Corking

 I chuckled with delight as I came across this cork in a shop window which measured from my wrist to my elbow. Sadly though, try as I might, I couldn't find the bottle which it fitted🍾🤣

Have good weekend. More dancing in this little part of Sussex. Next week will be our 6th on the trot and then we get a few weeks off. Hmm...more mischief!!

꩜Aril꩜

The Tin Nose Shop

 

I feel that there probably aren't many of us who will design our own tombstone, but for those with the natural ability like the British sculptor Francis Derwent Wood, then maybe it doesn't come as such a surprise. Like me you may not be familiar with this artist's work and in all honesty I have no idea how well known he was then or now. Born in 1871 he found that he was too old to enlist for active service on the front line in WWI so he decided to sign up for the Royal Medical Corps instead as an orderly. During his time he saw horrendous injures and those with facial disfigurement faced a particularly harsh return into society. Not only were these poor men suffering from PTSD, but they were often shunned because of the fear and disgust caused by the sight of their very visible injuries. Some were treated by the pioneers of plastic surgery which was just starting to come in, but most were given a rubber mask to hide behind. Derwent Wood realised that he could utilise his skills to improve the lot of those afflicted. Using pre-war photos of the individuals once they had healed he made thin metal masks upon which he hand painted in the missing features. This did go some way to disguising the facial horrors inflicted by the war, but they unfortunately proved to be hot and uncomfortable to wear. The soldiers called it 'The Tin Nose Shop'

Wood's grave, along with the photos below, are in the beautiful Sussex village of Amberly, which sits nestled in a valley in the South Downs just a stone's throw from Arundel. As you can see it is delightful....David and I were tasked with the difficult job of carrying out a quality control test on the cakes in the newly taken over tea room. I am delighted to report that they passed with flying colours and we went ahead with the purchase of an afternoon tea voucher for my parents for their diamond wedding present. It was a tough job, but I feel that I am perfectly qualified with the number of cafe trips I have got under my belt since retiring!

The house below is Kennards and dates from 1550.

What else are you going to call a house with a pig above the door? Bacons it is🐷

꩜Aril꩜

Welcoming Summer

 I had the most incredible time being at the Deptford Jack in the Green on Friday celebrating Beltane. The folk custom of having a jack parading along the streets dated back to at least the 19th century and inspired by the popular Hastings version, it was brought back in the 1980s. It is a much smaller affair, but full of energy and bonhomie with people just coming together and celebrating community. I loved it💚

The jack is built the night before at the Dog and Bell pub and it's here where it sets off around on its route. There is one fellow in there who leaps about with great skill and the chap in the green tatters is one of the bogies who leads him because, as you can imagine, he only has a very restricted view. The following procession is made up of musicians and morris dancers together with the sparkly pink 'obby 'oss which spins and whirls. You soon learn to give it space and the legendary Deptford Gut Girls. They worked down at the docks gutting all the slaughtered animals and were known for their raucous unruly behaviour. Originally it was a man's job, but they took over in 1891 after and a strike and were noted for receiving a higher rate of pay than most working class women of that era. 

It was a warm day in London so we were mightily relieved when we stopped for a break by the Thames and enjoyed the breeze coming in off the river. As it was lunchtime by then my friend and I sought out a spot of shade in which to enjoy our lunch, but people kept finding us and asking us if we minded them taking our photo. The salmon got a lot of love!

My friend is Deptford born and bred and although she moved to Sussex a few years ago [hence the connection] she comes back regularly to see friends and family. One of the advantages of being with someone who knows the area like the back of her hand was that she knew exactly where to go to get ahead so that we could get a table at the next pub pitstop and enjoy a quiet drink before the mayhem started again. We stuck it out until the last but one place, but we were both had been on our feet for hours and were ready to head home. The jack returns to the original pub at the end where he is slain and the greenery is handed out to the audience. I only caught a few glimpses of what this part of South London has to offer, but I'll finish with a few shots I took in passing. I think it likely that we might go back up there one day and she'll show me around properly, but on a day when it's not chock a block with people.

Arilx

No jacket required.

Maybe no jacket required, but most definitely jacket needed when spotted for a fiver in the charity shop last week. I must remember never to wear it if I am passing through Tottenham Court Road tube station for fear of blending seamlessly in with the Paolozzi mosaics!

꩜Aril꩜

 

Grubby

It pleased me greatly to stumble across this street sign near Borough Market on a recent trip up into town to meet my pal Lovely Grey. What was even better was discovering later on that it is a genuine name and not something cooked up to play to all the tourists you get round there [myself included]. As I travelled back on the train I mused to myself that you just don't find this type of thing recorded in Horsham. Once upon a time we had Gibbet Lane [now Giblets Lane], Pest House Lane and when I was a child the sign for Highlands Road said it had been formerly called Grub Street, but all trace has now been removed. I realise that people probably don't want to live on roads where we are reminded of their less than salubrious past, but the naughty part of my brain is absolutely delighted to have unearthed this little gem since my visit. There I was reading a rather dry [although of great interest to me] tome about the local timber framed buildings when one particular paragraph revealed that our Park Street was known in former times as Sh*tbourne Lane. I inwardly whooped with delight😏 However, I will not be sharing on any of the local social media platforms because even I know that I will get myself into hot water.

