Monday, 17 March 2008

My Town Monday Part 4

A large proportion of my youth was obviously spent at school and most days I still walk past my old school - "The Convent" in order to get to the main part of the town.

The school is at the top of one of the hills in Bishops Stortford called Windhill.
I love this part of the town as it not only houses the school , two churches,the monastery, the Boars head pub (!) but some really old houses.



St Marys was founded by Sisters of St Mary of Namur when they arrived here from Belgium in 1896. their intention was to start a school for Bishop's Stortford's Catholic community .

That same year they acquired Windhill Lodge at the top of Windhill, renamed it St Mary's Convent and opened their school in the same building. There were just nine pupils at the start.

The original building still stands but has since undergone a great deal of alteration helped funded by the Catholic Church. The school opened as a fee paying school.

But not every Catholic family in Bishop's Stortford could afford to pay for their children's education, so in 1909 a mixed school for elementary pupils began at St Mary's for the less well off.

Named St Joseph’s, it first accommodated pupils in two classrooms in what is now the music block, but by 1914 the school had grown so rapidly that a staff of three were teaching 57 children. This is the school that my Mother went to, and now my own two children.

During the First World War, soldiers were billeted in St Mary’s at night and many child evacuees from London were taught here during World War II.

I have very happy memories of school. As a first year, most of the girls underwent "The initiation ceremony" which was instigated mainly by the second year girls.



In the original school building( the red brick building in the photo) was a set of winding, narrow "back stairs" which led to the loft area. The "back stairs" were reknowned to be haunted by the spirit of a troubled Nunn who had apparantly thrown herself off from the top of the building and now patrolled the dreaded back stairs looking for gullible first years to terrorise(!)


The stairs were very dimly lit and cold.There were probably about 5 floors in total. At the very top was a door which led to the gabled loft area. We were "encouraged" to climb all the way to the top of the stairs and when we reached the creepy door with its flaking paint work we had to knock on it- to prove our worth and see if the ghostly Nunn would appear.

I can remember being really scared,and not being able to see a huge amount apart from the door.No one really ventured to this part of the building so it also has a variety of different cobwebs and aged spiders.

Because the door probably housed no more than the hot water tank it made very strange gurgling and hissing noises which added to the fear. It reminded me of a scene from an old black and white film "Jan Eyre" where the violently insane Bertha mason - secret wife of Edward Rochester would escape from the attic of Thornfield manor and wreak havoc.


Myself and two friends started to climb the stairs one cold September morning, giggling with a mixture of nerves, mortal fear and a strange excitement. As we approached the very top we became aware of the silence, the dark and then the strange gurgling noises.

The dreaded door was at the very top of the landing , there were no windows, the air was stale and we were in darkness. I stretched out my hand ( realising that my friends were standing behind me and that I would be the ultimate sacrifical lamb)and quickly knocked three times on the door.

As soon as I had done this the three of us turned and ran down the spiral stairs which were covered in linoleum . Our shoes made clippy clop noises as we scurried down back to safety , screaming as we did so.

When we eventually reached the bottom we felt relieved that we had completed our task, but realised that there were no second year girls around to actually witness our bravery at all - instead they had probably spent their break time laughing about the silly first year girls that they had tricked to go up to the spooky attic.

I never did go all the way up to the very top of the stairs again until just before I left the school some years later but I never did actually ever knock on the door again !

Saturday, 15 March 2008

Grand Prix or Not Grand Prix - that is the question !

It's that time of the year again - the F1 Grand Prix motor racing season - the time of year when my husband becomes infatuated with the TV.

Every thing stops in order to watch skinny men in one piece jump suits racing around a track being paid ridiculous amounts of money.

He will yell at the telly, shout at people to "Pit", criticise their driving and what's more he will stick his fingers in his ears and "La La La" in order to avoid hearing any result of the race on the news - before he has seen it himself.

He cuts out the fixtures when advertised in the paper and keeps it on a notice board in the kitchen.

