Category: North Yorkshire
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The River Leven at Great Ayton
I’ve never seen these on the Leven before. Presumably after trout. A bit pretentious for my liking, in the middle of the village. There’s a difference of opinion as to the original of the name Leven. Both say it’s Celtic. One possibility is ‘llevn’ meaning smooth, or another is ‘Leuan‘, a water-nymph. It’s interesting that…
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“Murder by a Farmer in the North-Riding” (Part 1)
So ran the headlines on the morning of Saturday, 24 October, 1863 in provincial newspapers throughout the country. From Guernsey to Stornaway. Reports were syndicated in those days, often repeating verbatim the same wording. It was a report that I had come across when researching the arsonist vicar post of two days ago. But the…
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St. Botolph’s Church, Carlton-in-Cleveland
I am not religious. In fact, the older I get, the more cynical I become. But I do respect churches. Like any other old buildings, they have a direct connection with the past, many having stood for centuries. A connection to the average folk of the community, not the upper echelons. St. Botolph’s Church in…
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Taking advantage of a nice mild day …
… before the weather comes in again. So out on the bike, the first time this year. I stopped off at the Leven Bridge at Hutton Rudby. One village, two ancient townships separated by a river in a deep cleft. On the west side, Hutton; the ‘ton’ ending indicating that this was an Anglo-Saxon settlement so the…
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Byanna’s Sunday
The sun was being a bit elusive this morning, remaining hidden behind a bank of cloud until I was almost home. A gap through the trees provided this view of the still sleepy village. Tomorrow is the Winter Solstice or Yule, the old pagan celebration. Which means that today, the Sunday before Yule is Byanna’s…
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Red sky in the morning …
A proverb which everyone knows. For sure, bad weather is on the way. Even Shakespeare had it sussed. A verse in his poem ‘Venus and Adonis‘: Once more the ruby-colour’d portal open’d, Which to his speech did honey passage yield; Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken’d Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the…
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Easby Chapel
With a blanket of fog covering the northern North York Moors, today wasn’t a good day for photogenic splendour. So my thoughts turned to the lowlands. I listened last week to a lecture by a University of York professor into medieval church records who revealed that at least eleven plague cemeteries were licensed in 1349…
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River Leven, Stokesley
On my bike today, on the country lanes around the Rountons. I need to go onto the flatlands occasionally to help me appreciate the hills. Stokesley town centre was prone to periodic flooding until the flood diversion scheme was built in the late 70s. 1930 was a particularly bad year I understand. When the river…
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Rounton Grange
On me bike for a low-level ride over the quiet roads west of the A19. The bottom bracket is wobbly so I wanted to avoid any big climbs. Bikes are great when they work, but not as simple as running. I took a detour to see if I could find any remains of Rounton Grange,…
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The Red Poppy
Look, how the Poppies flaunt their red-red flags O’er all yon cornfield,—beauty out of place! So when the angel Peace would bless our race, The demon War, in horrid triumph, drags His gore-stain’d chariot; drums and trumpets sound To nerve the soldier’s arm to burn and slay, And showy banners are unfurl’d alway,— All fitter…