A wide landscape view of Lonsdale, a valley in the North York Moors, and rolling hills under a cloudy sky and into a hazy sun. In the far distance, the view is spoiled by a plume of smoke resulting the the burning of the heather.

A Costly Collop — The Ubiquitous Smoke of Burning Heather

A view south-east, straight into a hazy sun, down Lonsdale and across to Kildale Moor. The scene is, of course, marred by a hibernal plume of smoke from the burning of the heather, because no landscape is complete without an artificial smog. But enough about that.

Today is the penultimate opportunity for carnivorous indulgence before Lent — Collop Monday — when the traditional dish of the day is ‘Collops’ which, for the uninitiated, means slices of ham or bacon, and eggs. Uncannily familiar, is it not? But not the feeble, near-transparent bacon rashers that we eat now, the proper thick cuts, substantial enough to be hung and salted through the fasting season. The fat from cooking these collops would then, in an inspired act of thrift, be used to make pancakes for Shrove Tuesday1Collop Monday. | Yorkshire Evening Post | Monday 03 March 1919 | British Newspaper Archive.

The Rev. J. C. Atkinson, self-appointed guardian of Cleveland’s dialect, has plenty to say about the word ‘collop’. The usual Scandinavian origins are noted, but there is also the suggestion that it stems from ‘clop’ or ‘colp’, imitating the sound of something soft and unappealing landing on a flat surface2Atkinson, Rev. J. C. “A Glossary of the Cleveland Dialect” 1868. JOHN RUSSELL SMITH,SOHO SQUARE.. ‘Onomatopoeia’ is the learned term for such words—‘sizzle’ and ‘cuckoo’ being other examples, in case anyone needed reminding.

Atkinson also records a figurative use of ‘collop’ in Cleveland, where it conveyed notions of expense, distaste, and general misfortune. One might say, “It will be a costly collop to him,” meaning he will regret whatever foolish decision he has made.

Naturally, for the village boys, Collop Monday was not about tradition, fasting, or etymology, but about badgering their elders for treats, whining through some wretched rhyme about Shrovetide and demanding an apple or a dumpling, as though they were entitled to tribute3York Herald, 22 June 1889, NOTES AND QUERIES. Mercifully, that particular custom has died out.


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