Give Thanks to the Book of Trespass

Give Thanks to the Book of Trespass

When you’re walking footloose and fancy-free

Along some seemingly ancient footpath,

Checking your progress on the OS map,

Senses working XTC overtime,

(Apophenia! You’re part of it all! Just look at the view!)

It’s hard to remember that this feeling

Is legal in only eight per cent

Of William Blake’s green and pleasant land.

We have been enclosed by enclosure.

That’s why our footpaths are so circumscribed:

These are not footpaths to high sky freedom,

But meanders into false consciousness

And beguiling illusions of liberty:

Pilgrims’ Progress to Herbert Marcuse’s

Conception of Repressive Tolerance,

And Robert Frost’s poem, ‘The Road Not Taken’.

We look ahead and become accustomed

To the hedges, fences, walls and barbed wire.

It all seems so normal and timeless.

We forget John Clare when near a hedgerow.

And we forget the western cowboy plains,

The industrialised warfare of the western front,

And the colonial subjugation

Symbolised by the silhouette

Of barbed wire stretching into the distance.

It was called No Man’s Land in the First World War.

That land between the lines of barbed wire.

For King and Country.

Well, eight per cent of it.

‘If you want the old battalion,

I know where they are, I know where they are, I know where they are,

If you want to find the old battalion, I know where they are,

They’re hanging on the old barbed wire,

I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.

I’ve seen ’em, I’ve seen ’em, hanging on the old barbed wire.’

 

Written after reading The Book of Trespass by Nick Hayes – inspiring! Totally recommended.

 

Walking the Wall

Walking the Wall from Walbridge to Brimscombe

In the early years of the twentieth century,

A jingoistic electoral cry appeared:

‘We want eight and we won’t wait!’

(The eight being dreadnoughts or battleships),

Well, we waited at Walbridge for a bit

And almost numbered eight before setting forth,

Not as battleships but as messengers of peace,

In an act of global solidarity:

‘Walking the Wall for Palestine’,

With a cold-wind call for Palestinian rights

And a snow-swept local contribution

To the demand for an end to Israel’s war on Gaza.

Our walk conjoined our local landscapes

With echoes of those of Palestine:

We stood beneath the railway viaduct,

Imagining the Separation Wall,

Eight metres high in places,

750 kilometres in length,

Cutting its way deep into the West Bank,

Preventing access to land,

Preventing freedom of movement:

The dystopia of concrete panels,

Electric fences, razor wire, watch towers …

The Apartheid Wall …

The Separation Barrier …

The Security Fence …

We then climbed up through a ghost orchard,

And through the palimpsests of allotments,

Hearing how the right to cultivate

In Palestine is oft times stolen

Through sleight of legal hand,

Legerdemain or worse

(Dissonance in the landscape);

Thence to Rodborough Fort,

Contrasting the memories of camping

For spacious recreation in the field over the wall,

With the imagining of overcrowding

In the refugee camps near Bethlehem …

Dissonance in the landscape …

We then stopped at the so-called Lonely Tree:

Conjoining the status of Rodborough Common

As a Site of Scientific Interest,

With the Israeli practice

Of defining some landscapes as nature reserves,

With consequent eviction of inhabitants

(Dissonance in the landscape) …

And as we stood high in the biting wind,

We caught Theresa’s words in the gusts:

‘Imagine every hilltop with a military or fenced community that starts off as one or two caravans … illegal settlement under international law … Israel provides military protection, settler-only roads, water and electricity …Flags fly from these houses. Palestinians nearby have lost the use of land, face harassment and interference in their daily lives. For example, theft of sheep and goats, worrying with dogs, destruction of wells, chopping down of olive groves etc.’

But we walked on to Winstone’s Ice Cream Factory:

No checkpoints for us or checking of papers,

As we reflected on the difficulties

Palestinians often face

When trying to run cafes and restaurants,

When trying to maintain family ownership

Through the generations and such length of time,

Unlike the ice cream parlour here at Winstone’s,

With its easy and lauded continuity …

Once more, a dissonance in the landscape.

We then made an aqueous descent

To the River Frome and the canal,

Running water everywhere around us,

While we listened to a discourse

Analysing and describing

The punitive inequality

Evidenced in the supply of water and

Its storage, distribution and usage …

I stood on the canal bridge and pondered …

So much of our discussion and peregrination

Had revolved around those fundamental

Half-mythologised four elements:

Fire air, earth and water …

And how on our walk we had enjoyed

The elemental magic of Rodborough Common’s skyscape:

As opposed to elemental appropriation

In far-off but now-conjoined Palestine.

It was a walk with echoes and dissonance:

A topography of limned discordance.

Saddened but wiser, I walked to the Long Table

For a communal bite to eat

And a sharing of thoughts and emotions.

I walked back to Stroud along the towpath,

Flag sodden, but still flying a message of hope.

 

This is by necessity a linear account. This account misses out so much as it pursues the linear path of our progress– the conversation about the hearts etched outside the subscription rooms … the woman who met us in the fields with such delight … the sharing of hearts and minds … the warmth of commonality and solidarity … the sense of purpose … I could go on and on … a memorable morning.

March 2nd 2024: Walbridge to the Long Table, Brimscombe.

 

Walking with Charles Dickens

Stickin’ with Dickens by Katie McCue: No Deviations

Stickin’ with Dickens-

In happy anticipation I stepped on to the platform at Paddington station with my two companions.
I was ready and more than willing to put myself in the very capable hands of Stuart Butler to be led on a Dickensian adventure for the day.

What a day! Stuart led us down streets and lanes I didn’t know existed or had paid very little attention to in the past. Fact and fiction blurred beautifully  as we gazed up at the windows of a house Dickens lived in before the Thames was tamed, when its banks were but a stones throw from the house. The river where Gaffer Hexham and his daughter Lizzie rowed in their boat searching out floating corpses to rob in Our Mutual Friend.  That same river where Martha in David Copperfield thought to drown herself.

As we talked and walked on, in my own mind’s eye, I was transforming people into Dickensian folk. It wasn’t hard to do. London’s noise and bustle; workers and walkers, dandies and down-and-outs were everywhere. As my companion said he was always telling people how relevant Dickens is for today. Right on cue, just as Stuart was telling us how Dickens would take the plunge at the Roman Baths we stood before, there huddled in front if its very gate were three homeless people. A Dickensian and sadly 21st century scene before us. One of the men called out to Stuart “Thank you Boss,” as we exchanged greetings. The young woman called out as we headed off “I was only at school for 5 minutes and now I’ve had an education. …….Dickens….I heard all  that” .

