Friday 28 January 2011

Barum's Golden Age of Steam. Pishty coff pishty coff


This is a little gem of historic film that I came across in the library the other afternoon. To bide me time on a winters afternoon now that lambing has gone quiet for the time being and I find meself between lambing sheds, I have decided to embark upon a little side project researching the history of railways in North Devon.
If you take a look at the film you can see that compared with today's sorry state of Barum as a terminus in the olden days the town was a thriving railway junction. Not quite Crewe or Clapham  I grant you, but still a vibrant hub for trains  and services coming and going from all over the place. Daily they would  head off in a loop down to Cornwall via Bideford, Torrington and the clay pits. Jolly holidaymakers would then come hurtling down from Birmingham and London on the Atlantic Coast Express' heading on out to 'Combeconversely, rabbits, milk and produce would be heading up the other way to grace the shelves of grocers shops and the dining tables of the big cities. Mail trains came up from Exeter and also skirted the Moor from Taunton and earlier still a little loco puffed it's way out to Lynton and back. The remains of the latter are still visible at Chelfham Mill Viaduct, Blackmoor Gate Station Inn and Woody Bay where part of the track has been relaid and is now a major tourist attraction. Some say that down on the old lines you can still hear the sound of old engines and locos whistling in the wind and discern the rattle of rolling stock shunting by with the cries and cheers of long gone holidaymakers echoing across the estuary. At least that's what a couple of the lads down at the Angling Club reckon.
As the film ably illustrates there really was a golden age of rail in the area and I reckon it's passing is made even sadder by the rather decrepit state of our current and now somewhat singular service on the Tarka Line, where you can pay a small bleddy fortune to sit in a box on a rickety trolley next to an open sewer all in a journey time which Tarka himself could have probably beaten by swimming up to Exeter.

I have to admit, as is often the case I know, I know, to having something of a  personal interest in the subject as believe it or not I happen to inhabit one of the old workers shacks down on Ashford Strand that the Squire bought of the British railways Board back in the 70's. If the film was to continue for another couple of miles or so you may have been able to see the small huddle of hovels which consist my current abode.  Also my great Granfer, who funilly enough was called Ivor, was a sometime employee of the London and South Railway Company and he lived for many years in one of them railwayman's cottages which were pulled down a few years ago now to make way for the B&Q/Maplins car park. He lived right next door to the coal wagons and behind that tidy cottage where the old boy always had a sign out offering budgies for sale. In the film you can see a couple of rather proud and officious looking railwayman but I don't reckon he was one of them, more than likely he would have been one of the boys lazing on the bogey towards the end of the film as he's job was to walk the line banging the track with a great big mallet to see whether it's integrity was sound or not. He was the linesman for the county. Of course these blokes may not be working at all more than likely they are early members of that illustrious Barnstaple guild, the Honorable Company of Gawpers, Jabberers and Spade Leaners. Although given their location they could be predecessors of my own club the Taw Bridge and Tarka Trail Angling and Drinking Club.
As the film draws to end you can just make out two little tackers scrambling up the river bank to have a look at what's going on. Funny thing is, fifty odd years later you would have seen Me and Ian Stokey doing exactly the same thing, clambering up the bank to show our backsides at the passing train or to retrieve our squashed halfpennies from the track. Back then it gave us a brief moment of excitement before we returned to our hapless endeavour of fishing for flooks as more often than the not the only things we caught on our traces was a line of rubber johnnies. Happy days.
What also strikes me about this film is that in 1898 Barnstaple was party to such cinematic innovation and seeing the quality of the stock that remains it must have been quite something. People always think of the place as a bit of a backwater but evidently back then it was warming itself at the hearth of the white heat of technology.
Harping  back to today's rail service between Barnstaple and Exeter I have to remark that fair's fair, First Great Western do enebtually seem to be addressing the needs of the passengers in the area. Not least with their introduction of the late night service which not only means that you now no longer have to leave London in the middle of the afternoon on a Friday to be sure of getting down here for a bit of supper but more's the point it means that us local folk can now travel up to Exeter of an evening to sample a bit of culture and still manage to get a train back home again that very same day. Bleddy perceptive management that was! I don't know what brainstorming session threw that one up but it was bleddy inspired.
Annie Corwood and I have booked our tickets for Holiday on Ice's Energia show at the Westpoint Arena in a couple of weeks time which we are both very much looking forward to.

Monday 24 January 2011

People of Ilfracombe stunned by A list celebrity.....

