Yorkshire and Lancashire
To continue yesterday's theme of the War of the Roses....I decided it was time to draw the two roses...
In addition,you may know the old song, She's a Lassie From Lancashire:
She's a lassie from Lancashire,
Just a lassie from Lancashire,
She's a lassie that I love dear, Oh! so dear.
Though she dresses in clogs and shawl,
She's the prettiest of them all,
None could be fairer or rarer than Sarah,
My lassie from Lancashire.
Not to be out done, this song was also written:
"My girl's a Yorkshire girl —
Yorkshire through and through.
My girl's a Yorkshire girl,
Eh! bah gum, she's a champion!
Though she's a factory lass
And wears no fancy clothes,
Still I've a sort of a Yorkshire relish
For my little Yorkshire Rose."
Sadly, not as well known.
Published Date:
12/08/2009
Modified Date:
12/08/2009
Happy Yorkshire Day
Sorry this is a bit late.....but sincerely meant.
What is it? I'm sure I don't have to tell a Flamborian. It's a
Yorkshire Rose. You must have heard of the Wars of the Roses. This was
war between the House of York and the House of Lancaster. Yorkshire has
a white rose and Lancashire has a red rose.
The Wars of the
Roses were intermittent civil wars which took place between these two
Houses, or families between 1455 and 1487 to see who would be King of
England.
So who won? Sorry to say Lancashire won and the house
of Tudor of Lancashire ruled Britain for about 116 years after that. To
my shame, I had to look up that information!
Now in our house, we have me from Yorkshire, and Moth from Lancashire -- but no wars, please!
SO HAPPY YORKSHIRE DAY TO YOU!
Published Date:
09/08/2009
Modified Date:
09/08/2009
Memories of Bridlington
From the Flamborough Head Golf Club we moved to Bridlington, around 1956.
Dad took over the Belvedere Golf Club, as I believe it was called then. Down Belvedere Road to the dead end. I liked it here, because it was so mysterious. The clubhouse was set in a cobblestoned courtyard, and there were ancient, unused stables. It would be great to know what the clubhouse building had been used for previously...probably an inn. In that setting one could imagine soldiers on horseback galloping down the road, leaving their horses with the stablemen and swaggering into the inn, where buxom maidens would bring them flagons of ale with which to quench their thirst.
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This photo, of the back of the old clubhouse, was taken in 2007. You see the bricked in circle at the top of the turret? That was my bedroom window. You can imagine the shape and size of the room, with its sloping ceilings -- I loved it! I wonder if the brick buildings on the right hand side of the photo, in the shadows, are the old stables? We didn't get out of the car when we visited in 2007; just stayed long enough to get a couple of photos.
There were a couple of spooky things that happened while we lived there. One was a fire that started under the floorboards of the billiards room. It was quite scary for me to hear the fire trucks, sirens blaring and coming lickety-split down Belvedere Road to put out the fire. We never did know how it had started.
Not long after that, there was a fire in the boiler room -- again the fire trucks, and again we didn't know what had started it. There was all kinds of talk about ghosts, of course -- which made it all the more exciting! But I never did see one!
There was a time when new drainpipes were being put in, all down Belvedere Road, right up to the courtyard. The ditches were about three feet deep, and at the end of the day, after the workers had gone home, I would climb into the ditches and pretend I was an archeologist. I actually did find a coin dated AD 70.
While we lived here, I attended Hilderthorpe school, which was within walking distance. I believe it's moved now.
From the golf club, we moved to our own house on Priory Crescent -- #59. Unfortunately the blog is telling me I've exceeded the image capacity, so can't post a photo here, but it was a nice house, just off Fortyfoot Road, within walking distance of the Priory - which I would attend whenever my gran would visit from London, which wasn't very often.
We had some friends who lived on Greame Road -- the Whites -- and I think the son's name was Simon. He and I used to love riding our bikes down the hill, down Limekiln Lane, under the railway bridge and on down to the beach. It seems to me that Limekiln Lane continued down under another brick bridge and we would ride right onto the sandy beach.