As we took to The Strand the pleasing sight of St.Mary’s was ahead of us. I could positively feel Dickens senior newly wed leaving the church when Charles was yet a twinkle in their eye.

Fact and fiction continued to blur gloriously as we stood in front of the lodgings where Pip and the pale young gentleman Herbert Pocket seem to look down at us.
The Old Curiosity shop stood empty…..but was that Little Dorrit hurrying around the corner?

Stuart led us on to Lincoln’s Inn and we spent time remembering Bleak House in which the hearings about the inheritance were held. We remembered too the reality of the undercroft at the chapel next door where babies were left in the hope of being looked after. Stuart told my companion and me how those lucky babies who survived their abandonment were all given the surname Lincoln.

…..but I’m ahead of myself. What fun it was to enter the darkness of Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese in Fleet Street. The dark wood of the interior enfolded us as we stepped into the bar. I sat where I decided Charles Dickens would have chosen. A settle in the corner almost behind the door facing the roaring fire with heaps of old ash spilling out of the grate. A seat from which to watch those who entered whilst being unobserved myself. A place to consider the potential of each customer as a possible character….yes…surely Dickens would have done this as he drank ale or wine or porter in this very seat.

My account is in no way complete but these are my own “Sketches” of the day. It was wonderful and I can’t resist by ending with a favourite saying of Joe Gargery in Great Expectations: “ Pip old chap…….you and me was ever friends and when you’re well enough to go out for a ride what larks!”

I encourage you all to enjoy a day in Dickens’ London with Stuart Butler for larks of your own.

PS

James has just messaged to say that his son, who is in San Francisco, has just messaged him, describing the homelessness there as Dickensian.

A Ghost Pub Pilgrimage

A Ghost Pub Pilgrimage through Stroud and the Five Valleys
Raising funds for the Trussell Trust in September

Walk and/or bicycle your way through this list of pubs.
Tick them off.
Keep a diary or a record if you wish.
Take photos for the archive.

Let these pub names and addresses
Come alive again
(‘Have another?’
‘I don’t mind if I do.’)
And help us all out in these hard times;
Let’s find them and toast them with imaginary pints
On a series of Ghost Pub Pilgrimages on foot or on bicycle,
And if you know of any other ghost pubs or inns,
Please send them in …

Do the list in any order.
On your own and/or in a group.
And raise funds in any way you wish for the Trussell Trust.

Perhaps you have personal or family memories
Of old times spent in some of these inns:
Got stories to tell? Please send them in.
Perhaps draw pub sign for these lost gathering places,
Or perhaps write a poem about the pub name,
Or have a group rendition of The Listeners by Walter de la Mere.

With thanks to Geoff Sandles
and his invaluable and necessary
Stroud Valley Pubs Through Time
And his wonderful website
https://www.gloucestershirepubs.co.uk/
And Pubs of the Old Stroud Brewery,
By Wilfred Merrett

Painswick
Adam & Eve, Paradise, (formerly The Plough Inn), A46
The Bell, (bombed 1941) Bell Street
Bunch of Grapes, Cheltenham Road
Cross Hands, Stammages Lane
Fleece Inn, Bisley Street
Golden Heart, Tibbiwell Street
New Inn, St Mary’s Street
Red Lion
Star Inn, Gloucester Street
White Horse, Vicarage Street

A Ghost Pub Pilgrimage through Stroud and the Five Valleys
Raising funds for the Trussell Trust in September

Walk and/or bicycle your way through this list of pubs.
Tick them off.
Keep a diary or a record if you wish.
Take photos for the archive.

Let these pub names and addresses
Come alive again
(‘Have another?’
‘I don’t mind if I do.’)
And help us all out in these hard times;
Let’s find them and toast them with imaginary pints
On a series of Ghost Pub Pilgrimages on foot or on bicycle,
And if you know of any other ghost pubs or inns,
Please send them in …

Do the list in any order.
On your own and/or in a group.
And raise funds in any way you wish for the Trussell Trust.

Perhaps you have personal or family memories
Of old times spent in some of these inns:
Got stories to tell? Please send them in.
Perhaps draw pub sign for these lost gathering places,
Or perhaps write a poem about the pub name,
Or have a group rendition of The Listeners by Walter de la Mere.

With thanks to Geoff Sandles
and his invaluable and necessary
Stroud Valley Pubs Through Time
And his wonderful website
https://www.gloucestershirepubs.co.uk/
And Pubs of the Old Stroud Brewery,
By Wilfred Merrett

Painswick
Adam & Eve, Paradise, (formerly The Plough Inn), A46
The Bell, (bombed 1941) Bell Street
Bunch of Grapes, Cheltenham Road
Cross Hands, Stammages Lane
Fleece Inn, Bisley Street
Golden Heart, Tibbiwell Street
New Inn, St Mary’s Street
Red Lion
Star Inn, Gloucester Street
White Horse, Vicarage Street

Sheepscombe
Crown Inn (now private residence: Church Orchard SO 892104)

Pitchcombe
Eagle Inn (now Eagle Cottage), A46

Ruscombe
George Browning’s off-licence

STROUD
Walbridge
Anchor Inn/Linton Inn, Anchor Terrace
The Bell,
Kings Arms, (Butts site), Lower George
Ship Inn/Ship and Anchor, Walbridge

Lightpill
The Cyprus Inn, Bath Road
Fleece Inn
Kite’s Nest, Bath Road

Bowbridge
Canal Tavern
New Inn

Dudbridge
Bridge Inn
Railway Inn , Dudbridge Road
Victoria Tap

Cainscross
Alpine Lodge (The Stratford) Stratford Road
Clothiers Arms
Hope Inn, Cainscross Road
White Horse Inn, Westward Road
White Lion, High Street
Henry Robbins & Son, Cider Licence (off sales)
Alfred Cratchley’s off-licence (Godsells Brewery)
Mrs Haden’s Off-licence

Paganhill
Stag & Hounds
Spring Inn, Paganhill Lane (now called Spring House – residential)

Cashes Green
Gardeners Rest, Harper Road

Ebley
Bell Inn, Ebley Wharf, Stroudwater Canal (by Oil Mills Lane)
Coach & Horses 260 Westward Road
Lamb Inn, Westward Road
Old Crown, Chapel Lane SO 827048
Malakoff Inn, Westward Road

Whiteshill
Star Inn, Star Green
Bird in Hand, on the road to Edge: now residential Bird in Hand Cottage SO839082
Bell Inn, Bell Pitch (now residential Bell House) SO 840072, Woodcutters Arms

In Town
The Railway Station
The Imperial.