Talking about all things dirty and grubby yours truly has literally been getting filthy. I realised a lifelong ambition on Saturday and went on my first archaeological dig. Am not that naive to expect to find any great treasures, but was chuffed to find a couple of small pieces of green glazed medieval pottery and some butchered animal bones on the site so I know people were there eating 800 years ago. Unfortunately much as I would love to be able to tell you where we are not allowed to share any details because of the threat of night hawks swooping in. It's no secret that I am a reluctant gardener at the best of times so am not really used to do any sort of extended digging so my legs were letting me know yesterday when I was out dancing. However, I am a glutton for punishment and we are going back again tomorrow. The project finishes on Wednesday. This is not the shard that I found by the way, but a similar sort of thing.

꩜Aril꩜

 

Blossail

'Blossail' is a word I hadn't encountered until last year, but then it's not really surprising as I subsequently found out that the folk singer, Jim Causley, had invented it and he very kindly has given Mythago permission to use it for our latest folkloric venture. From the 1700s through to the mid 19th century Sussex had spring time traditions of both wassailing blossom and honey bees. Although mention of it is made in the historical records very little has come through as to how they were actually celebrated bar one bee chant which, by its very sexist nature, wasn't seeing the light of day in anything we performed!

One of our primary motivations is to see old traditions reinterpreted and brought back to life and this particular combination has been on the wish list for quite some time. It was just a question of finding the right place which foxed us for a while. Last summer at an unrelated event when I ran into our contact for the January apple howling we do who is very passionate about the community orchard and saving Sussex heritage apples. Normally I wouldn't do this sort of thing, but for unfathomable reasons I heard this disembodied voice asking if he would be interested in us holding a Spring blossail for the local community...with horror I realised that those words were mine and he was already agreeing subject to the steering committee's approval the following evening. Talk about serendipity...things just fell into place from that Sunday last July and yesterday was the day. Our Squire is a very talented writer and once again he's pulled it out of the hat by putting together some beautiful words for the celebration and composing a bee wassail song. We have indeed invented a new tradition, but one which draws on our local past and incorporates several snippets of related folklore. 

We were blessed with beautiful weather and amazingly for an untested event 125 people of all ages turned up. Some are regulars in January, but we were a bit concerned that the attendees might be a bit reticent about joining in with it being during the day. We needn't have worried....folk didn't hold back. They threw petal confetti, blessed the trees with apple juice, hollered, sang and tied their ribbons on the metal cages round the saplings [it was a gentle way of showing people that tying things to any trees can damage them]. As one who loves to discreetly people watch I was intrigued at the amount of care many took in choosing which tree guard to tie their strip of cloth and bless. Many seemed to draw a lot from the experience even though we present it as a piece of theatre. Am delighted to say that we have had the loveliest feedback with many commenting on how much they enjoyed the level of audience participation and what fun they had. It's already been agreed that we will be doing it all again next year weather permitting.

I seem to have amassed many tales which are waiting to be told, but they will need to wait until I return from a short adventuring break that I have planned with David for the remainder of this week.

꩜Aril꩜

 

Haring about

Along with my Dad, David and I had the absolute pleasure of going on an organised hare walk up on the South Downs this week. I've had the privilege of seeing a few of these magical creatures in my time, but never so many on a single morning. There were a few hunkered down which took time to spot as many a clod of earth looks to be the right shape at a distance, but several were out and about being busy. I knew before we started that there was no point in taking any photos with my phone so all my viewing was done through binoculars. Thankfully David Taylor of the Friends of the South Downs Society [https://www.sussexnature.co.uk/], who led us, shot this stunning footage and he has very kindly given me permission to share it on here so you can enjoy it too.

Hope you have a corking weekend.

꩜Aril꩜

 

Diamonds are forever

Today it's my parents' 60th wedding anniversary. It's an amazing achievement and we have celebrated with a stunning Sussex family lunch out. They don't care for a big fuss or being centre of attention, but I did have a quiet word with the monarch who's kindly sent them a card with a golden tassel no less. It's been back here to GBT for a post prandial slice of homemade Dorset apple cake and a glass of prosecco. 

Cheers!

꩜Aril꩜

Two by two

Two days, two museums, two extraordinary artefacts, two things crossed off the list.

Saturday, Worthing Museum and exhibit one.