He knows everything about their cars and can tell you who is in what car and where they are - he would make a fantastic commentator as he is very knowledgable to the point of being a bit of a Grand Prix nerd!

I must admit that I do actually quite like the Grand Prix myself - until I end up having to do everything in the house every weekend whilst he shouts obscenities at the box.

A couple of years ago we went to the South on France on holiday and were lucky enough to visit Monaco - funnily enough when the Grand Prix was on!

Monaco itself is beautiful and for the race weekend it was full of tourists. There were humungous yachts and ships docked in the bay, oozing money - one with a helicopter pad on the back. It was a completely different world to the one we are used to.

Malc had bought tickets for the 4 of us to watch the race. How exciting was my first thought. I imagined that we would have a great view and it was something we hadn't done before. The Royal family of Monaco were at the race , as were a variety of celebrities.

Our tickets led us up a small road , I looked at the ticket - there was no seat number.

"Are we in the right place?" I asked.

"Oh yes we're up here on the bank - we'll have a great view" he said.

The bank was a dried up earth mound - I was wearing a pair of white shorts.

As we tried to clamber up the mound with about 50,000 other people , I suddenly thought , "What the hell are we doing!". We had got there at 1000 and the race didn't start until 1400 so we were stuck. If you got up you would lose your place.

It was packed with people absolutely everywhere - invading people's personal space was the norm it appeared- as you practically had people sitting on your lap.

The hill was actually quite steep and the ground was really soft loose earth.

At one point in time we were all lined up in family order up the bank - Georgie sitting in between Sam's legs, Sam sitting in between mine and me sitting in between Malc's . All the our legs outstretched and aiming down hill.

We soon got to know our "neighbours". We had a 7ft3" African man to our right who must have had sized 16 feet - he was enormous.

To our left we had 3 french guys who were chain smokers. I hate smoking fullstop and was getting really annoyed at them blowing smoke over us.Luckily they moved on.

Every so often the whole family would start to slide down the bank, a bit like the "human avalanche" - it was really slippery. We kept having to pull ourselves up where we could - it was terrible.

If one of us made a sudden movement the whole lot would go - we had to have a co ordinated approach for anyone who was getting pins and needles in their buttocks and needed to move!

On one of our 72 sliding moments down hill, our African friend saved the whole family, when Malc grabbed hold of his big toe which was sticking out of his sandal(Thank God it was just his toe that he grabbed !).

His big toe was about the same size as my foot -huge ! it was very embarassing having your husband Toe wrestle another man but we were very grateful !

In the end we actually did have a good view of the race but it would have been much nicer to have had a dust free seat.

By the time we got back to where we were staying some hours later we were filthy - but as most things we do it was a memorable experience !

I asked the question today - "Why are there no girl racers in the Grand Prix? ( apart from the Dolly birds holding umbrellas and walking up and down)the one unthought sentance in reply was very sexist - "Well it's very physical and you have to wee in the car".

What a load of old rubbish ! I ranted on about how physical child birth was and the fact that my bladder will last longer than Malc's in a test of endurance and I could certainly hold it for a 2 hour race.

I also added the very truthful fact that everyone knows - "Women are much better drivers than men!

So why are there no women race drivers in the Grand Prix? - It's very wrong!

Monday, 10 March 2008

My Town Monday - Part 3

Back to talking about one of the Towns pubs and Bishop's Stortford most famous arsonist - this time the "White Horse Inn " in North Street - sadly the pub is no longer there but instead stands a very nice Pizza Express restaurant complete with old world charm and beams.







On 24th March 1825 a fire was discovered in the early hours of the morning in a downstairs room of the White Horse. Fortunately the flames did not take hold and little damage was done.

But on 4 April, between eleven and twelve that night, the smell of burning alerted the landlord to yet another fire in the same room. Again the flames were extinguished before the fire could cause any real damage.

The fires were obviously the work of an arsonist but no reason could be found as to why the White Horse had been targeted.

Perhaps frustrated by his failed attempts, the following night the culprit turned his attention to a carpenter's shop in Hockerill with more success. The building was burned to the ground, as was an adjoining barn containing corn.