Russell Street
Bricklayers Arms
Foresters Arms (just up from the Railway Hotel)
Railway Hotel

Gloucester Street
Masons Arms
Ye Old Painswick Inn

King Street
Chequers Inn
Golden Heart (junction of Oxfam and the betting shop in Stroud. In the 19th century, the Golden Heart had a skittle alley, and the famous Chartist, Henry Vincent, spoke near there before the Selsley Hill mass meeting in 1839.
The Greyhound; Green Dragon 43 King Street
Kings Arms
Royal George Hotel

High Street
Corn Exchange Hotel (45 High Street)
Dolphin
George Inn,
Nelson Inn 46/47 High Street.

George Street
Post Office Inn
Woolpack Inn

John Street
True Briton

The Shambles
Butchers Arms/Corn Hall Hotel

Union Street
Market Tavern
Plough Inn
Swan Inn
Union Street
Union Inn (The Pelican – Market Tavern)

London Road
Sundial Inn

Near the Cross at the top of the High Street
Bedford Arms
Kings Head
The Lamb
Corn Exchange
The Crown
Orange Tree, (Hill Street?)
White Hart

Nelson Street
New George
New George Inn/Horseshoes Inn
Rising Sun
Wellington Arms

Acre Street area
Butchers Arms, 42 Acre Street
Cross Keys
Chapel Street off-licence
White Horse, Old Chapel Street
Swann Inn, Old Chapel Street

Parliament Street and beyond
Butchers Arms, Parliament Street
Cross Hands
Half Moon Inn, 62 Hill Street
Leopard Inn (stood just below Cotswold Playhouse)
New Inn, Silver Street (now Parliament Street)
Star in Tower Hill, Parliament Street
Oddfellows Arms, Summer Street
Red Lion Inn (Summer Street)
Middle Street off-licence
New Inn, Lower Street
Star Inn, Tower Street (prob near Orange Tree)
Weavers Arms, Meeting Street

Bisley Road
Target Inn
Spread Eagle, Bisley Old Road (north side – demolished 60’s part of road widening)
The Bisley House.

The Leazes
Globe Inn, Lower Leazes
Horse and Groom, Upper Leazes.

Slad Road
Prince of Wales

Callowell
Plough Inn (just to the north of Callowell Farm).

Rodborough
The Lamb Inn, Butterrow Hill
Princess Royal, Butterrow
Off-licence, Spillmans
Woolpack, Inn (Woolpack Cottage), Butterrow
Golden Cross Inn, Bath Road
Boot Inn, The Street, Kingscourt, SO 845033
Nags Head, Bowl Hill, Kingscourt (just possible to read the name), Golden Fleece, The Butts
Edward Barradine’s off-licence (Spillmans Pitch?)
White Lion, Dudbridge Road
Princess Royal, Butterow (about 50 yards from The Prince Albert), Duke of York

Avening and Cherington
Sawyers Arms 71 High Street
Nags Head, Nags Head Lane
Farriers Arms/Horse & Farrier Avening,
Barn House, Cherington
Yew Tree Inn, Cherington.

Uley, Dursley, Cam, Coaley, Berkeley, North Nibley, Wotton-under-Edge, Arlingham, Framilode, Cambridge, Slimbridge, Saul, Sheppardine, Elmore, Longney

White Lion, 49 The Street, Uley, Nags Head, Uley, Lower Crown Inn, The Street, Uley (was next to the village hall), Shears Inn, Uley (residential: houses: The Shears), Swan Inn, Coaley (now Old Swan Cottage), Heart of Oak, Ham Hill, Coaley (now residential: Oak House), White Hart, Wotton Road, North Nibley, Apple Tree Inn, Wotton-under-Edge, The Ram, Wotton-under-Edge, New Inn, Kingshill Lane, Cam, Lamb Inn, Chapel Street, Cam, Foresters Arms, 31 Chapel Street, Lower Cam, Butchers Arms, Lower Cam, White Lion, Market Place, Dursley, White Hart, Long Street, Dursley, Star Inn, Silver Street, Dursley, Railway Inn, Long Street, Dursley, New Bell, Long Street, Dursley, Lamb Inn, Long Street, Dursley, Hen & Chicken, Woodmancote, Dursley, Crown Inn, 41 Long Street, Dursley, Cross Keys, Union Street, Dursley, Apple Tree Inn, Cam, Bull Inn, Bull Pitch, Dursley, Broadwell Tavern, Silver Street, Dursley, Boot Inn, Silver Street, Dursley, Bell Inn, Cam, Bell & Castle Inn, Parsonage Street, Dursley, Bell Inn, Berkeley Heath, Bell Inn, Arlingham, Old Bell, Arlingham Bell Inn, High Street, Arlingham (just off Passage Road), Yew Tree Inn, Woodfield Road, Cam, Berkeley Vale Hotel, Stone A38, Spread Eagle, Newport, nr Berkeley, Off-licence, Alkerton? Newport nr Berkeley, Newport Towers Hotel, Newport, Darrell Arms, Upper Framilode, Junction Inn, Framilode, Drover’s Arms, Bristol Road, Cambridge, Fox Inn, Woodford, Stone, near Berkeley (now a private residence Foxley House ST 692958), Crown Inn, Stone (just off the A38 on the road to Lower Stone – private residence, Crown Cottage), George Inn, Berkeley, George Inn, Bristol Road, Cambridge, Bell Inn, Bristol Road, Cambridge, White Lion, Bristol Road, (now residential) Cambridge, Shepherds Patch Inn, Slimbridge (now Patch Farm), Drum & Monkey/Junction Inn, Saul (now Junction House), Saul off-licence, Windbound Inn, Sheppardine, Stonebench Inn, Elmore, New Inn/Plate of Elvers, Longney, Swann Inn, Coaley, White Hart/Stagecoach Inn, Newport, near Berkeley, Star Inn, Heathfield (A38), near Berkeley, (now a private residence Star Inn Cottage ST 702984), Apple Tree Cider House, Halmore Lane, Hamfallow, near Berkeley (now a private residence the Old Cider House).