Memories of Bridlington are not like Flamborough memories, but they are still precious. I carried them all with me when we moved away from the coast to -- of all places -- Goole! Talk about from the sublime to the ridiculous! Sorry, Goolites, but after Flamborough, Goole was like a Gulag to me! My dad took over the Station Hotel on Boothferry Road, right across from the railway station. It was grim -- no ocean for miles, and I was devastated. But that's a whole other story.
Thanks Chris --this will probably be my last post, since you will be back soon. It's been good to remember!
Published Date:
05/06/2009
Modified Date:
08/06/2009
Pillboxes and Other Things
So I couldn't find a photo of a Flamborough Head pillbox. There was one -- not sure if it's still there -- just below the golf course, on the cliff beside the pathway heading down into Silex Bay.
It was a favourite spot for us kids to play on -- and in. The most fun was after dark. A bunch of boys and girls, we would gather on the top and play "Spin the Bottle." Actually, the boys got to spin the bottle, as the girls gathered around the action in a circle. Whichever girl the bottle pointed to when it stopped spinning had to go down into the pillbox and be kissed by the boy. Harmless fun, really -- we were mostly around 9 years old, and didn't know much else in those days!
The kiss lasted all of two seconds and we would come running out all giggly and red-faced (the girls, anyway). Seems to me, I remember there being great disappointment among the boys when the bottle pointed at me! They especially liked my friend, Ethel Charles, the coastguard's daughter. Here we are together, on the cliff top, probably just above the pillbox:
Ethel is the one on the right, and as you can see, she was much prettier than me (oh, that ghastly gap in my teeth - fixed long ago, thank goodness!).
Just yesterday, I met up with my cousin, Peter, who still lives in the UK but is visiting North America for a few weeks. This was only the second time in over 50 years that we have seen each other.
This is what we looked like, more than 50 years ago, when he and his family came to visit us at Flamborough Head. Imagine! Thornwick Bay hasn't changed a bit -- eroded somewhat perhaps, but we haven't!
I can't remember exactly where I was, but I did get myself into an awful scrape one time on the cliffs. I was quite a loner, and would roam the cliffs and slither down into the bays all around the headland by myself. I think I was down around the Fog horn station where I found a lovely bay.
Getting down was easy, and I spent some time exploring, loading my pockets with shells, pretty stones and smoothed glass. The tide started coming in really quickly, and it wasn't until I reached the bottom of the cliff that I realized there was going to be no easy way up. I couldn't get a foothold or a handhold that would help me even get started.
I think this was probably the first time I had ever prayed in earnest! Suddenly, I saw something protruding from the cliff. It was a huge cable, probably three inches in diameter. It ran sort-of in and out of the cliff-face, and fortunately was visible in all the right places to get me, scrambling hand-over-hand, back up top. If my mother only knew!
In retropect, I have often wondered about that cable and why it was there. This was a tiny bay, not conducive to landing cobles or other boats. And it certainly wasn't a place where sightseers would go. Had I stumbled on a smuggler's secret? Was this a hidden escape route?
Guess I'll never know!
Published Date:
31/05/2009
Modified Date:
08/06/2009
Flamborough - A Different Perspective
It's a privilege to fill in and blog for my sister while she's away.
Because Chris is seven years older than me, we have such a different perspective on our beloved Flamborough and what we miss about it.
I immigrated to Canada from the UK in 1962 and have lived in Toronto ever since. I pine desperately for the sea. I live on memories of Flamborough! We do have a lake here (Lake Ontario), but it sure doesn't measure up to the North Sea! In fact I don't get to see the ocean at all very often; only when I go to San Diego to visit Chris.
But two years ago, along with Chris's husband, we had a little vacation together in Flamborough. It was the first time I'd been back in 50 years! And very little had changed -- how many places can you say THAT about, after 50 years!
When I think of Flamborough, the very first thing I think about is our home. I was nine years old when the above photo was taken in 1953. My father was the manager of the Flamborough Head Golf Club for a number of years, and you can see the club house in the photo. Our home was the Dormy House - which is the smaller building running horizontally along the cliffs. Of course all that's left there now is a very large patch of gorse bushes!
