April 2010

Your letters

Wartime Marske

Regarding Mike Tack’s letter about Marske-by-the-Sea (Jan), my mother and I moved to Marske in late 1940 from Mossley near Manchester and we lived in the bungalow on the left hand side of the road facing the railway just below the bridge. The village, for that is what it was, was still orientated towards the sea and farming, with some of the men in reserved occupations such as working in the steel works near Warrenby.

In early 1942 we were chased up the road from Redcar to Marske by a Messerschmitt which appeared to be trying to clear the mines that had been planted on the seaward side of the footpath beside the road.

Another notable day was when a Heinkel was brought down in Lockwood Beck Reservoir. The surviving crew were brought through Marske with the local women giving them a bad time because many of the houses had had slates shot from their roofs. The ladies would have preferred that the German airmen were made to repair the damage.
We later moved to Redcar, where some of my family still live. Another German aircraft was shot down by the gun battery at the seaward end of Green Lane. In fact, as a youngster after the war my friend and I collected a large quantity of live ammunition from the area of the crash site, much to the consternation of the police.

The camp at Green Lane wasn’t an airfield as such. It was a training base for non-aircrew.
This camp was open until early 1944 when it was taken over as a rest area for American soldiers. The local women were asked to open the doors to these soldiers who would appear with food parcels and sit in front of a fire and ‘be at home’ for a short time. They had to be back in base by 11pm so needed to leave by 10pm.

Most of these men never reappeared after D Day. Some sent letters but most didn’t.

Phil Maude, Uphall, West Lothian

Racing to Apperley Bridge

The article on Apperley Bridge (Feb) brought back memories of travelling by train from Skipton, early morning, to London St Pancras in 1949 or 1950. After leaving Shipley, a triangle junction, our train headed towards Leeds, to be joined as a parallel track by a train from Bradford Forster Square.

The trains would then race, the crews waving at each other, disappearing into Thackley tunnels, and I was glued to the window wondering which station would emerge just before racing through Apperley Bridge and Rawdon station. Inevitably, signals would end the race and the trains would be combined at Leeds to become one train to London. The last time I travelled that route the tracks had been reduced to two. Did the drivers have a friendly wager?

Another memory of the area was watching motorcycle racing at Esholt Sewage works.

Mr D E Smith, Bridport, Dorset

Toilet Humour

While driving round this fair county of ours the other day, doing my deliveries in my lorry, I was listening to a local radio station talking about the subject of outside loos. Did you know if you have an outside loo, it can put value on your house due to its antiquity value? Apparently there are about 40,000 homes that still have them.

It took me back to when I was a young lad in the early 1960s living in Lawkholme, Keighley, when every house had an outside loo. It wasn’t too bad in the summer but it was a different story in the winter. Granddad used to cut rags up into strips to lag the pipes and there was always a storm lantern burning in the corner. During the night was no fun either; we used to put the cellar light on to light up the yard.

After shifting a couple of brass monkeys we used to sit there with the door half open so we could see. I can still remember my granddad saying to me as I went out into the cold, dark yard, “O’d up lad while I put cellar leet on for thi, a don’t wont thi ter ’ave any accidents!”

So if I ever decide to sell up and flit,
I’ll stick a portaloo in the back garden,
it should add a couple of quid to the value of the house… don’t know what the wife would say though.

John Davis, Bingley

Carved in history

I was very interested in the article by Frederick Jukes on Thomas Whittaker, the Gnomeman (Feb). My late father attended, fifty-five years ago, an evening class run by Thomas at Whitby, and made me a piano stool out of oak with three carved monk heads on it (see below pic) – one on each end and one in the centre.

The book ends shown in the article bear a close resemblance to the ones on my stool which were carved by my father.

Anthony Askew

Language of love

In the article ‘Love Divination in Yorkshire’ (Jan) St Agnes’ Eve is mentioned as a time when a young woman hoped to dream of her future husband. The poet John Keats wrote of this belief in his poem The Eve of St Agnes:

“They told her (Madeleine) how, upon St Agnes’ Eve, Young virgins might have visions of delight,
And soft adorings from their loves receive
Upon the honey’d middle of the night,
If ceremonies due they did aright;

As, supperless to bed they must retire,
And couch supine their beauties, lily-white;
Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require
Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire.”

To link the poem with your article has given me great pleasure, and given me a deeper appreciation of it. Thank you.

Mrs Joyce Hoseason, Sunderland 

Old style drinking

Phil Penfold’s article on the Salutation in Doncaster (Feb) brought back some happy memories. This was a favourite watering hole of mine as a young airman during my service days in the 1960s at RAF Finningley, six miles from Doncaster, a V bomber base then but now Robin Hood Airport.

The bus from Finningley would stop directly outside the Salutation, very convenient, and five or six of us, out for a night in ‘Donny’, would call in for a beer.

I can’t remember how much a pint was then but it couldn’t have been more than two shillings. Servicemen weren’t paid a great deal in those days so we couldn’t afford much more than that.
I have recollections of a print hanging above the fireplace, blackened with nicotine, but just discernible were half a dozen men in a similar setting, but of times gone by, sitting round a fire in a coaching inn, drinking and sharing good companionship, much as we were doing. Happy days.

I haven’t been back to the Sal since those carefree days but I hope it still retains the atmosphere of a watering hole rather than a karaoke venue.