Stone, North Nibley, Wotton-under-Edge
White Hart, Wotton Road, North Nibley
Apple Tree Inn, Wotton-under-Edge
The Ram, Wotton-under-Edge

Berkeley Vale Hotel, Stone A38
Fox Inn, Woodford, Stone, near Berkeley (now a private residence Foxley House ST 692958)
Crown Inn, Stone (just off the A38 on the road to Lower Stone – private residence, Crown Cottage)

Berkeley
Spread Eagle, Newport, nr Berkeley
Off-licence, Alkerton? Newport nr Berkeley
Newport Towers Hotel, Newport
George Inn, Berkeley,
White Hart/Stagecoach Inn, Newport, near Berkeley
Star Inn, Heathfield (A38), near Berkeley, (now a private residence Star Inn Cottage ST 702984)
Apple Tree Cider House, Halmore Lane, Hamfallow,near Berkeley (now a private residence the Old Cider House).
Bell Inn, Berkeley Heath
Crown Inn, Bevington (2 miles SW of Berkeley).

Arlingham, Framilode, Cambridge, Slimbridge, Saul

Bell Inn, Arlingham
Old Bell, Arlingham
Bell Inn, High Street, Arlingham (just off Passage Road)

Darrell Arms, Upper Framilode
Junction Inn, Framilode

Drover’s Arms, Bristol Road, Cambridge,
George Inn, Bristol Road, Cambridge
Bell Inn, Bristol Road, Cambridge
White Lion, Bristol Road, (now residential) Cambridge

Shepherds Patch Inn, Slimbridge (now Patch Farm)

Drum & Monkey/Junction Inn, Saul (now Junction House)
Saul off-licence

Sheppardine, Elmore, Longney

Windbound Inn, Sheppardine
Stonebench Inn, Elmore
New Inn/Plate of Elvers, Longney,

Sharpness and Purton
Sharpness Hotel & Dockers Club
Severn Bridge and Railway Hotel, Station Road, Sharpness
Plume of Feathers/Lammastide Inn, Brookend, near Sharpness (on Lip Lane on OS map)
Pilot Inn, Purton (now a private residence, ‘The Pilot’)
Berkeley Hunt, Canalside, Purton
Berkeley Arms, Purton
Waifers Arms, Halmore, near Purton
Fox & Goose, Halmore, near Purton

Horsley
Bell and Castle, The Cross
Boot Inn (next to the village shop)
Yew Tree Inn, Nupend (just before Cox’s Farm on the B4058 W-under-Edge road – private res now)
White Hart Inn, Downend (now a private residence, the Old White Hart SO 835983)

Chalford/Frampton Mansell/France Lynch/Bisley/Oakridge Area
Bell Inn, Chalford (used for Chartist meetings in the 1830s)
Company’s Arms, Chalford
The Crown, Waterlane
Company’s Arms, Chalford
Duke of York, Queen’s Square, Chalford Hill

Oak Inn, Thames & Severn Canal, Frampton Mansell
White Horse Inn, Cirencester Road, Frampton Mansell (at top of Cowcombe Hill)
Oak Inn, Frampton Mansell

Court House, France Lynch (to the south of the village on the hill leading up to Avenis Green)

George Inn, Bisley

Nelson Inn, Far Oakridge (junction of the Daneway and Far Iles Green Road)

Stonehouse and vicinity

Brewers Arms, Gloucester Road
Cross Hands Inn, nr the Midland Railway station
Crown and Anchor, High Street
Nag’s Head, Regent Street
Royal Arms, Bath Road
Royal Oak
Royal Arms, Burdett Road
Ship Inn, Bristol Road
Spa Inn, Oldends Lane

The Anchor Inn, Ryeford Wharf, Stroudwater Canal
New Inn, Roving Bridge, Newtown (Stroudwater Canal)
Victoria Inn, Foundry Lock, Upper Dudbridge, Stroudwater Canal

Ryeford Arms, Ebley Road, Ryeford
Haywardfields Inn, ‘Nowhere’, Ryford, (on main road from Ryford to Ebley – hardly anyone lived there GL10 2LQ)

Fleece Inn, Stanley Downtown, nr Stonehouse

Off-licence, Nupend, nr Stonehouse

The Stanleys and Eastington

Britannia, High Street, (just south of the Kings Head – now residential: Britannia Cottage), Kings Stanley
Crown Inn (western edge of southern village green), Kings Stanley
Lamb Inn, Leonard Stanley
Middle Yard, Kings Stanley,
Nelson, Kings Stanley
New Inn, Church Street (residential property called the Old New Inn) Kings Stanley,
Old Castle, Inn (now a private residence), Kings Stanley
Old Crown, Kings Stanley
Red Lion, 3 The Green, Kings Stanley
Royal Oak, Shute Street, Kings Stanley (on road corner where the street meets roads to Middleyard and Selsley (Broad Street – now a private residence)
Star Inn, Kings Stanley (now a private residence in Broad Street, on the western side, opposite the rec., next building south down from the Kings Head)
Weavers Arms, Middleyard, (now a private residence) Kings Stanley, White Hart Leonard Stanley.

Britannia, Eastington
Castle Inn, Mill End, Eastington (prob the private res Castle House SO 783055)
Fox Inn, Bath Road, Eastington
Kings Head, Alkerton Cross, Eastington

Selsley

Nags Head, Selsley (opp the village school in School Square and the Bell), New Inn, Selsley Common

Nailsworth Area
Clothiers Arms, Nailsworth
Crown Inn, The Cross, Nailsworth
George Hotel, Nailsworth
Red Lion, Nailsworth

Crown Inn, Inchbrook
New Inn, Cow Lane, Inchbrook (next door to the Crown on a bend of the A46)

Jovial Forester, Star Hill, Forest Green
The Rock and Fountain, Star Hill, Forest Green
The Star, Star Hill, (a few yards from the Jovial Forester), Forest Green The Upper Star, Star Hill, Forest Green

Kings Head Inn, Forwood

Kings Head Inn, Dunkirk
Nag’s Head Inn, Dunkirk

Rising Sun Inn, Shortwood

Yew Tree Inn, Atcombe Road, South Woodchester (private residence: Yew Tree House)
Ten Bells Inn, Convent Lane, Frogmarsh, South Woodchester
Ram Inn, South Woodchester
Plough Inn, Bath Road, Little Britain (A46), Woodchester
Cross Inn, High Street, South Woodchester SO 840023

Minchinhampton

Crown Inn
White Hart

White Lion
Salutation Inn
Trumpet Inn

Box and Burleigh

The Box Inn, Box, (Box Inn Cottage)
Halfway House, Box
Bell Inn, Burleigh
Red Lion, Swells Hill, Burleigh,

Brimscombe and Thrupp

Brimscombe:

Kings Arms, Bourne, Brimscombe
Nelson, Brimscombe
Port Inn, Brimscombe
Victoria Hotel, Brimscombe
Port Inn, Brimscombe

Thrupp:

Forester’s Arms, Thrupp
Fountain Inn, Middle Pitch, Thrupp
Malakoff Inn, London Road, Thrupp
Phoenix Inn, London Road, Thrupp
Barley Mow/Railway Tavern, Brownshill (a few hundred feet above Brimscombe station; opposite the footpath which went down through Brownshill Banks to the main road by the Victoria Hotel
Red Lion, Eastcombe
King & Castle, Waggon & Horses, London Road, Thrupp
Foresters Arms, Claypits
Thrupp off-licence (Thrupp Lane?)
Brewers Arms, Thrupp Lane
Bourne off-licence
Waggon & Horses, London Road, Thrupp.