The Dormy House was so close to the cliff edge that during a storm our windows would be coated with salt spray from the waves pounding the shore hundreds of feet below us. The house itself, which was really not much more than a large cabin, was reinforced with corrugated iron -- not a bad idea since gales force winds would frequently and violently blow in off the North Sea.
Lying snug in my bed at night during a storm, I could see the intermittent warning flashes from the lighthouse, and I could hear the deep moan of the fog horn. I could feel the vibration of wind and waves all around and under our little house But I was never afraid...I loved it!
I had no fear of golf balls. In fact, together with my friend Ethel Charles, who I think was the daughter of one the Coast Guards, we daily roamed the rough, paddled in the golf course ponds, and searched the cliffs for lost golf balls. At the end of the day I would sell them back to my dad for a tidy sum!
I loved to golf and I had my own set of little, cut-down-to-size clubs. In a tournament one year, I won a trophy for playing the best nine-hole game in my age group -- was I proud!
Speaking of trophies, one time my dad climbed a ladder in the clubhouse to put up a little corner shelf which was to hold the big trophy that the club team had just won.
I was below, holding the nails for him. When he'd finished, one of the men handed up the trophy to him and Dad put the heavy trophy down on the shelf - which immediately gave way! I was so calm, standing under the ladder -- I just stuck out my arms and caught the trophy. It was so heavy that it knocked me down -- but neither of us suffered too much damage! I was the heroine of the day! My reward was a lemonade and a packet of crisps, and a shilling to spend at the store at the top of the road where the buses used to turn around.
It was lovely to be in Flamborough after 50 years -- to take the still-rickety steps down into Silex Bay; to smell the salt air and the seaweed; to hear the echo of childrens voices ringing throughout the bay, enjoy the gentle waves lapping at the rocks...and to remember.
In my next post I will tell you what we used to do in those war-time pill boxes that still nestle on the cliffs -- or maybe you don't want to know! Perhaps my sister will be sorry she gave me her blog while she's away!
Stay tuned!
Published Date:
25/05/2009
Modified Date:
25/05/2009
Out of sight but not out of Mind.
I have truly neglected this blog over the past month. Part of the problem has been the above painting which I was asked to do by the people on the island of Chuuk (Truk) of Micronesia. This is where my husband (and I on occasion) has spent many hours for many years helping to train the pastors there. Because we are soon going away on vacation for three weeks, I felt it was really necessary to try to do this before we go. It is larger than most of my paintings, (12x 14 inches). So I have spent many, many hours working on it. It is of the Logan Memorial Church on the island, which sadly, is now no more. Barely a hundred years old the church had become unsafe and too costly to repair. The tropics are very destructive to buildings as well as difficult for people to handle. The new church is presently under construction, but things move slowly in the islands.
I have still been faithfully reading the Brid Free Press and want to make a comment on the article about David Hockney. I insist that I am not an artist, (I just copy), so I'm really not qualified to evaluate Hockney's paintings, but I do know what I like and David Hockney's paintings of Yorkshire just really grab me. I love the feelings that they evoke and the reality and simplicity of them. His picture of Cardigan Road is brilliant because with a few strokes, he created a scene that I immediately recognized. I can almost hear the roar of the traffic. I also like the childlike quality of the paintings, by that I mean the style. As I said, I am not an authority, but when you're away from Yorkshire as I am, there is an essential quality about them that everyone from Yorkshire would recognize.
Well that's my two cents' worth. Try to find copies of the paintings on the web, if you can, and see if you agree with me.
Now, since I am going to be away for a few weeks, I have asked my sister, Kay, to be my guest blogger while I'm gone. She came to Flamborough when she was three and has many memories. So thank you, Kay, for getting me off the hook. Hopefully I will return mid June full of inspiration for this blog.