It come to pass that quite a a stir was caused down at 'Combe one afternoon last week when some of the more eager eyed of the townsfolk, obviously those without inherent sight defects, spotted an eye-catching green, gold and white flying machine circling over the town which it transpired after much excited pointing up into the skies turned about to be a helicopter. Not just any ordinary old whirly bird but one decked out in Harrod's distinctive livery. Who was this flying into town? Speculation was soon rife amongst local people as to the identity of who was on board. As the aircraft touched down up by the football club and it had Harrods painted on the side early signs indicated that it may be Mohammed Al-Fayed dropping by to take a look at Ilfracombe Town FC to see whether it would be a viable addition to his footballing investment portfolio. Sadly no.
Tim Burton stuns 'Combe

Thanks to the phenomenal power of modernn day communications , the passenger's identity was  revealed only a matter of a  few hours later by which time the helicopter had unfortunately departed, leaving many locals disappointed that they had missed out on a once in a lifetime chance to meet their idol who turned out to be none other than the famous American film director Tim Burton
One local resident could barely hide hide his disappointment, "I was so gutted that Tim Burton was in my town today and I didn't even get to catch a glimpse of him! I wrote my dissertation for my degree on his films and have been an avid fan of his ever since I first watched Edward Scissorhands. But nobody knew he was coming to Ilfracombe-it was such a shock...we don't get many famous folk round these parts! I suppose he has to keep it quiet or he would be swamped with fans."
The poor fellow was obviously stunned by the brevity of the visit by the director of Mars Attacks
The next morning I was listening to Judi Spiers on Radio Devon and news of Mr Burtons flying jaunt had obviously reached Plymouth as she had sent one of her cohorts up to Ilfracombe to gauge local opinion and once again the town seemed rather shell shocked several people were reported to have been rather dismayed that the town was unable to provide the illustrious visitor with some good old 'Coombe hospitality at least he would have been able to sample some local fare, a great big bag of chips and a few pints of warm Fosters on the Quay which most visitors seem to be highly contented with. A Mr Terry Loosemore who runs a stretch limo business in the town told the reporter that had he known he would have laid on one of his vehicles so that Mr Burton could take a turn along the sea front while standing up out of the sun roof to greet the waiting crowds which surely would have been anticipated had his visit been made public. Another anonymous citizen  evidently high as a kite on something cackled into the mike that she had received a dvd of Alice in Wonderland for christmas which the whole family had watched on her little boys new xbox. Rather bizarely she was of the opinion that Mr Burton's other half the actress Helena Bonham Carter actually lived in the town as she had seen her or rather the Queen of Hearts around on a number of occasions over the past few weeks.
Ilfracombe resident?

Back in the studio Judi was able to provide the people of Devon with some solace as apparently all is not lost, and the young fan and his good neighbours may well still be in with a chance of spotting Burton in the flesh in the near future. For, if local rumour is to be believed he was checking out various locations in North Devon as possible settings for his latest film Dark Shadows which Judi informed us is a remake of a sixties vampire TV series and is set to star Johnny Depp. Who'd have thought it.  I for one can't wait as I love a bit of American Gothic ever since my great Uncle Hedley who was book learned used to sit us down and read us all sorts of it. I remember one The Raven a few lines of which still sends shivers down me spine on dark nights down on the Strand. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore. Oh Lenore!

Sunday 23 January 2011

Olive Bennett R.I.P Film update

I was very sad to hear of the passing of Ms Bennett. I always love this photo of Mr Ravilious's. I tore it out of his book, the one I gave the Old Boy for his 80th. I stuck it in a frame and have had it up on my wall for a few years now. It always makes me laugh. Lovely maid.

Here is a little piece they put in the Journal about her.

STRONG: Olive Bennett and her Red Devon cows.  Image by James Ravilious for the Beaford Archive © Beaford Arts.
THE FARMING community has lost one of its most colourful characters with the death of Olive Bennett.
A farmer all her life she died peacefully on December 23 at the age of 68.
She was once photographed by James Ravilious and her picture is part of his extensive pictorial record of rural life.
She was born on March 29, 1942, at Cuppers Piece, Beaford, where her parents, Cyril and Beatrice Bennett, ran a farm.