Randwick and Ruscombe

Rising Sun, Randwick, Rising Sun (SO 831066 approx – nr the closed Methodist Chapel)
New Inn, Randwick nr the centre of the village SO (827066 approx) Ludlow Green Inn, Ludlow Green, Ruscombe,(tiny hamlet s of Ruscombe nr Randwick)

Slad

Star Inn
Riflemans Arms, The Vatch
Barley Mow (now a private house near the Woolpack)

East India Company Walk

The information boards at Chalford intrigue,
Because of the lack of information:
At Chalford Vale and along the canal,
We are told about the local links
With the East India Company,
But we are not told about the practice
Of the East India Company;
The information boards are products of their time …
Times change and context is needed.

We start this contextualisation
Revealing a hidden colonial history
Within this leafy Cotswold landscape,
With a heat-wave peripatetic.

We start at Seville’s Mill in Chalford,
‘Today I would like to acknowledge
The Tory new mantra for History:
‘Retain and explain’,
Coupled with their ‘Culture Wars’ assertions:
‘You can’t change and airbrush history’,
And ‘The British Empire was a Good Thing’,
By letting the ‘Past Speak for Itself’,
From the pages of Jack P. Greene’s erudite tome,
Evaluating Empire and Confronting Colonialism
in Eighteenth-Century Britain’:

The information boards at Chalford intrigue,
Because of the lack of information:
At Chalford Vale and along the canal,
We are told about the local links
With the East India Company,
But we are not told about the practice
Of the East India Company;
The information boards are products of their time …
Times change and context is needed.

We start this contextualisation
Revealing a hidden colonial history
Within this leafy Cotswold landscape,
With a heat-wave peripatetic.

We start at Seville’s Mill in Chalford,
‘Today I would like to acknowledge
The Tory new mantra for History:
‘Retain and explain’,
Coupled with their ‘Culture Wars’ assertions:
‘You can’t change and airbrush history’,
And ‘The British Empire was a Good Thing’,
By letting the ‘Past Speak for Itself’,
From the pages of Jack P. Greene’s erudite tome,
Evaluating Empire and Confronting Colonialism
in Eighteenth-Century Britain’:

The East India Company?
‘those shameful triumphs over unwarlike and defenceless nations, which have poured into the laps of individuals the wealth of India … and driven us to plunder and destroy harmless natives fixed so deep a stain on the English name, as perhaps cannot be expiated.’

‘changed, contrary to the intentions of its institution, from a commercial, into a military corporation’, so that India – a ‘country, late so famous for its commerce, whose rich manufacturers brought to it immense wealth from every corner of the tributary world, and whose fertile plains supplied millions of its neighbours with grain’ is ‘unable now to yield itself the bare necessities of life. The loom is unemployed, neglected lies the plough; trade is at a stand, for there are no manufacturers to carry it on’; multitudes are ‘perishing for want of food.’

‘a revenue of two millions in India, acquired God knows how, by unjust wars … their servants came home with immense fortune obtained by rapine and oppression.’

‘and indeed it is clearly proved, that the East India Company is rotten to the very core. All is equally unsound; and you cannot lay your finger on a single healthy spot whereon to begin the application of a remedy. In the east, the laws of society, the laws of nature, have been enormously violated. Oppression in every shape has ground the faces of the poor defenceless natives; and tyranny has stalked abroad. The laws of England have lain mute and neglected and nothing was seen but the arbitrary face of despotism. Every sanction of civil justice, every maxim of political wisdom, all laws human and divine, have been trampled underfoot, and set at nought.’

‘Pride and emulation stimulated avarice, and the sole contest was, who should return to that home … with the greatest heap of crimes and of plunder.’

‘Asiatic plunderers’, ‘they had for many years been disgracing us as a nation and making us appear in the eyes of the world, no longer the once-famed generous Britons, but a set of banditti, bent solely on rapine and plunder.’

executions, oppressions, blood-shed, massacres, extirpation, pestilence and famine.’

‘Instead of our fleets crowding our ports freighted with the precious commodities of the East … we have … the importation of the fortunes of splendid delinquents, amassed by peculation and rapine.’

Parallels with the Roman Empire?
‘the dominions in Asia, like the distant Roman provinces during the decline of the empire, have been abandoned, as lawful prey, to every species of peculators; in so much that many of the servants of the Company, after exhibiting such scenes of barbarity as can be scarcely paralleled in the history of any country, have returned to England loaded with wealth.’

Clive of India?
‘utterly deaf to every sentiment of justice and humanity … this insatiable harpy, whose ambition is unparalleled, and whose avarice knows no bounds.’

America and India Conjoined?
‘We have abused and adulterated government ourselves, stretching our depredations and massacres not only to the Eastern, but Western world … the guilt of murder and robbery … now crying aloud for vengeance on the head of Great Britain.’

‘How melancholy is the consideration to the friends to this country that in the East and in the West, in Asia and America, the name of an Englishman is become a reproach’, and in ‘Europe we are not loved enough to have a single friend … from such a situation there is but a small step to hatred or contempt.’

We make our way up and through Chalford Bottom,
Remembering the great radical John Thelwall,
Who stayed here in the summer of 1797:
‘Therefore I love, Chalford, and ye vales
Of Stroud, irriguous:[i] but still more I love
For hospitable pleasures here enjoy’d,
And cordial intercourse. Yet must I leave
Your social haunts …’

And so, we made our way to Hyde and Minchinhampton,
Collectively reading from this link:
http://radicalstroud.co.uk/stroud-and-a-hidden-colonial-landscape-number/

We then processed by lane and footpath to Box,
And then descended to Longford’s Mill,
Where we had a reading from Amplify Stroud:
https://amplifystroud.com/2021/02/18/clothing-colonialism-stroud-and-the-east-india-company/
Then it was past Iron Mills and the Weighbridge Inn,
With an unhappy glance back at the Great War:
http://radicalstroud.co.uk/archibald-knee-and-dorothy-beard/
And so, along the lanes and through the woods
To reach Nailsworth and another reminder
Of the local landscape and a colonial history
(See towards the end of this link):
http://radicalstroud.co.uk/stroud-and-a-hidden-colonial-landscape-number/

We started the day with the bus to Chalford
And we end this peripatetic with a bus back to Stroud.