Published Date:
21/05/2009
Modified Date:
21/05/2009
Snippets of Info
Well, we were all bowled (Boyled???) over at the wonderful performance of songstress Susan Boyle on "Britain's Got Talent". My sister is visiting us from Canada and she works a lot on the computer, so she alerted us first to Susan's appearance on the show. It was stunning! I never watch American Idol or other reality shows so I would have missed it altogether if Kay hadn't told me about it. Then as days went by, on several occasions people upon hearing our British accent immediately asked us if we had seen Susan Boyle's performance. In fact there was a half page article about her in our local newspaper.
Then as I continued to read the Brid Free Press, I came upon this little nugget of information: Simon Cowell is the honorary president of Bridlington's RSPCA. I wonder what connection Simon has with Bridlington? I might have missed this piece of information, but I'm a pet lover and I of course read the article about the pet photos contest. Here I was, wondering if I could sneak a photo of my pet, Bailey in next year's contest when I found this information. Bailey is a genuine Snowshoe; sort of taupe colored with four white paws. This breed was designed from the American short-hair breed and Siamese. I didn't get him because he was anything special. My previous cat had just died and I was desperate for another one to replace him and Bailey was the first cat available. He has turned out to be a beautiful cat, though rather large, but exceptionally gentle. If you go to what I call my American blog <flamblogger.blogspot.com> you can see a photo of him there.
Finally, I was glad to read of the rare bird seen at Head Farm, Flamborough, because I also do a little bird watching. We had a new bird in our back garden this week and that is exciting because I don't often see new varieties. It was a female black-headed grosbeak, which I believe is a sub tropical species. That would make sense because we have recently had several days of very hot weather. Temperature records were tumbling all down the Southern California Coast. Unfortunately it (the weather) didn't stay hot too long. We were happy to have some hot weather as we have had a cool spring. The swallows were two weeks late in returning and the flowering trees and shrubs are later this year also.
Kay and I have been sharing photos and books about Flamborough while she is here. We have also been able to acquire some of Leo Walmsley's books about Robin Hood's Bay. So Flamborough is very much in our thoughts this week. What happy memories!
Published Date:
26/04/2009
Modified Date:
26/04/2009
A PLUG FOR THE BRID FREE PRESS
This is an unashamed plug for the Brid Free Press. I love Thursdays because that is when I log into the Free Press and get a whiff of the sea, fish and chips and cotton candy. I especially like the news video that comes with it, because then I can hear a truly good Yorkshire accent. Last week the clip included a bunch of bloopers which made them seem very real and human. Even so, John and Alan, a bit of a smile as you give the news might improve your popularity -- but then I'm used to US news and sometimes with that there's more goofing off than worthwhile news.
I'd love to see a commentary clip about local news, or just comments from the man on the street about Brid news, but I suppose that would put a strain on the budget, and I know newspaper budgets are sorely strained. But people do buy papers if they think they are going to be quoted or appear in a photograph.
I was sorry to hear about Woolworth's demise. It has been an icon for so many years. I worked there one summer and that was more than 50 years ago! There are no Woolworths left over here either. Can't say I'm enamored by the new store's name, "Star Buys". Sounds kind of junky to me -- but that's just my opiniion.
I was walking through the airport in Boise, Idaho last weekend. They must have been playing 50's music. Suddenly Henry Mancini's "Charmaine" came over the speaker and I was transported to the Spa in about 1956/57. Some play by the repertory company was on at the time and the theme music was "Charmaine". It's amazing how our memories can transport us, but it is not just the act of remembering that comes back, but also the emotions of the moment. So here's some advice from an old woman for you young'uns and those with children: Take time to build good memories into your lives. You may never return to that particular time, space and event, but the memories can still keep you warm.
I certainly hope spring has arrived in Yorkshire. This has been a long cool winter for us except for January which was more like June. They promise a beautiful Easter Sunday, so that will be a blessing, Shouldn't Easter be a blessing anyway, no matter what the weather? It is the time for remembering that we have a great future ahead of us, without all the unpleasantness and frustrations of this world. A new Heaven and a new Earth. Surely that is good news for all of us. I wonder what the Free Press would find to print then.
Published Date:
09/04/2009
Modified Date:
09/04/2009