This 'thing' came to my attention a few years ago when a friend sent through a photo of it. At the time it had been lost and only photographic evidence remained. However, more recently it was rediscovered inside a box in the stores, but wasn't on display the last time I visited. The museum only reopened last month following a two year long refurbishment and has yet to put out the accompanying labels. You won't be remotely surprised to be told that this is known as 'The Cissbury Phallus' and was discovered in 1953 by a local archaeologist John Pull. It was found down shaft 27 of the neolithic flint mine nearest the entrance to the southern entrance of the Cissbury Ring Hillfort. I am just imaging the miner's glee when he happened upon it whilst excavating way back in 3800 BC...I am sure that there must have been some ribald comments for it's a big beast shall we say. Although it has been lightly shaped in places, it is mainly a natural formation of a flint shaft with a fossilised sea urchin [echinoid] attached to the top.It was the first time that I learnt that the phallus as an art form/ritual item had been part of the human story for so long. The oldest one dates back 28,000 years. We can speculate upon its role in the society of the day, but the suggestion of it being used as a fertility symbol seems likely, but knowing human nature as it it I am sure that people also enjoyed the visual rudeness of it. Whilst my friend and I were actually there for a folkart exhibition. this unexpected Brucie bonus was an extra highlight.

Sunday, Ashmolean Museum, Exhibit two.

Way back in 2018 I specifically travelled over to Oxford to go to a witchcraft exhibition at the Ashmolean and with a bit of time to spare beforehand I had a lovely wander around some of the galleries of interest to me and saw some amazing sights. It was only when I got home that I realised with great frustration that it is the home of the Alfred Jewel and I had missed where it was housed. We were back in the city this weekend dancing at the folk festival and with an hour to spare and only a five minute walk away from our first dance spot I wasn't going to miss out on another opportunity. It really was a case of dive in, take a photo and dash out again, but  so worth it. 

The jewel was discovered in 1693 by a labourer digging peat in North Petherton, Somerset and it is known that Alfred The Great established a monastery in nearby Athelney having sought refuge there in 878 from the marauding vikings. It is a miniature masterpiece formed from gold with a dragon finial and an enamelled portrait of a man sealed beneath a teardrop shaped piece of rock crystal. Upon it the translated inscription reads 'Alfred ordered me to be made'. It has been in the museum's possession since 1718. Various theories have been put forward to its purpose, but the favoured one nowadays is that it is the head of aestel which would originally have had an ivory pointer and was used for following written text. Alfred is known to have given every bishop in his kingdom an English version of the Regula Pastoralis [written by Pope Gregory] to improve the clergy literacy. Maybe this was also sent out to someone of high status. If you're a fan of the tv series 'detectorists' you will know that this is supposedly the piece Lance found which ended up in the British Museum😀 It might be small, but it certainly packs a punch impact wise.

I consider myself to have been really lucky these past couple of days.

꩜Aril꩜

White Ermine

 If anyone ever tells you that moths aren't beautiful...this is the White Ermine moth.

Arilx

Easter Monday Jaunt

With many folk in full holiday mode yours truly has been seeking out the quiet places away from the crowds.  A couple of hours walking in the stunning Sussex countryside a few miles from home was just the ticket and gave me the reset I needed. Please tag along if you'd care to join us on our most recent meander.

Regular visitors here will know that I am a lover of Spring and Autumn. This time of year it's all about the freshness and vibrant colours of the new season. Nature didn't let me down. Photos never capture the true beauty of the woods at bluebell time...the colour is sublime as are the lime greens and the sharp orange of that lichen [imaginatively called Common Orange Lichen]. The wings of the orange tip butterfly are tangerine, but they rarely land for more than a brief moment so capturing a close-up is well nigh impossible! 

This particular combination of a high gate above and a stile below was one neither of us had encountered before. The design is to keep the livestock in and once we'd crossed the field we found out first hand why that was. That goat is the ringleader....

He called his ovine mates over and then they started nonchalantly following us at a distance to lull us into a false sense of security.

As we neared the other gate on the far side, these would-be Houdinis sped up and we had to get through pretty sharpish. I think that they might have played before😀

Having been very slack this year and barely set foot in any churches I got two for the price of one on this occasion. The first one was a RC one which I only popped over to because I wanted to see the grave of the writer and former MP Hilaire Beloc who lived round here. Not much of interest to report, but then we washed up back at the parish church of St George's in West Grinstead where we'd parked the car. Having been before I wasn't even sure if I was going to bother again, but as ever when temptation is dandled in front of me it is too hard to resist. Am mighty glad that I gave in again for I have learnt over the past decade where I might find things lurking and as you can see below I turned up several things which had previously passed me by.

The faded remains of an early 16th century set of wall paintings featuring St Christopher holding the infant Jesus with a windmill? That's definitely a new one on me. The picture gives you a better idea of what it would have looked like back in its heyday.

You really do find all sorts of things knocking about in churches and often without explanation. At the time I theorised that this wooden box might have been an ancient coffin, but looking at it back at home I can see that it would have been for a very short person and why would it have had strap hinges. Then I wondered if it was the partial remains of a so called crusader chest, but wrong again. It is a hudd [hood] which was a portable shelter to protect the clergyman when he was conducting a funeral service at the graveside in inclement weather conditions.

I have seen my fair share of arcaded 12th century fonts in my time and this one was lovely, but not particularly noteworthy...or so I thought until I saw those teeny faces peering out at me from the corners. Possibly lions, but delightful and nearly missed.

It felt like my outing had definitely been sprinkled with fairy dust.

꩜Aril꩜