I have just received a link for a film about Olive and the impending visit of the man from the ministry.
Take a look and see what a true North Devon character she was

http://www.filmannex.com/movie/film/22305/olive

Thanks for that Anson

Saturday 15 January 2011

God bless the Severn Sands and all who sailed in her

The Severn Sands and former skipper
It is with a hint of sadness that I have to report the demise of HMSD* Severn Sands the last vestiges of this fine vessel have been removed, all six hundred tons of them, from her final mooring place at Yelland and are now probably on their way in some rusting old tub to the scrapyards of India or China. To my mind this is a crying shame as with a little imagination a lot more could have been done to preserve this emblem of Barum's illustrious maritime past. Lest yee forget it was ships and men from the town that opened up the Newfoundland fisheries, bought tobacco back from Virginia and the Antilles by the hundreds of ton, sent men of war out to singe the King of Spain's beard, protected the channel from barbary coast pirates, supplied the Pilgrim Fathers and hounded the French at any given opportunity. I think it's ultimate owner  Mad Dog Murray the elder from South Molton was on the right track when he put forward his plans to restore the craft and have her fitted out as either a nightclub casino or  floating maritime museum. I think the latter was a bleddy good idea as I never ceased to be amazed by how little folk know about Barum's role as a seaport during the centuries of adventure and early exploration upon the high seas. Yes, all kids are told of the ships that went with Drake to fight the Armada but the town's role as a trading port in the early days of empire are forgotten by today's citizens. The fine buildings that remain in the town from this era are a testament to the wealth generated from such mercantile activities. Infact. it can be said that much of Barum is built on the back of beaver pelts and sheep fleeces going backwards and forwards across the Atlantic and cod oh and loads of loot captured from the French and Spanish by our counties noble privateers.
When the Severn Sands was first moored at Fremington Quay I chanced upon the scene as I was walking over from Penhill and looking down on the Quay from up there the ship looked quite majestic tied up there and really complimented the setting. Of course back then, in the charge of another owner, she was in the process of having a lick of paint and seemed to have a skeleton crew on board to ward off vandals i.e kids. To say as a disproportionate vocal few especially one self promoting Fremington Councilor who shall remain nameless did that she was an eyesore was completely wrong and an opinion which to go by the amount of interest her presence on the quayside generated, loads of folk turned up to have a gawp chatting with the crew and photos being taken, was not shared by as many as some would have you believe. I took the old boy down there one afternoon and he was waxing lyrical to all and sundry about his days in the merchant marine and eventually they hauled him on board to look at the engine room. This put his mind for days after to estimating the scrap value of what was apparently a marvelous piece of machinery.

However when the ship broke loose from this mooring after a winter storm and drifted across the harbour and found itself beached on Penhill point things started to go downhill. This situation created more ammunition for her detractors, the crew left and as the vandals clambered on board and wreckers stripped her clean. Whoever made off with the propeller undoubtedly found themselves a bob or two better off. Funny enough this coincided with the time that the Old Boy got new tyres for the 4x4. I still reckon he must have had something to do with it. Whatever, I never saw a penny of it. From this time the ship was doomed. Stories surfaced about her containing hazardous chemical waste, which considering she was a Bristol Channel sand dredger do seem a little exaggerated. Anyway, after a high spring tide the Severn Sands was lifted off the beach and embarked on her final haphazard journey, drifting this way and that way out in the estuary at one point her course seemed set for a collision with the Taw Bridge as the tide carried her upstream. To go by the crowds that gathered along the shoreline even in this rather sorry and dilapidated state the by now infamous vessel was still capable of generating a fair bit of interest and her drifting in the doldrums of the Taw estuary even made Spotlight Southwest. I guess in spite of everything us Devon folk still have a sense of the sea innately imprinted in our DNA. Eventually, once a tug managed to get a line on board she was manouevered to Ashford Strand, my neck of the woods, where once more she became something of a visitor attraction.  She was now bought to the attention of assorted agencies and once Mad Dog relinquished his ownership of the ship it was determined that she could serve no further purpose and would be broken up. So that was that.
As I say this is a sorry indictment of the fact that with a little imagination so much more could have done to preserve our maritime past and this along with so called cleaning up of Rolles Quay where all the historic sand barges were summarily destroyed and the so-called redevelopment of RGB's wharf illustrates the fact that in Brnstaple we tend to turn our backs to the river and the sea whereas in Bideford they remain proud to embrace them. I suppose one reason for this is that Bideford being built up as it is, high up over the banks of the River Torridge the good people of the town probably reckon  that at any given moment an act of god could tip them all into it.

* Her Majesty's Sand Dredger