Ghost stories

I feel a bit awkward interrupting Alan's superb social history researches, but I feel a need to display this picture.

As AB knows, Jane is due to publish on October 31st. a set of ghost stories based on locations on the South Oxford Canal. (It'll be available on Amazon.) There have been many discussions, Jane's even been to see Colin Dexter (of inspector Morse fame) to read him some of the stories (he loved them - as he should, they are absolutely superb. Of course people assume I say that because Jane's my wife - not so, I'm really rude if I don't like something she's written!)

However, the discussions included that there really should be a map. Jane was so worried about this I foolishly said "I'll do that!" Since I can't really draw, the remark came out of sheer male protective bravado and landed me with the awful problem of how to to create something suitable.

Eventually I found a method. I think it'll do - hope you all agree.

The stories themselves are much more fun mind you - I've just re-read the lot because Jane's sort-of-publisher had some suggestions were.... (woops, nearly wrote a rude word.) No question Jane's original (bar a couple of tiny things) was far better.

Only my opinion, of course. Just as it's my opinion AB's postings deserve an even wider audience.

A Family Six Pack : Part 4 - John Arthur Burnett

John Arthur Burnett 1899 - 1967

Looking at the six faces on that 1917 family photograph, perhaps the most compulsive is that of my Uncle John. In his face we see something of the uncertainty of a young man about to go to war, a young man just about to cross the very threshold to adulthood. Looking through the various photographs I have of Uncle John I have only just realised that this is the only one where he wasn't smiling. Knowing what he was to face within a year of the photograph being taken, he cannot be blamed for his pensive look. If it had been me, I would have been terrified.

John Arthur was born in the last year of the nineteenth century, the eldest child of Enoch and Harriet Ellen Burnett. He was brought up in a working class district of Bradford and is listed in the 1911 census as a "school usher". As he was only 12 at the time it would appear that this was one of those unpaid supervisory posts you gave to kids in their final years before leaving school and starting work - what in my day was called a school prefect. By the time he joined the army in 1917 - at the age of 18 - he was listed in his British Army Service Record as a warehouseman. John joined the West Yorkshire Regiment almost as soon as he was of age and following a period of initial training in England he was posted to the Western Front in February 1918. According to his war record he seems to have managed to keep his head down - that is until the battle of Aisne/Chemin Des Dames in May 1918. On the 27th of May, amidst heavy fighting, he was captured by the Germans just outside the village of Pontavert. He was held prisoner in Stuttgart and didn't find his way back to England until January 1919. The service record provides a detailed chronology - he was reported missing in action on the 5th June 1918 and it wasn't until December that it emerged he had been taken as a prisoner of war. It must have been a chronology of misery for my grandparents - six months of hoping for the best but fearing the worst.

By 1920 John was married and has started a family. He was now working as a wagon driver and - in typical Burnett fashion - he would happily spend his time under the bonnet of his wagon trying to work out how it worked or, more likely, why it didn't work. I know little of his married life, little was ever said in the family. But the marriage must have had problems because by 1936 he had left his wife and family and returned to live at home in Arctic Parade, Bradford. No contact with his children was maintained and therefore I never knew the only three first cousins I had. A few years ago I was contacted by e-mail by the son of one of those cousin's who was doing research into his family and we were able to exchange information and reconnect two parts of the family seventy years after the split had taken place.

John married again in 1946 however his marriage to Doris produced no further children. But he was a happy man, with a well-developed sense of fun. When I was quite young he once took me to a football match to watch Bradford Park Avenue play Halifax Town and fed me with boiled sweets throughout the match. His life and mine - connected by our shared memories - span the centuries in a way that is almost beyond belief. He was born in the nineteenth century, fought in the First World War, drove ancient wagons during the 1920s, fed boiled sweets to his young nephew in the 1950s. And here he is - in the twenty first century - on the web.

Parts of this post are based on earlier posts dating back to 2007. If you have read the earlier posts I apologise for the repetitions (but admire the way you have stayed loyal to the blog over the years!). To read the earlier installments of this "Family Six Pack" mini-series you can follow these links:

Me And My Family On Tenterhooks

A Family Six Pack Part 1 : Auntie Annie

A Family Six Pack Part 2 : Enoch Burnett

A Family Six Pack Part 3 : Harriet Ellen Maxfield

Theme Thursday - Beginning

I suppose the beginning of my adventure was when I heard on a recent radio programme that Herodotus of Halicarnassus (484 BC - 425 BC) went in search of the source of the River Nile. By searching for the beginnings of such a momentous waterway, Herodotus hoped to discover something about the beginning of life itself. This sounded like a noble cause and one worthy of Theme Thursday so I decided to follow in his footsteps. Unfortunately I had neither the time, nor the energy, nor the spare cash to go in search of the source of the Nile but I reasoned that if I went in search of the beginnings of our local River Calder I could expose myself to the same philosophical truths. And so an adventure was born.

