Category: Roseberry Topping
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The Light: Conspiracy Bile Delivered Direct to Your Letterbox
There I was, about to embark on my virtuous trek up Roseberry Topping, coat in hand, when a free newspaper crashed through the letterbox like an unwelcome guest. A relic of a bygone era, I thought, since such things had ceased to grace my street years ago. Still, the design carried a whiff of credibility,…
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An Unofficial Path Gets Official Attention
Ah, one for the history books. Last year, the main path up Roseberryâs eastern flank was given a facelift, and now it is this desire pathâs turn. The one by the fence that skirts the hillâs south-east side, linking the Cleveland Way with the Folly Field. The upgrade might happen this year, or perhaps nextâwhat…
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Tudor Christmas: Twelve Days of Saints and Swans
Up at an unholy hour to climb up Roseberry Topping and watch the sunrise. We were not alone. The place was packed, because apparently nothing says âChristmas spiritâ like elbowing strangers on a hilltop. In Tudor times, you would not have found the masses up here. They would have been at Mass, fulfilling their religious…
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A Slog up Roseberry Topping and a Nod to Pagan Roots
I could claim it was a brisk dash up Roseberry Topping this morning, but in truth, it was more of a plodding trudge. Perhaps it only felt that way because I foolishly dressed for winter, not realising it would be unseasonably warm for Christmas Eve. This is the view from the summit, looking down on…
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Aâ Thomasing: A Quaint Custom for St. Thomas Day
Yesterday was St. Thomas Eve, or so I gather from the indisputable evidence of my own post about it. Naturally, this means today, 21 December, must be St. Thomas Dayâa grand occasion for destitute medieval widows, who marked the day by going âaâ Thomasing.â That is, begging for alms. In some places, it was called…
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Roseberry In the Golden Hour
Roseberry was looking its usual self this morning as we trudged up Aireyholme Lane, the sun just beginning its obligatory climb over the Cleveland Hills. From this angle, Roseberryâs distinctive shape is rather less obvious. High above, a waning gibbous moon lingered sulkily in the sky, and the early morning sunlightâin what us self-important photographers…
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Falling Rocks: One from Space, One from a Chopper?
On this day in 1795, a meteorite made an unscheduled stop in Wold Newton in the East Riding, thrilling a ploughman who narrowly avoided being flattened. Witnesses reported a dark object streaking through the sky before slamming into the earth, leaving a crater nearly a metre wide. It punched through 300 mm of soil, embedding…
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A Mild Christmas and Damnable Corsets: A Hundred Years Ago in Yorkshire
A sunny Roseberry loiters under a moody grey cloud, creating a scene that could make even the most indifferent observer take out their iPhone. Light and shadow play their parts, flaunting a contrast that seems to suggest nature itself has a flair for the dramatic. But exactly one hundred years ago, the 9th of December…
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Roseberryâs Kissing Oaks
When two tree trunks or branches rub against one another long enough to wear away their bark and expose the cambium â the cellular plant tissue â they sometimes fuse into a single entity, forming what is charmingly called a natural graft. This process, termed âinosculation,â is derived from the Latin for âto kiss,â as…
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The Timeless Elegance of a Spray-Painted Phallus
This brilliant display of human ingenuityâsprayed haphazardly onto the ancient rock face on Roseberry Toppingâis truly a sight to behold. The âartist,â undoubtedly a revolutionary thinker of his age and who clearly imagines himselfâundoubtedly masculine, of courseâas the Teesside Banksy, has chosen this timeless canvas to bless us with his daring vision. The frantic scrawls…