Stuart Butler 22nd July 2021

Stroud Scarlet and William Cuffay: An Exploration

We have written before about Stroud Scarlet, the slave trade, and triangles of conjecture. (See point 5 at https://sootallures.wixsite.com/topographersarms/post/a-community-curriculum )

But what of William Cuffay?

William’s mother, Juliana Fox, was born in Kent, whilst his once enslaved father, Chatham Cuffay, made it to Kent from St Kitts. William Cuffay, of mixed-heritage, born in 1788, became a famous Chartist leader in the mid nineteenth century and then an activist after transportation to Tasmania. ( See https://sootallures.wixsite.com/topographersarms/post/william-cuffay for an imaginative reconstruction of William’s life.)
William is one of the first working-class leaders of colour, and possibly the most famous. There is a campaign for a memorial to honour him in the Medway area of Kent:

‘Hi Stuart …
We are working with Medway Afro-Caribbean Association to get a plaque for Cuffay in Medway, hopefully in time for Black History Month. They need at least £3000 and have been talking to Medway Council who have only offered them £1500. This is something the Trade Union Movement could (and should) easily pay for and we will be approaching local branches and national unions for support. It might even encourage them to think about some sort of memorial to Cuffay in London.

There is much more to Cuffay’s story than can be put on a plaque so we are also looking to organise some sort of annual event so that Cuffay and the Chartists, a key part of both Black and working-class history, become much better known.’

We have written before about Stroud Scarlet, the slave trade, and triangles of conjecture. (See point 5 at https://sootallures.wixsite.com/topographersarms/post/a-community-curriculum )

But what of William Cuffay?

William’s mother, Juliana Fox, was born in Kent, whilst his once enslaved father, Chatham Cuffay, made it to Kent from St Kitts. William Cuffay, of mixed-heritage, born in 1788, became a famous Chartist leader in the mid nineteenth century and then an activist after transportation to Tasmania. ( See https://sootallures.wixsite.com/topographersarms/post/william-cuffay for an imaginative reconstruction of William’s life.)
William is one of the first working-class leaders of colour, and possibly the most famous. There is a campaign for a memorial to honour him in the Medway area of Kent:

‘Hi Stuart …
We are working with Medway Afro-Caribbean Association to get a plaque for Cuffay in Medway, hopefully in time for Black History Month. They need at least £3000 and have been talking to Medway Council who have only offered them £1500. This is something the Trade Union Movement could (and should) easily pay for and we will be approaching local branches and national unions for support. It might even encourage them to think about some sort of memorial to Cuffay in London.

There is much more to Cuffay’s story than can be put on a plaque so we are also looking to organise some sort of annual event so that Cuffay and the Chartists, a key part of both Black and working-class history, become much better known.’

We intend to raise funds for the memorial by taking some Stroud cloth alongside the Stroudwater Navigation from the slavery abolition arch at Paganhill to Framilode; thence alongside the Severn to Bristol Docks.
We will then ‘sell’ the cloth to ship owners before its imagined eighteenth century journey to north-west Africa.

We shall create triangle poems to leave on our journey so as to recreate the possible consequences of this cloth’s voyage to Benin. These reconstructions of the triangular trade will reflect voyages to Benin, the Americas and thence back to Bristol – and Stroud. The triangles are below.

And who knows? Perhaps Stroud cloth enslaved Chatham and William’s ancestors and took them from the Door of No Return across the crimson-splashed Black Atlantic Archipelago.

So, perhaps you would like to sponsor us on our sixty-mile trip to Bristol?
We would forward the money straight away to Medway Trades Union Council as explained above.
In Solidarity,
Stuart Butler and Bob Blenkinsop

The
Stroudwater
Canal and Navigation

A link
Betwixt Stroud
And the River Severn at Framilode

The
River Severn,
A link from Framilode to Bristol Docks

Was
Stroud Scarlet
A cloth-link betwixt
Stroud and Bristol Docks?

Was
Stroud Scarlet
A cloth-link betwixt
Bristol and north-west Africa?

Was
Stroud Scarlet
A cloth-link betwixt enslavement,
Africa, the West Indies and the Americas?

Was
Stroud Scarlet
A cloth-link betwixt enslavement,
Tobacco, sugar, cotton, rum, the West Indies,
Bristol, Clifton, Bath, refinement, and the Age of Elegance?

Stroud
Scarlet,
A cloth-link from
Bristol Docks and on to Stroud?

The
River Severn,
A link from Bristol Docks to Framilode.

From Framilode,
The Stroudwater Navigation,
The canal, wends its way to Stroud,
Past Stroud Scarlet stretched on tenterhooks.

And so
Triangles of speculation
Complete their conjectural voyage,
Where they began, at the slavery arch in Paganhill.

‘All
Ship-shape
And Bristol fashion’:
With river, canal and turnpike,
Cloth could be carried down to Bristol, bound for
Sierra Leone, Ghana, Nigeria, Guinea, Benin, Angola, Gambia.
 Then
The Door
Of No Return:
 The Middle Passage,
 Nevis, Barbados, Jamaica,
Virginia, Haiti and South Carolina.
They fill the hold with sugar, cotton, tobacco:
Commodities that still cast a ship-shape shadow. 

From
Where else
Did this nation’s
18th century boom time come?

War,
Slavery,
Enclosure,
Exploitation
Mechanisation,
And the British Empire,
But the most lucrative of all
Was the shark’s feeding frenzy. 

And
Stroud lies
Hidden within the
Long decayed ledger books
Of Bristol merchants at their quayside,
Stroud Scarlet bought and sold in the damp
Teasled mill air of the tenter hooked Five Valleys,
Before exchanging use and life for human life and death
On the Middle Passage for the West Indies and the Americas.