What little I could discover about the beginnings of the River Calder suggested that the quest should centre on an area of moorland to the north-west of Todmorden called Heald Moor. So on Tuesday morning I shook my son Alexander awake and told him that we were going on an adventure in search of the source of the River Calder and the beginning of life itself. He gave me one of those knowing but slightly pitying looks that they teach them at Medical School but, Power Of Attorney form in hand, he agreed to accompany me to make sure that I didn't get into trouble.

Space does not allow me to fully describe the journey we had to undertake just to get to the area where we expected to find the head-waters of the river. We travelled through strange lands (Hebden Bridge and Todmorden) and met with exotic natives (unfortunately, Tony was not around that day). We followed the river as it left the comfort of the last trans-Pennine track and dissected the black mountain crags. We climbed up steep hills and clambered over bracken-fringed slopes. As we made our way higher and higher we discussed the philosophical concept of beginning. Could their be a single source, a single beginning to a mighty river? Was the source for an identifiable beginning merely a cartographers' dream. Perhaps there is no beginning and if this is the case perhaps there is no end.

The end of my strictly limited store of energy occurred as we climbed over a rocky ridge and sighted an enormous waterfall in the distance. The water seemed to be cascading down from heaven itself. "We have found the source, we have discovered the beginning", I said to the Lad. He suggested we climb even further and discover what occurred before the waterfall. I said that this was like asking who created God or what set the Big Bang in motion. I reminded him that good old Herodotus got as far down the Nile as Aswan and then simply said that that was more or less the source because he didn't have time to go any further.

After further strenuous efforts we eventually got down the near mountain and back to where we had parked the petrol donkey. As we walked across the car park the Lad pointed out a storm drain out of which a continuous stream of water was flowing. It flowed down the road and eventually into the stream. Finally we had discovered the beginning, the source and indeed the meaning of life. It came not from the waterfall from heaven but from a storm drain in the ground.

Click here to see how others have approached this week's theme.

Archive Of The Week : A Little So And So In The Old Bailey

My archive of the week is Old Bailey Online - The Proceedings of London's Central Criminal Court 1674 - 1913. This wonderful site provides full details of almost 200,000 criminal trials held at the Old Bailey and constitutes perhaps the largest body of such texts ever published. It is fully searchable and therefore you can have great fun checking back to see what your great, great, great, grandfather twice removed was transported to Australia for. But you don't need to be searching for a long lost great aunt or a felonious second cousin : you can just pick a date and dive in. The water might not be warm but you will be guaranteed a truly fascinating insight into life in previous centuries. For the purposes of this post I have chosen just one page (p.7) of the record for just one day (7th April 1725). The illustration at the top of this piece is of that page but I have provided the transcriptions of two of the trials covered so that you can get a flavour of what is available.

Elizabeth Mason And A Bit Of So And So;

The short text tells its own story and what a story it is. William Cowen (the prosecutor) claims that Elizabeth Mason stole 15 yards of cloth from him. Elizabeth claims that the cloth was given in exchange for a little "so and so". The cloth was undoubtedly handed over but Elixabeth wasn't forthcoming with the "so and so" and therefore he took his case to the court. The details are set out in the following extract. I think most fair minded people will be pleased to note that Elizabeth was not convicted.

"Elizabeth Mason , of Shadwell , was indicted for stealing 15 Yards of Cloth, Value 9 s. 6 d. the Goods of William Cowen , on the 10th of March last. William Cowen thus depos'd: I carry Cloth to sell about Streets. I met the Prisoner's Husband, who was my Ship-mate: He bade me call upon his Wife, to see if she wanted nothing in my Way, which I did. I afterwards miss'd a Piece, which I found where she had pawn'd it. The Prisoner thus made her Defence: When the Prosecutor came to my House, he was very rude, threw me upon the Bed, and swore that he would do so and so, whereof I would not let him; and then he said he would give me a Piece of Cloth to pawn, and he would spend all the Money upon me, and be merry, and do so and so; whereof he gave me the Cloth, and I pawn'd it, and we spent the Money; and then, because I would not let him do so and so, he said he would swear a Robbery against me, whereof he did. The Prosecutor was contradicted by his own Witnesses, and the Jury acquitted the Prisoner".