Understandably, the fires caused great alarm in the town, and on 6 April the town crier summoned vestry members to a parish meeting. A committee of eleven worthy citizens was formed and met daily with local magistrates.

They organised a subscription whereby £500 was raised as a reward for information leading to a conviction, and a vigilante commission patrolled the town every night.

No other fires were detected but on 10 April a threatening letter, written on cartridge paper and addressed to Joseph Taylor on the committee, was left at the North Street post office. It read thus:

'Revenge is sweet, we defy your police, or your £500. We are strong – you are weak; if Searle and Dunnage do not come home, Stortford shall be laid in ashes. I am their captain and leader, and we are sworn to revenge. I alone am possessed of a secret to fire any premises at a hundred yards distance, so watch on.'

The letter went on to say that three members of the committee had 'made themselves too busy' and that they would be sent to paradise as soon as possible – meaning they would be killed. Searle and Dunnage were two men from Bridge Street in the town, who had been committed to Hertford Gaol accused of stealing rabbits!

The death threats included in the letter added a new dimension to the drama. With no county police force at that time, the committee summoned the help of investigating officers from Bow Street in London. They immediately questioned family and friends of Searle and Dunnage but concluded they did not have the literacy required to write such a letter.

On 17 April the arsonist struck again, this time at a woollen drapery shop in North Street owned by William Francis. He, his wife and family of six daughters and one son lived above the shop, as did several live-in servants.

In the early hours of the morning, Francis's neighbour, Joseph Bruce, was woken by his daughter who had heard the crackling of fire. Discovering sparks coming from Francis's woodshed in the backyard, he raised the alarm and woke the Francis household.

As he did so he noticed 20 year-old Thomas Rees, the son of William Rees who lived on the other side of the Francis premises, run from an alley dressed only in his trousers and a nightcap. One of Francis's daughters, Sarah, looking from her window to see what the commotion was, also saw Thomas Rees who by now was waving his arms frantically and shouting that her house was on fire.

As William Francis gathered together his family ready to flee to safety a servant at the Star Inn in Bridge Street, George Bush, was already racing to get the fire engine. The Francis family and their servants all escaped unharmed and the fire was quickly extinguished.

During the investigation carried out by the Bow Street officer, J.J. Smith, and members of the committee who had originally summoned his help, it soon became apparent that separate fires had been started within the premises and in outside buildings.

Fortunately, though, the arsonist had proved incompetent at his work. Wheat straw, rosin or turpentine had been used to kindle the fires but because they'd been set in the wrong places they hadn't spread. Had they done so, then the Francis family and their servants could well have been lost in the blaze. In addition to the fire it was also discovered that four silver spoons had been stolen from the kitchen.

The layout of the properties led the investigators to believe that the arsonist must have entered the premises of William Francis from an adjoining property. On the northern side was William Rees, a shoemaker (Thomas's father), and on the south side lived Joseph Bruce, a druggist. Behind, to the east, was the stable of the Star Inn surrounded by an eight foot high wall topped with spikes.

Further investigation revealed that a shed in Rees's backyard abutted the adjoining fence of Mr Francis's backyard, and that a partition of loose boards inside could easily have been removed to allow access between the two properties. Also found at Rees's property were shards of glass similar to that of the outside washhouse that was torched, a large tub of rosin, and fragments of wheat straw. The latter items, however, were commonly used by shoemakers and were not evidence enough to arrest Thomas Rees.

The following evening John Turner, a servant of William Gee, a solicitor, discovered a second letter near the chancel of St Michael's church. It read:

'Devils, tremble: this is only the beginning: before one week is at an end you shall see such things as were never yet seen in Stortford. Devils, believe and tremble: dare you reject our proffered peace! dare you reject our mercy! woe be to three of Stortford! Pray send that lurcher home to his kennel in the lower hells on the back slums: £500 shall never bribe one of us to open our mouths, except it is to chaunt forth – Fire! Fire! Fire! Stortford flames shall reach the sky. N.B. Read, mark, believe, and tremble.'
(The reference to the 'lurcher' was taken to mean the Bow Street officer, and the 'lower hells on the back slums' referred to London)

Prior to John Turner finding the letter, Rees had been seen in the vicinity of St Michael's churchyard. When solicitor William Gee eventually saw the letter, the investigators concluded they now had sufficient evidence to arrest Thomas Rees. He was charged with arson, burglary and issuing threatening letters, and remanded at Hertford Gaol.