WALKING THE THAMES TO LONDON #6

Raising Funds for the Trussell Trust
In association with the cyclists’ group from The Prince Albert
Newbridge to Oxford 14 miles
The Windrush joins the Thames at Newbridge,
Flowing beneath the elegant Taynton stone bridge,
Once a port of call for honeyed Burford quarried stone
On its way to Oxford and London,
As well as a defeat for the Parliamentarians …
Yet today,
So many swans gliding on the waters,
So close to King Charles’ Oxford,
With their mute depiction of feudal hierarchy:
These birds are for monarchs old and new, not
‘Yoemen and husbandmen and other persons of little reputation’;
A heron interrupted the flow of my thoughts downstream
To Hart’s Weir footbridge – more English quaintness:
The weir has gone, but a right of way remains to Erewhon;
Then Northmoor Lock, before reaching literary Bablock Hythe:
Matthew Arnold’s scholar-gypsy,
‘Oft was met crossing the stripling Thames at Bab-lock-hythe,
Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet,
As the punt’s rope chops round’;
None of that now at the Ferryman Inn and its chalet purlieus,
Instead a meander inland before returning to the waters
At Pinkhill Weir, before another short roadside detour,
And a boatyard and chandlers and a stride to Swinford Bridge
(Swine-ford),
Where feudalism and modernity meet:
A toll bridge, built at the behest of the Earl of Abingdon in 1777,
Where a company still charges drivers today
(But not pedestrians!),
Then on to the now invisible Anglo-Saxon cultural importance
Of Eynsham, and Eynsham Lock,
Evenlode Stream and King’s Lock
(King denoting kine),
Underneath the Ox-ford by-pass
(You’ve heard its constant roar for over an hour),
To Godstow: ‘Get thee to a nunnery!’;
‘The use of detectors is strictly forbidden’;

Raising Funds for the Trussell Trust
In association with the cyclists’ group from The Prince Albert
Newbridge to Oxford 14 miles
The Windrush joins the Thames at Newbridge,
Flowing beneath the elegant Taynton stone bridge,
Once a port of call for honeyed Burford quarried stone
On its way to Oxford and London,
As well as a defeat for the Parliamentarians …
Yet today,
So many swans gliding on the waters,
So close to King Charles’ Oxford,
With their mute depiction of feudal hierarchy:
These birds are for monarchs old and new, not
‘Yoemen and husbandmen and other persons of little reputation’;
A heron interrupted the flow of my thoughts downstream
To Hart’s Weir footbridge – more English quaintness:
The weir has gone, but a right of way remains to Erewhon;
Then Northmoor Lock, before reaching literary Bablock Hythe:
Matthew Arnold’s scholar-gypsy,
‘Oft was met crossing the stripling Thames at Bab-lock-hythe,
Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet,
As the punt’s rope chops round’;
None of that now at the Ferryman Inn and its chalet purlieus,
Instead a meander inland before returning to the waters
At Pinkhill Weir, before another short roadside detour,
And a boatyard and chandlers and a stride to Swinford Bridge
(Swine-ford),
Where feudalism and modernity meet:
A toll bridge, built at the behest of the Earl of Abingdon in 1777,
Where a company still charges drivers today
(But not pedestrians!),
Then on to the now invisible Anglo-Saxon cultural importance
Of Eynsham, and Eynsham Lock,
Evenlode Stream and King’s Lock
(King denoting kine),
Underneath the Ox-ford by-pass
(You’ve heard its constant roar for over an hour),
To Godstow: ‘Get thee to a nunnery!’;
‘The use of detectors is strictly forbidden’;
Fair Rosamund, Alice Liddell and Charles Dodgson,
Glide past the astonishing free grazing common lands of Port Meadow:
Horses gallop free, while a train passes in the distance,
Kine, countless, standing in the waters,
Swans gazing at the stationary herds,
Port Meadow, a feudal gift to the burghers of Oxford,
Courtesy of Edward the Confessor,
Honoured by William the Conqueror;
But enough of this medievalism and feudalism …
The industrial revolution is calling:

A boatyard, a footbridge, Osney Bridge, a canal,
And a train back to Stroud.

STATE OF HUNGER RESEARCH:
PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN
REFERRED TO A FOOD BANK
ARE VERY LIKELY TO HAVE HEALTH ISSUES
WITH NEARLY 75% REPORTING
AT LEAST ONE HEALTH ISSUE

Rodborough Allotments gave over surplus rhubarb to the Long Table at Brimscombe and we collected from all over the plots and delivered two wheelbarrows’ full.

Hi Stuart,

Sorry, I did mean to email you yesterday, but the day ran away with me! Thank you so much for the rhubarb, the chefs will turn it into something delicious! We love using fresh surplus food, especially fruit and veg grown locally as the basis of our meals. If you do have any further surplus fruit and veg from your allotments do let us know- we would to turn it into delicious meals.

WALKING THE THAMES TO LONDON #5

Raising Funds for the Trussell Trust
In association with the cyclists’ group from The Prince Albert
Lechlade to Newbridge 16 miles

I walked past Shelley’s Close by the Church …

Where Shelley wrote his ‘Summer Evening Churchyard’,
Crossed the bridge and turned left for London,
It was just the sort of light I like for a riverine walk:
Waves of silver rippling through the dark waters,
Moody clouds above Old Father Thames’ statue,
Once of Crystal Palace, now recumbent at St John’s Lock –
But the nineteenth century was soon forgotten:
It all got a bit Mrs Miniver and Went the Day Well?
After Bloomer’s Hole footbridge:
I lost count of the pillboxes in the fields and on the banks
(‘Mr. Brown goes off to Town on the 8.21,
But he comes home each evening,
And he’s ready with his gun’),
As I walked on past Buscot, with its line of poplar trees,
Planted to drain the soil in its Victorian heyday of sugar beet
And once with a narrow gauge railway dancing across
A lost Saxon village at Eaton Hastings;
Then on past William Morris’ ‘heaven on earth’
At Kelmscott Manor (‘Visit our website to shop online!’),
Walkers occasionally appearing beyond hedgerows,
Like Edward Thomas’ ‘The Other Man’;
Then to Grafton Lock, and on to Radcot’s bridges and lock
(The waters divide here with two bridges:
The older, the site of a medieval battle after the Peasants’ Revolt;
A statue of the Virgin Mary once in a niche in the bridge, too,
Mutilated by the Levellers, before their Burford executions;
The newer bridge built in the hope and expectations
Of traffic and profit in the wake of the Thames and Severn Canal),
Past Old Man’s Bridge, Rushey Lock and Rushey Weir:
A traditional Thames paddle and rymer weir
(The paddles and handles, called rymers,
Dropped into position to block the rushing waters).
Now it’s on to isolated Tadpole Bridge on the Bampton turnpike,
Now past Chimney Meadow – once a Saxon island,
Then Tenfoot Bridge – characteristically,
Where an upper Thames flash weir sed to pour its waters,
Until Victorian modernity silenced that;
Then past Shifford Weir and the hamlet of Shifford,
Once a major Wessex town, where King Alfred
Met with his parliament of
‘Many bishops, and many book-learned.
Earls wise and Knights awful’.

