss. I know the same goes for the rest of my family too, and so the reunion was made extra special by the fact my mum, my sister, my son, my niece and my six-week-old great-niece – four generations of our family – were at the rally to greet it.

 

Watching my mum’s face as she saw it come into view is something I’ll never forget – surprise, joy and raw emotion all bundled into one expression. She couldn’t wait to sit in the driving seat and once there, was reluctant to leave it. She recalled that, at five feet tall on a good day, she could barely reach the pedals when she used to drive it to work. She’d perch on the edge of the seat, pushed as far forward as it could possibly go, peeping over the steering wheel and long bonnet, barely able to see out.

 

She worked at Ampleforth College, and remembered how the schoolboys would gather round the classroom window to watch as she manoeuvred the great thing into a parking spot, bewildered at how a diminutive secretary had such a large fancy car.

 

What they didn’t know was that the Jaguar guzzled petrol and so it was more economical for Dad to drive our small Ford Anglia the 20 miles to police headquarters in Northallerton while Mum’s journey was just one mile.

 

Richard had done a remarkable job of the restoration, the paintwork and chrome gleaming as if new. The interior was equally impressive, and the stunning walnut dashboard for which Jaguars are known had been painstakingly crafted back to life. If I am honest, it was in much better condition than when we had it! But then, it was a family car, and with four squirming kids squished into the back on trips out, it perhaps wasn’t given quite the respect it enjoys now.

 

My dad used to complain about its reliability, or rather, lack of it, and it was renowned for conking out so I was very relieved to hear that it had completed the 350-mile round trip to the rally and back to Richard’s home again without missing a beat.

 

The best moment was when we got to have a ride in it, with mum in the front passenger seat, and we girls in the back. The familiar low chugging of the engine took me straight back to the last time I had heard that noise, the day it had left us forever. I could quite happily listen to that sound for the rest of my life.

 

I had a lump in my throat at the end of the day as it sailed off down the road back towards its new home. But Richard has given us a very special memento – Dad’s Jag in miniature mounted on a plaque with a special dedication to honour him.

 

I don’t think I could have asked for much more.

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 10th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 8th July 2026

Wood you know this?

Marks on a beam in an old house I visited recently

Marks known as ‘Cats’ paws’ on some kitchen cupboard doors

I wonder if this beam had a previous life?

As the writer of a weekly column, I am always on the lookout for topics, and am often the cause of long delays on walks or trips out as I pause to take pictures and investigate something that has caught my eye.

It could be a flower in the grass, a bird in a bush, a crop at the side of the road or a door in a building –  if the moment takes me, I can be distracted by just about anything!

This week my attention was drawn to the varieties of wood found in a house I was visiting that had beautiful exposed beams and a hand built kitchen. The house was constructed in the 1800s and every piece of timber had its own unique character.

The kitchen was the first to captivate me because it was built from a rich sandy-gold timber with distinctive patches of what I assumed were small knots in the wood. Looking more closely, I could see they were really rather beautiful, each a little cluster with its own distinct patterns, colours and characteristics, the sort you only find in material crafted by nature. Obviously this kitchen was much younger than the house’s supporting beams and struts, but it nevertheless fascinated me.

A bit of net surfing when I got home led me to discover that this particular wood is known as ‘cluster elm’ and the patches that I was looking at are sometimes referred to as ‘cats’ paws’ thanks to their resemblance to a paw print. The clusters are actually dormant buds that have been prevented from growing for some reason, such as an injury to the tree or a disease. Elm is prized for the beautiful patterns created by the swirling nature of the grain which, alongside the cats’ paws, can become a stunning feature on a piece of furniture.

I then spent some time looking closely at the various oak timber beams, A-frames and Y-frames that were holding this lovely old house up. As I mentioned, each piece had its own unique character, with some carved in asymmetrical shapes, and others marked with a series of nicks or puncture marks all over the beam. I wondered why these were created, because it seemed to me that they had been done with purpose, although I was not sure what that purpose was. Were they to allow the wood to breathe, for example? I have since seen other more modern pieces of oak that have also been marked in a similar way. Perhaps a timber expert or someone who works with wood can enlighten me!