At 8am on 14 July at Hertford Summer Assizes, Thomas Rees appeared before Mr Baron Graham to answer the charges. By all accounts Thomas was respectably dressed. A green frock coat with velvet collar was matched with light trousers and striped waistcoat, and around his neck he wore a white cravat, fixed in place by a large brooch. He also wore black gloves and carried a bunch of lavender. His demeanor was calm and relaxed. Messrs Andrews, Broderick and Adolphus appeared for the prosecution, Messrs Jessop, Price and Law for the defence.

As the evidence for the prosecution unfolded, the jury also heard that while Rees had been in Hertford Gaol he had confessed his guilt to a fellow prisoner, Francis Anderson. The two men had subsequently argued, and Anderson later related Rees' confession to the Prison Governor. Rees then approached another prisoner by the name of Carter and tried to bribe him to say that Anderson was lying. Carter refused.

The prosecution then called their witnesses. Elizabeth Sheppherd, servant to Joseph Bruce, the druggist, told how she had been on the way to the privy between ten and eleven o'clock that night and saw Thomas Rees with a ladder dressed only in trousers and wearing a nightcap. When he saw her he said 'I'm looking for a bedfellow, Betsy.' To which she replied rather sharply, 'Then you must find one!'

Mr J.H. Mullinger, printer and stationer of North Street, testified that the watermark on the cartridge paper the letters had been written on was identical to that previously sold by him to Thomas Rees. This evidence meant little though, as such paper was commonly used by shoemakers to produce patterns.

Next up was James Bush, the son of a servant employed at the Star Inn, and John Fowler who worked for Rees's father. Both told of how Rees had told them of the contents of the first letter before it became common knowledge. But this evidence was called into dispute when it was revealed that Thomas Ley, William Gee's clerk, had discussed the letter with Thomas's father. He could not be certain whether Thomas had overheard the conversation.

The trial had lasted almost 13 hours before the judge began his summing up of the facts in detail, and then sent the jury to deliberate. They returned within 10 minutes. When the verdict of not guilty of arson was delivered, Rees fainted and was carried outside by the turnkeys. In his absence, Rees was arraigned on the charge of burglary but then acquitted through lack of evidence. On the third charge of sending threatening letters he was found guilty as charged. The judge pronounced sentence: transportation for life. He was not to hold or inherit or receive any property for the rest of his life.

Rees's two poacher friends at the heart of the incident were also transported after being found guilty of stealing rabbits. They were lucky, though. Francis Anderson, Rees' former cellmate, was sentenced to death for stealing a lamb.

After his conviction Thomas Rees joined other convicts who, at the cost of a shilling (5p) a head, were transported to one of several prison ships, possibly moored on the Thames at Woolwich. A few months later he was transferred to a convict ship and deported to Australia.He led a colourful life there - escaping, marrying , having several children before being recapture and eventually pardoned.



It still remains a mystery as to why Rees started the fires. His threat to burn down the town was never a real possibility but he may have had a grudge against his neighbour, William Francis, and used the other fires to disguise the fact. It's also likely that Rees would have hanged if found guilty of arson, which was a Capital offence. This was made clear to the jury at the start of the trial, so perhaps because they didn't want the death of a young man on their conscience they returned a verdict of not guilty.





Later on in the early 19th century fire insurance company produced ‘firemarks’ – theses were ‘Royal’ insurance plates attached to the exterior of buildings to indicate to fire fighters of the time that these houses were under that company’s cover.There are several houses in the town which still have these today.

