PDA

View Full Version : Tales from the Black Country


Grm
05-30-2006, 01:46 PM
Do you have Speedway like this?
http://www.shropshirestar.com/show_article.php?aID=45894

Grm
05-30-2006, 01:48 PM
How about cheese rolling?[not the Black Country]
http://www.bbc.co.uk/gloucestershire/entertainment/festivals/cheese_rolling/

Rheostatic
05-30-2006, 05:09 PM
Grm, you'll be happy to hear that news of the cheese rolling festivities made its way to this end of the pond. Saw it on the news this morning. Sort of looks like a (slightly) tamer version of that event where a giant log is slid down a hill and people try to ride it to the bottom.

Grm
06-13-2006, 07:13 AM
Spring-Heeled Jack http://www.bbc.co.uk/legacies/images/local/text_spacer_right.gif
We tend to regard the Victorian era as an age of science and reason, not unlike our own. However, there was another Victorian age, running parallel with this, an age that believed in phrenology (reading fortunes via bumps on the head) and fairies, in ghosts and galvanism, in photographs and séances. And some Victorians, at least, believed in a man called Spring-Heeled Jack.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/legacies/myths_legends/england/black_country/img/body_03.jpg
A different depiction Sightings of Spring-Heeled Jack are recorded across England, from London and Chichester up to Liverpool, but they were especially prevalent in the Black Country, where they peeked in the 1880s. Descriptions of the creature vary, but the salient characteristics were his goatee beard, pointed ears and horns, and flashing, fiery eyes. Illustrations in the popular (and sensationalist) magazines called Penny Dreadfuls, show him as a kind of Hispanic version of the Devil. The one feature that never varied was his ability to jump; to leap over rooftops and across hedges. Such agility always allowed him to terrify his victims and to escape his pursuers. A bounder, indeed.

Jack was up and about in the Black Country, at least from 1855, when he was reputedly seen in Old Hill, leaping from the roof of the Cross Inn onto the roof of a butcher’s shop across the road. This sighting was typical of many, and was invariably followed by a spate of further sightings, until the panic died down. However, after a few months or sometimes years, he returned. There were numerous other sightings at Blackheath in 1877 and again around Dudley and the Acocks Green district of Birmingham in the 1880s. As the Birmingham Post reported in September 1886: “First a young girl, then a man, felt a hand on their shoulder, and turned to see the infernal one with glowing face, bidding them a good evening.”



Words: Chris Upton

More at http://www.bbc.co.uk/legacies/myths_legends/england/black_country/article_1.shtml

gal4
06-13-2006, 07:45 AM
Goethe's poem begins with a young boy being brought to his home by his father. The meaning is somewhat ambiguous, as the word "Hof" has the rather generic meaning of "yard" or "place." ("Platz" is a synonym.) In this case it could mean a "courtyard" or "farmyard" (though "der Bauernhof" is the literal word for a farmyard). The ambiguity about the father's social rank is quite acceptable because any father would have similar feelings about a son (or daughter) so ill and in pain.

The poem begins by giving the impression that the child is simply dying from a strange disease, and is seeing death as a figment of his imagination. As it proceeds, the poem takes an ever darker twist, and it ends with the death of the child.

One story has it that Goethe was visiting a friend when, late one night, a dark figure carrying a bundle in its arms was seen riding past the gate at high speed. The next day Goethe and his friend were told that they had seen a farmer taking his sick son to the doctor. This incident (along with the legend) is said to have been the main inspiration for the poem

Who rides so late, through night and wind?
It is the father, with his child;
He has the young lad in the crook of his arm,
He holds him tight, he keeps him warm

"My son, why do you hide your face so violently?"
"Father, don't you see the Erl King?
The Erl King, with his crown and cape tail?"
"My son, it is a wisp of fog."

"You lovely child, come, go with me!
So many lovely games I will play with you.
Some colorful flowers are by the shore,
My mother has many golden cloths."