I do know that back in the old days, salvaged materials were commonplace, and wood from shipwrecks would be rescued and used in the construction of houses. Some of these beams appeared to have come from one such misfortune, and I could visualise the aged interior of an old sailing ship or the mast upon which the giant sails would be hoisted. I wondered about the tales they could tell and from what kind of ship they had come – was it a trade ship, carrying precious cargo that had perished in a storm, or perhaps a pirate ship, causing havoc on the high seas until karma came a calling, despatching it to a dreadful end on our coastal rocks?

In the 19th century, the North Sea was one of the most perilous stretches of water to sail upon due to frequent storms and scant interest in safety. Shipwrecks were commonplace and if you visit some of the old houses in places like Whitby, Staithes and Robin Hood’s Bay, you’ll see that residents were not shy about reclaiming the timber that had once sailed proud upon the ocean wave.

However it would take an expert to correctly identify where these beams were from, because the house is some way from the coast. Useful timber was also salvaged from buildings that had collapsed or burned down and from what I have read, the style of the markings and the types of joints will tell us more about the original place from which they were salvaged.

I have more photos, but sadly there is not enough room for them all to fit on this page, so if an expert out there is reading this, please get in touch and I will send them on to you!

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 3rd and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 1st July 2026

 

Hog your ground for good weather

Burying a sausage is supposed to bring good weather for your wedding. Where did this idea come from?

I am at that stage in my life where I have to admit that I am too old and too lazy to keep myself up to speed with all the new stuff with which my kids’ generation busies itself.

My children are at the age where their peers are getting married and having babies and the trends that were around when I married and started my family are now considered prehistoric. They don’t know how lucky they are not needing to be a contortionist to get a squirming screaming toddler strapped safely into a car seat in the cramped space in the back of the car. Instead of facing towards the seat in front, they are now mounted on a pivot enabling them to be swiftly swivelled to face you at the car door. Why it took so long for us to work out that was a sensible idea baffles me. Having said that, I’m pleased for all the physiotherapists across the world who benefitted from the extra work the old seats created.

It’s coming up to wedding season and I wonder if certain traditions we used to embrace have bitten the dust too, such as not seeing your groom the night before, or making sure you wear something old, new, borrowed and blue. Do Gen Z still do theses things? Gen Z refers to anyone born between 1997 and 2012, the first generation to have had access to the internet, social media, and smart devices for their whole lives.

For those of us startled by that fact, we can be comforted in the knowledge that one thing has remained constant – the unpredictability of our weather. I know that global warming means we experience more severe weather events than we used to, be it days of torrential rain, or days of hot sun. But we still cannot be certain that it won’t pour down when we plan an outdoor occasion.

But fear not. There is a tried and tested method to be sure of fair weather for your nuptials; for brolly-free wedding photos, you have to bury a sausage.

Yes. Bury a sausage.

I’m sure dozens of questions are right now flashing through your head, such as does it matter what kind of sausage? Is it cooked or raw? Does it have to be a particularly big sausage to give yourself a better chance of success? Where are you supposed to bury the sausage? And how long in advance of your wedding should you put it in the ground? Who should bury the sausage? Bride? Groom? Celebrant? And lastly, has anyone measured the success rate of sausage burying?

To find out more, I went straight to an expert, my Gen Z niece, who was married three years ago at a very risky time of year, October, where you’d think the chance of adverse weather put it firmly in sausage-burying territory. But the day was really beautiful, with the golden autumn sunlight providing a stunning backdrop for the photos. Had they concealed a fortuitous frankfurter to achieve it?

She replied: “We did not…I’d actually never heard of it until last week – my friend was at a wedding and they did it.”

Apparently it is the social media platform TikTok that is responsible for the viral trend, and its origins are shrouded in mystery. Google tells me that German-speaking countries, famous for their plethora of porky delights, are responsible, but when I asked my Bavarian friend about it he said he had never heard of such a custom.