Friday, 7 March 2008

Friendship and Family

I've been thinking today of how very lucky I am .

I have a fantastic family and wonderful friends who I love very much . I am also lucky enough to have good health ( -apart from my still aching back !!).

Life could be so much worse and for many people sadly it is.


I found this poem which I think sums up some of my thoughts today - so Thank you Friends, Blog friends and Family for everything !

Thank You, Friend

Thank you, friend, for all the things
That mean so much to me--
For concern and understanding
You give abundantly.

Thanks for listening with your heart;
For cheering me when I'm blue;
For bringing out the best in me;
And just for being you.

Thanks for in-depth conversation
That stimulates my brain;
For silly times we laugh out loud;
For things I can't explain.

For looking past my flaws and faults;
For all the time you spend;
For all the kind things that you do,
Thank you; thank you, friend.





I also received a beautiful bouquet of flowers today from Lyzzy which was a wonderful surprise - Thank you - they are lovely ! x

Wednesday, 5 March 2008

I need a rubber back bone please

I've been hobbling around like an old woman this week having done " I don't know what" to my lower back ( and Yes I know it's only 166 days until I'm 40 and this is the sign of the times).

The only way that I can describe it is like having the top half of my body ( above my waist) balancing on the lower half of my spine but feeling 100 times heavier.A bit like putting a Brick on top of an OXO stock cube.

I wouldn't mind if I had a humongous chest causing this phenomenon - but sadly I don't !!

I've tried to fix my own back and so firstly have rubbed deep heat into it. I'd forgotten how much that stuff stinks !! It's a bit like the smell of TCP - you can instantly smell who is wearing that - one person in the crowd of 1,000 and you can pick them out instantly !

I have swallowed any tablets that I could find in my kitchen medical drawer - even the ones at the back covered in fluff when the foil wrapper has been exposed -but to no avail.


It's amazing how I actually take my back for granted and all the things that it allows me to easily do when working properly - putting on my socks and shoes, bending down ,sitting down , sleeping ,standing, stretching up to get something out of a cupboard, carrying a bag, walking normally and not looking as though my bum cheeks have been glued together!

I was finally convinced to go to the doctor - something which I hate doing.

The doctor has told me that I have either slipped a disc out of line or trapped a nerve and to have a couple of weeks off work !

Although the thought of 2 weeks off work sounds great - I am hoping that my back will sort itself out as quickly as this problem came on and I will get back next week as I have so much on the go that only I can sort out.

I am currently swallowing pain killers given to me by the doctor but I seem to be having weird side effects from them - I am intensely itchy and my face has blotched over - really attractive to go with my old woman stoop!! and I feel intensely tired.

I decided to read the contra indications which are a book in themselves - I have the following possibly to look forward to -

Increased sweating, pain caused by spasm of the bile duct, palpitations ,nose bleeds,urinary system spasms,hallucinations (!)mental dullness (proof in this post!)excitation ( Yippee !)runny nose and skin rash .

So I have a dilemma - do I continue taking these monster sized tablets and suffer even more mental dullness,spotty skin, hallucinations and pee my pants or do I try to find an alternate remedy to get me back up and running??

One of my friends suggested hanging upside down by my ankles ( at least it wasn't by my neck I suppose) but what do I do in the meantime? - Help !!

Oh look - there's a flying sheep wearing a top hat playing a trumpet !

Some one tell me what to do please !!!!!!!!!!!

On a positive note - Dad in ICU is getting better and Sam got his 1st choice of secondary school !!

Monday, 3 March 2008

My Town Monday - Part 2

This week I thought I would write on some of the other "Pubs" in the town and their associated "Spirits!!"

The George Hotel competes with Tissiman's in the High Street for the mantle of oldest building in Bishop’s Stortford – though much of what you see is 17th, 18th and 19th century modernisation. It is, however, the town’s oldest recorded inn and the third oldest in Hertfordshire.




The original foundations were laid down at the end of the 14th century and first mention of the inn was in 1417 when one Thomas Petworth kept it.