"My father, my father, can't you hear,
What the Erl King is whispering to me?"
"Be quiet, stay quiet, my child;
It's just the dry leaves rustling in the wind."

"Fine lad, will you come with me?
My daughters should be waiting for you;
My daughters lead the nightly folk dance,
And cradle, and dance and sing to you."

"My father, My father, can't you see over there?
The Erl King's daughters at that dark place?"
"My son, my son, I see it clearly,
It's just the old willows so grey."

"I love you, your lovely figure entices me;
And if you're not willing, then I will use force."
"My father, my father, he's grabbing hold of me!
The Erl King has done something terrible to me!"

It horrifies the father, he rides swiftly,
He holds in his arms the moaning child.
He arrives at the yard with weariness and urgency.
In his arms, the child was dead.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Der_Erlk%C3%B6nig

I suppose there is a similar legend in all those countries of German Ethnic origin.

Grm
07-19-2006, 04:40 PM
http://fapomatic.com/29/image002.gif

Granddad Shaw was a distinguished looking man and his craggy face was somehow enhanced by

a couple of scars carrying small blackened traces of coal—the result of accidents in the pit.

His favourite seat was a screen—a sort of wooden high backed sofa—alongside the large black-leaded fireplace

The screen was a barrier for him against the fierce draught that whistled in from the back door,

through the scullery and up the chimney—especially in the winter time when a roaring fire would

cause the soot on the back wall of the fireplace to glow in an ever-changing pattern



Occasionally, the soot further up the chimney would turn into a real fire with smoke and sometimes

flames bellowing out from the chimneypot—to the consternation of the adults but always a highlight for us kids

He would often send me on an errand to Wimbush’s shop in Lomeytown to get an ounce of his favourite tobacco.

Not for him the smoothed ready rubbed stuff that came in fancy tins but a very dark brown, almost

black variety that was packed in thin layers and wrapped in silver paper. Each layer was about a pipe full

and had to be rubbed and crushed to just the right consistency

I can’t remember its name except that it included a word that always caused a giggle amongst the kids—SHAG!

He died from complications with pneumonia, well into his seventies; Granny Shaw always claimed that he

contracted it by too much sitting on the cold front steps of the “Swan with two Necks” waiting for opening time

The fact that he smoked all of his adult life and had breathed in a lot of coal dust might just have played some part

He was a bit of a tease and when I was very young he would sit me on the armchair opposite his screen and

say “shall I tell you a story”

.

I would say yes Granddad,

He would say—“shall I begin it”

Yes Granddad

He would say—“thatâ₠¬â„¢s all that’s in it”



He caught me every time!





Her House

Although a traditional terraced house, built in the late 19th century, it was unusual.

It was built on the corner of the lane with the main room, the living room, having two outside walls,

The walls were built at an angle of about 120 degrees so that the room was an unusual shape and very spacious

It also had windows in both the outside walls, looking out on to Silverthorne lane, so that as well as being large

it was also light and airy

It also had two other unusual features for houses built at that time:

A built-in scullery, rather than one built in an outhouse, and a front door that opened into a hall rather than

opening directly into a room, the hall led into a stairway that separated the living room from the sitting room

The living room was well furnished, including a piano, and the youngest daughter Eadie was a self-taught but

accomplished pianist

gal4
07-21-2006, 12:05 AM
The following is a pix of my great grandfather from Estonia. No use giving his name here, you all cannot pronounce it. Was a farmer, a tanner, and a shoe and boot maker.

Never like Russians much, but fought in WW II, and came home. Never talked much about the war.
My mother said that he was persoally decorated by Stalin for bravery.
But he never displayed that medal.
One day, when it became apparent that the days when he could get about on his own was at an end and he would need help, he took a boat, sailed out on the sea, and never returned.

http://fapomatic.com/thumbs/29/16_28.jpg

Grm
07-26-2006, 03:28 PM
Hp sauce has the houses of parliment on its lable, its always been made in Birmingham until The US brand Heinz bought the company.
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/west_midlands/5011360.stm