Mr M Birchall, Scarborough

You can spot 'em a mile off

Ian McMillan, a Yorkshireman, eating tinned mushy peas? Nay, lad!

David Havenhand, Rawdon, Leeds

Richmond's old school

As Kenneth Prudom correctly states in December, Lewis Carroll – Charles Lutwidge Dodgson – did attend Richmond Grammar School, although it was for a relatively short period.

He started in August 1844 and had certainly left by February 1846 when he was enrolled at Rugby School. However, Richmond School at that time was not in the building that Mr Prudom knew, but was in the churchyard, the second of two schools to be built there. It would have been inadequate when Dodgson was there and was finally abandoned in 1850 when a new school was built nearby, at the other side of Station Road. Sadly, the new building outlived the boys’ grammar school, which was of ancient origin.

Mrs Dorothy Fenton, New Zealand

Medicinal Biscuits

Ruth Nettleton’s letter (Nov) about Dempster Lister’s teacakes brought happy memories of sharing them with my grandparents in the early 1930s. The plain ones were equally as delicious as those with fruit. I am sorry that I cannot help with a recipe but guess the flour had something to do with the texture and possibly the length of time they were left to prove in the hot bakery before they were baked.

I wonder if their parkin pigs also bring memories for other people. Many years ago my husband and I were on holiday in Yorkshire and we called at a bakery in Heckmondwike to buy parkin pigs, which we ate on the way to Manchester Airport.

The flight home was very rough and as we left the plane, the air hostess asked, “Have you a secret? Everyone but you was sick.” So of course, “Dempster Lister’s parkin pigs” was the reply, and we then had to explain that they were a traditional treat for Bonfire Night, and it was the ginger in them which helped to prevent travel sickness.

Mrs Marian Vaudin, Guernsey

Canalside Living

How I enjoyed the article on Driffield Navigation (Feb) as my early years were spent in a house (long since demolished) opposite Wansford Lock.

My earliest recollection was picking daisies on the triangular piece of grass at the Nafferton road junction. Another memory is helping to push the lock gates when the barges came through.

There are, incidentally, a number of pictures of the Navigation in the Sewerby Park museum.

Wansford was a pleasant village centred around two roads, the Row and the Square, each with its spring water supply. Both my maternal grandparents lie near Wansford’s lovely church.

Thanks for the memories.

Keith Elsworth, Strensall

Closure will be a huge loss

With brewing due to cease at the Tetley Brewery after nearly two hundred years, a brewery famous for its bitter beers and also its superb stable of shire horses, it will be another famous family business with strong Yorkshire roots lost forever.

Readers will recall the sight of the shires at many agricultural shows, always a well turned out attraction and well supported by the Tetley family.

R T Grace, Leeds

Burnsall

Best of all the villages
Under the grey fell top
River running past you
Never one to stop
Still I dream about you
All my memories cannot fail
Leaving you was a heartache
Loveliest village of the dale

C F Oakes, Guiseley

Anything with charcoal


My wife is known for burning pans
and pizzas whilst watching riveting(?) television.

She was looking after one of my granddaughters, Katie, and said her mother could call for tea on her way home from work. Pasta with pesto sauce was requested for both of them.

When I arrived home the kitchen was shrouded in heavy black smoke. The pan had a charcoal lining. I threw it in the garden and opened windows and doors. When I told my wife she rushed into the kitchen in a panic, more interested in what could she make now as opposed to the main problem.

When our daughter-in-law came she asked what the smell was. My wife explained and asked Katie to get the pan out of the garden to show her mother.

Everyone was in stitches when she shouted from the door, “Which one, Nana?”

George Potts, Blaydon Burn, Tyne & Wear

Can you help


At a recent church auction, a friend bought a painting of Hebden Bridge painted by Tom Sykes.

As I was a Sykes until I married he felt I might know a little about the painter. Despite asking the few contacts I have with the Wetwang Sykes family, I have been unable to find out anything about the painter, Tom. The Reverend Tom Sykes was a well known Methodist minister in Yorkshire but no one seems to think he painted.

Maybe some Dalesman readers can help with information?

Mrs Mary Lynch neé Sykes, Middlesbrough

Last year whilst on holiday in the Dales I bought a book from Leyburn railway station called Duchess in the Dales.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book and wanted to buy the author’s other books but cannot find them anywhere on the internet. I have tried to contact the publisher but they no longer seem to exist or have moved.

This book was written by a local author, David de Mortimer. Does anyone know of other books by the author and where I can find them?

Sue Butterworth, by email

Family Quest

I am still trying to find out the birthplace in Austwick of my father, William Davidson, in 1877, and his sister, Ann Davidson, in 1880.

Their parents were John Clapham Davidson, farmer, and Agnes (Swinbank). In the 1871 and 1881 census they are back in Horton-in-Ribblesdale.

I wonder if any readers have knowledge of the family. John’s brother, William Clapham Davidson, and his wife Ellen (Redmayne) lived in Austwick at Prospect House from around 1890.

I do hope to find out my father’s birthplace, but have so far been unsuccessful.

Pauline C Brearley, by email

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We welcome readers' letters, which should be sent to:
Dalesman, The Water Mill, Broughton Hall, Skipton, North Yorkshire BD23 3AG
Or email: paul@dalesman.co.uk

The editor reserves the right to edit letters for length and clarity.