The Late John Guy And The Three Fallow Deer

Life was certainly cheap 280 years ago and if the case of John Guy was anything to go by it was worth about 30 shillings. That was the value of the three fallow deer he was accused of killing, a crime for which he was sentenced to death. The shocking details of the case are recorded as follows.

"John Guy , of Tuddington , was indicted, for that he, after the 1st of June, 1723. that is to say, on the 1st of September last, did feloniously hunt and kill three fallow Deer value 30 s. in a Paddock or inclosed Ground where Deer are usually kept, belonging to Anthony Duncomb Esq ; Charler George thus deposed: As I lay in the Lodge, I heard a Noise in the Park like the Squeaking of Deer, about Five in the Morning, and looking out of the Window, I saw the Prisoner and Biddesford (an old Man) standing together. I know not whether they saw me or no, but they presently parted and went towards the Pales. I slipt on my Cloaths, and follow'd with my Gun. The Prisoner stept to me with a Pistol in his Hand, and swore if I did not go back, he'd shoot me. I was not sure that my Piece would go off, and so I retreated, and found two Deer lying dead, and they look'd as if they had been torne by Dogs. In the mean time the Prisoner and Biddesford got over the Pales. It fell out that some Countrymen were coming by soon after without-side the Pales, (for there's no Foot-Path thro' the Park.) I cry'd out Thieves, and they join'd together to assist me. I got over the Pales, and there found another Deer with his

Throat cut, and not quite cold. The Prisoner and old Biddesford took their Way towards Roger's Ferry, and we pursued them. When they came to the Ferry, they turned about, presented their Pistols, and swore we were dead Men, if we came a Foot nearer. However, when they were gone off, we took a Boat after them: They landed at the Half-Mile Tree, (about half a Mile from Kingston) and we were not far behind them. Biddesford was shot in the Fields, and the Prisoner was taken in Kingston, with a Powder-Horn and naked Knife in his Pocket. The latter Part of this Deposition was confirmed by the three Countrymen that assisted C.George in the Pursuit. Guilty . Death" .

There are another thirteen cases on the same page, most of which result in someone being transported to Australia for stealing a pocket handkerchief or the like. They are shocking, the are disgusting (do not read the final case report on the page, I warn you!) but they are absolutely engrossing. Just about all the things a good archive should be.

Napster 0 - Good Old Shellac 1

I am writing this post to a musical accompaniment : the Radio Syncopators are playing "Beyond The Blue Horizon" from the film "Monte Carlo". You may not be familiar with the song, I certainly wasn't until I bought the record on Saturday. If you do know the tune it is probably due to one of the many cover versions that have been issued over the last 75 or so years. But the version I bought goes back to the beginnings of the song in 1930. It is an old 78 rpm 8 inch record. And it is a thing of joy.

I haven't bought any records (or CD's or call them what you will these days) for years. I am a subscriber to Napster and get my music from an endless flow of legal downloads, It's all very technological, all very clean, all very sanitised. And what choice you have! You can have symphonies or salsa, opera or house, disco or dixieland jazz. You don't have to put up with what might be available - anything and everything is available. You don't have to leaf through record boxes hoping that you just happen to find the treasure you have been in search of for most of your adult life : you just enter the title in the search box and press a button. Wonderful. Encyclopedic. Faultless. .... Boring.

I was reminded of how things used to be when we were visiting an antique market on Saturday. There on the floor was a box full of old 78 rpm records marked up at 50p each. Whilst Isobel searched for the silver dog bowl - or whatever it was she was hunting for - I spent a delicious ten minutes or so leafing through the stock. There might have only been 50 records to choose from but they were substantial things made out of heavy shellac and wrapped in colourful cardboard covers which often advertised the local record shop.

I came away from the antique centre a happy man having spent £1 and acquired "Buttons and Bows" sung by Diana Shore and "Beyond The Blue Horizon" by the Radio Syncopators. As luck would have it, my brother got me an old wind-up gramophone from e-Bay a few years ago and repaired it for my birthday (my brother inherited all the technical ability from grandfather Enoch and my father). So here I sit. Napster is nowhere in sight. I keep having to pause and wind the handle again, but that counts as exercise and is cheaper than gym membership. I have just double checked on Napster to see if they have "Beyond The Blue Horizon" and I'm glad to say it is nowhere in sight. Napster 0 - Good Old Shellac 1.