As for the dozens of questions you might have, some sources say it has to be a raw sausage, others cooked. Some say bury it at the bride’s home, others at the wedding venue. Some say conceal it the night before, others a week before. As for the kind of sausage, I think you have free rein from chunky bratwurst to skinny chipolata.

I did find one source that suggested it descended from the tradition of Groundhog Day, where the beaver-like mammal comes out of hibernation to predict the weather for the coming months. The connection is that a hog is a kind of pig, which is the source of most sausages, and putting it in the ground means you bury it. Hence groundhog.

Personally, I think everything I’ve just written is a load of old groundhogwash.

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 5th and the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on Wednesday 3rd June 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

Straight from the horse’s tail

Kath Brammah was fit as a fiddle until she broke her hip playing padel tennis

In my New Year column I featured a number of funny quotes from famous people about diet and exercise, and ended with the following anonymous philosophical quip:

“Eat Right. Exercise. Die Anyway.”

Clare Proctor got in touch to say: “That last quote sums it up for me. An old lady once said to me that her doctor kept telling her to do all sorts of things to help her live to 100, to which she said, ‘Why? My friends are already dying, my family have pretty much gone, so why do I want to live to 100, alone and dribbling in a care home?’ She may have a point…although, the older you get, the younger 100 looks!”

Lucien Smith added: “My mum lived to 94 and by then she had outlived almost all her friends of her own age. She still had lots of younger friends, but it’s not quite the same…That generation see their friends either passing away or confined to a care home. It can’t be easy!”

I’m sure we’d all love to live longer IF we could guarantee not to have to deal with the kinds of physical and mental ailments that we witness our parents’ and grandparents’ generations suffer, but sadly, the older I get, the more I realise that those who do manage to remain spritely are the exceptions rather than the rule.

One such person is my friend’s mum Kath. Until a week ago, 77-year-old Kath was as fit as a fiddle. Sadly, she took a tumble and broke her hip. The thing is, when she took that tumble she was racing like a teenager around a padel tennis court. When the hospital doctor asked how much physical activity she did, she replied that she played tennis and padel twice – sometimes even three times – a day! She also fit golf and countryside walks into her weekly calendar,

I don’t know many 47-year-olds who can manage that level of activity without physical repercussions, let alone 77-year-olds. But as I mentioned, people like Kath are the exception. Thankfully, she is back home and recovering.

I try to keep fit and, like Kath, love playing padel. You may have noticed courts springing up all over, and it seems the nation has become hooked on it. It’s highly addictive, but I am one of the many of a certain age who have been thwarted by their body letting them down.

Just before Christmas my right foot suddenly stopped working normally. I couldn’t lift it upwards, couldn’t wiggle my toes and was getting tingling sensations down that leg.

I was diagnosed with foot drop, something new to me. At first the GP thought it was a compression of the common peroneal nerve which runs off the sciatic nerve, down your leg and wraps around the calf bone. It controls the muscles that operate the ankle, foot and toes.

When I am injured, I turn to my amazing chiropractor to set me right and get me back on court (I’ve lost count how many times I’ve needed his services!). A chiropractor specialises in treating musculoskeletal issues like neck and back pain, and understands the relationship between the nervous system and your bones and muscles. I happened to mention that the tingling sensations had started to appear on the other side of my body too and, alarmingly, he sent me straight to A&E.

There’s a condition called Cauda Equina Syndrome. The cauda equina is a collection of nerves at the base of the spine that fan out like a horse tail, which is what ‘cauda equina’ means in Latin. In rare cases these nerves can become compressed, for example by a slipped disc. It is an emergency situation, and if you arrive in A&E with these symptoms, you will need an immediate MRI scan followed by treatment.

To my utter relief, my scan showed that the compression was further up my spine affecting the a sciatic nerve, and therefore not an emergency. Although I can’t play the sports I love at the moment, the outlook is positive for recovery, as long as I do certain exercises and wear an ankle brace to help with my floppy old foot.

I shall let you if I make it back to the padel court!

This column appeared in the Ryedale Gazette and Herald on 28th and the Darlington and Stockton Times on 30th January 2026