Two memorable years in the town’s history were 1629 and 1630, when Charles I ‘dyned at ye George’ and the bells of St Michael’s church rang out to celebrate the fact.

That same century, Charles II rejected the royal palaces at Theobalds and Royston in favour of a move to Newmarket, making Bishop’s Stortford, and in particular the George, a convenient mid-way stop for him and his entourage while journeyings to and from London. Coupled with his love of the Newmarket races the King’s visits were frequent, but he disliked travelling through the busy town centre and hated even more the sight of the ‘cage’ that stood in the road outside the George.

Most small communities had a lock-up, or cage. It was where felons were held for short periods before being brought before a justice or transferred to other secure accommodation, but generally they held drunks who were released as soon as they sobered up.

The term 'cage' is misleading, most early lock-ups being built of wood, rather like a shed, and later versions built of stone and sometimes quite ornate. A bench seat would have been a luxury and sanitation was no more than a bucket.

In 1718, Stortford's cage was moved further along North Street, it stayed here until the 19th century when the Police cells took over.

Up until the early 1900s the inn carried a traditional sign depicting St George and the Dragon, but now shows a portrait of the Hanoverian King George III. This is probably acceptable as he was the first Hanoverian monarch to be born in England.




In common with most old buildings in this area the George is said to be haunted by the ghost of the "Grey Lady". She particularly likes old buildings and has been seen many times.

In "The George" she seems to have a keen interest in room 27, staff and guests in this room having experienced strange noises, doors that open of their own accord and an eerie ‘watchful’ presence.




Sightings of the Grey Lady have also been reported at the Boar’s Head Inn, Tissimans, the Black Lion Inn and Coopers in Bridge Street – the latter building often frequented in the 16th century by the notorious Protestant reformer, Bishop Edward Bonner. In the not so distant past, staff and other workers in the store have experienced ‘bodiless’ footsteps, items mysteriously crashing from shelves, and a ‘terrifying presence’. Strangely, though, there is no knowledge of any shop customers ever being aware of these 'ghostly' goings-on.

When the shop traded under the name of Handscomb's, a figure in grey was regularly seen in an upper room vanishing through a wall, and always in one particular spot. Later alterations to the room, in which plaster was removed from the wall, revealed a blocked up doorway at the same point where the apparition vanished.

Past owner, Peter Maslen, once invited a two-man team from Cambridge University to investigate the strange happenings in the store, who concluded the premises was haunted by two ghosts; one a man who was quite harmless, the other a woman of a violent nature.

In the 1980s the 16th century Cock Inn at Hockerill also went through a phase of mysterious happenings when two 'ghosts' began to appear and disappear very quickly – the landlord’s wife reporting several sightings of a serving wench and a man dressed in Civil War clothing.



Later renovation work within the pub resulted in tables being mysteriously thrown about, lamps being smashed and an unnatural coldness in the air. A suggestion that the ghosts might be upset by the alterations taking place, prompted the landlady to put flowers everywhere and give the place a more homely feel. It certainly seemed to work. The pub quickly returned to normal and the 'ghosts' were never seen or heard again.

A not so well known story, verbally handed down over the years, is of the ghost that regularly paraded the gardens of former Windhill House – which is now a Solicitors. In the early 1800s, when it was feared Napoleon might invade England, a local band of yeomanry was raised under the command of Captain Winter.

As owner of Windhill House, he gave permission for the company of soldiers to camp in the extensive grounds, and one night decided to test the alertness of the sentries on duty. Unfortunately, one sentry was too alert. Not waiting to question the approaching figure, he fired his musket and fatally wounded the Captain.

There is certainly a memorial in St Michael's churchyard dedicated to the memory of a Ralph Winter Esq, who died 8 July 1802, aged 63, but there is no written evidence of the incident!

A Week summed up in a few words!

Work,

Dad in ICU following major operation

More work ,

Mothers Day ( Lovely - Thank you kids x)

Waiting for Secondary school placement results ,

One lower backbone that has decided not to work (mine)

STRESS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!