Test Card 4 : Take Home Some Books

The last of the Test Card series - for the time being - shows a branch of the booksellers W H Smith in 1940 at the height of the blitz. During night after night of heavy bombing houses had to be "blacked out" so as not to provide navigational indications to passing bombers. And what to do during those blacked-out evenings? Take home some books of course. Normal blogging service will resume tomorrow.

Test Card 3 : notesforalbert.blogspot.com

The picture shows Queen Victoria composing her daily post to her blog - www.notesforalbert.blogspot.com

Test Card 2 : Fireman's Lift

The picture shows members of Sheffield Fire Brigade carrying out a training exercise based on the evacuation of casualties from a block of flats.

Test Card 1 : Coastal Battery

"Gunners of a coastal battery were rehearsing a charity Christmas show when the alarm went. They had to run to man the guns. British authorities censored this picture in 1941"

Encroaching Reality And A Television Test Card

We are approaching a Bank Holiday weekend here in Britain. We have guests coming for the weekend and a substantial family party planned for Sunday. I am being reminded of my duties : the house is to clean, the lawn is to cut, the bottle store is to be replenished. I fear that I will not have the opportunity to construct any decent posts until the tide of entertainment and jollity subsides. I have forgone the pleasure of participating in Theme Thursday this week and I will postpone the next installment of the "Family Six Pack" series until next week. I will concentrate my efforts on doing the rounds of my favourite blogs and seeing how the world beyond Fixby progresses.

Back in the early days of television, transmissions would be limited to just a few hours each day. In order that television installers could tune TV sets outside these limited hours of transmission, the television companies would broadcast static images known as Test Cards. These came in weird and wonderful forms but they acted as a reminder that although transmission were not currently taking place, the broadcaster lived on. The above example comes from the early British broadcasting experiments undertaken using the Baird system.

So over the next few days I will try and post my own Test Cards - just to let you know that the broadcaster lives on.

Archive Of The Week : MI5

A good dusty archive is one of the great loves of my life. I'm a rooter, a sorter, a browser, and a filer. It's what I enjoy doing and there are worse things for a post-middle-aged man to get up to. For me, there is an attraction to original documentation and archives are where you can find the original sources of the dramas, tragedies, comedies and histories that we call life. I'm not a purist : I don't have to get my fingers around the original, I am prepared to put up with a decent digital copy. This being the case, the Internet is an increasingly happy hunting ground and I regularly go in search of on-line archives. I will try and systematise the results of my explorations - after all I am a rooter, sorter, browser and filer - with a weekly feature which I will excitingly call Archive of the Week. And where better to start than with MI5.

MI5 (it stands For Military Intelligence, Section 5) was established 100 years ago and it is Britain's security and counter-intelligence service. Whilst MI5 deals with internal security (countering spies and nasty plots), external security (running spies and cooking up nasty plots) is handled by MI6. Over recent years MI5 has become much more open about its activities and now boasts a web site where it has adverts for current vacancies and, more than likely, it has its own Facebook Group and Twitter Account ("Following Sergie Oblamov down Strand, Wot U Doing?"). It also has its own archives and has started to make some of the masses of documents it keeps available on the Internet. The source documents which are available are proof once again of how source documents can add a powerful resonance to any story.

Take, for example, the case of Eddie Chapman. His story is fairly well known. A professional safe-breaker and armed robber in the 1930s he found himself in prison in the Channel Islands at the time of the German occupation in 1940. He put together a plan for escaping to mainland Britain by volunteering his services as a spy to the German authorities. They trained him, gave him the obligatory code pads, invisible ink and suicide pills and parachuted him back to Britain. On arrival he contacted MI5 and told his story. The authorities were quite impressed with Eddie and decided to use him as a double agent and - as Agent Zig-Zag - he was one of the most important and successful double agents of the Second World War. The exploits of Eddie Chapman have been recorded in several books and at least one film. But, to my mind, none of that accumulated story-telling can come close to reading the original badly typed statement which was taken down by his MI5 interrogators and can be seen in the MI5 archives. That smudged, torn, brown, fading document has a power that is compulsive. It is the stuff of history.