Raising Funds for the Trussell Trust
In association with the cyclists’ group from The Prince Albert
Lechlade to Newbridge 16 miles

I walked past Shelley’s Close by the Church …

Where Shelley wrote his ‘Summer Evening Churchyard’,
Crossed the bridge and turned left for London,
It was just the sort of light I like for a riverine walk:
Waves of silver rippling through the dark waters,
Moody clouds above Old Father Thames’ statue,
Once of Crystal Palace, now recumbent at St John’s Lock –
But the nineteenth century was soon forgotten:
It all got a bit Mrs Miniver and Went the Day Well?
After Bloomer’s Hole footbridge:
I lost count of the pillboxes in the fields and on the banks
(‘Mr. Brown goes off to Town on the 8.21,
But he comes home each evening,
And he’s ready with his gun’),
As I walked on past Buscot, with its line of poplar trees,
Planted to drain the soil in its Victorian heyday of sugar beet
And once with a narrow gauge railway dancing across
A lost Saxon village at Eaton Hastings;
Then on past William Morris’ ‘heaven on earth’
At Kelmscott Manor (‘Visit our website to shop online!’),
Walkers occasionally appearing beyond hedgerows,
Like Edward Thomas’ ‘The Other Man’;
Then to Grafton Lock, and on to Radcot’s bridges and lock
(The waters divide here with two bridges:
The older, the site of a medieval battle after the Peasants’ Revolt;
A statue of the Virgin Mary once in a niche in the bridge, too,
Mutilated by the Levellers, before their Burford executions;
The newer bridge built in the hope and expectations
Of traffic and profit in the wake of the Thames and Severn Canal),
Past Old Man’s Bridge, Rushey Lock and Rushey Weir:
A traditional Thames paddle and rymer weir
(The paddles and handles, called rymers,
Dropped into position to block the rushing waters).
Now it’s on to isolated Tadpole Bridge on the Bampton turnpike,
Now past Chimney Meadow – once a Saxon island,
Then Tenfoot Bridge – characteristically,
Where an upper Thames flash weir sed to pour its waters,
Until Victorian modernity silenced that;
Then past Shifford Weir and the hamlet of Shifford,
Once a major Wessex town, where King Alfred
Met with his parliament of
‘Many bishops, and many book-learned.
Earls wise and Knights awful’.

But you finish your waltz through a Saxon landscape:
(The honeystone bridge at Newbridge is in sight)
Buscot, Eaton Hastings, Kelmscott, Radcot, Shifford;
And along the Red Line of resistance from the summer of 1940,
The skeins of geese and ducks no longer calling,
There’s an evening mist gathering over the river:
‘The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea,
The ploughman plods his weary way
And leaves the world to darkness and to me’;
It’s time for an imaginary pint

At the Maybush (the Berkshire bank),
And another imaginary pint …

At the Rose Revived (the Oxfordshire bank) –
The bridge is actually 13th century, and only called Newbridge
As it’s newer than the original 12th century bridge at Radcot:
‘The Thames Path 40 miles to the Source 153 to the Sea.’
‘In 1644, the Battle of Newbridge was fought on the banks of the river.
Parliamentarian William Waller attempted to cross in order to surround Oxford and capture King Charles, but was defeated.’
I rather like the use of the word ‘but.’

STATE OF HUNGER RESEARCH:
PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN
REFERRED TO A FOOD BANK
CANNOT AFFORD TO BUY THE ABSOLUTE ESSENTIALS
THAT WE ALL NEED TO EAT,
STAY WARM AND DRY, AND KEEP CLEAN –
WITH 94% FACING REAL DESTITUTION

It seems certain that in the next few months there is going to be growing pressure on the food banks. At the same time ,the collection points at supermarkets are nearly empty as people shop for their families. Can the supermarkets make provision for those that can afford it to make a monetary donation when they pay for their goods. ?

Each week the Food Bank managers could find out how much is in the “pot” and buy goods to that value by ” click and collect”. In this way they can get the food and other goods they are most short of. It also cuts out multiple handling . A simple sign in each Supermarket in front of the tills would be sufficient to remind shoppers to help the Food Banks in these difficult times.

Mike Putnam
Stroud

WALKING THE THAMES TO LONDON #4

Raising Funds for the Trussell Trust

In association with the cyclists’ group from The Prince Albert

Day Two: Cricklade to Lechlade 11 miles

William Cobbett visited Cricklade in 1826 on his Rural Rides: ‘the source of the river Isis … the first branch of the Thames. They call it the “Old Thames” and I rode through it here, it not being above four or five yards wide, and not deeper than the knees of my horse … I saw in one single farm-yard here more food than enough for four times the inhabitants of the parish … the poor creatures that raise the wheat and the barley and cheese and the mutton and the beef are living upon potatoes …’
Plus ca change …

A haiku exploration:
Ridge and furrow fields,
Once beyond the river’s reach,
Now puddled and drowned.

Peasants till the fields,
Barefoot ghosts and revenants
Follow in our steps.

Silhouetted trees,
Pewter sky and silver clouds,
The water’s canvas.

Swans glide the field-flood,
A limitless lake’s expanse,
Burnished willow boughs.

And at Inglesham,
A medieval village,
Lost to Time’s waters.

Raising Funds for the Trussell Trust

In association with the cyclists’ group from The Prince Albert

Day Two: Cricklade to Lechlade 11 miles

William Cobbett visited Cricklade in 1826 on his Rural Rides: ‘the source of the river Isis … the first branch of the Thames. They call it the “Old Thames” and I rode through it here, it not being above four or five yards wide, and not deeper than the knees of my horse … I saw in one single farm-yard here more food than enough for four times the inhabitants of the parish … the poor creatures that raise the wheat and the barley and cheese and the mutton and the beef are living upon potatoes …’
Plus ca change …

A haiku exploration:
Ridge and furrow fields,
Once beyond the river’s reach,
Now puddled and drowned.

Peasants till the fields,
Barefoot ghosts and revenants
Follow in our steps.

Silhouetted trees,
Pewter sky and silver clouds,
The water’s canvas.

Swans glide the field-flood,
A limitless lake’s expanse,
Burnished willow boughs.

And at Inglesham,
A medieval village,
Lost to Time’s waters.

While we ooze and splash
Through rising water tables,
To a drowned future.

Postscript from Kel Portman

walking through water
in winter’s delicate light
so many more clouds

From field to wetland
Submerged ridge and furrow fields
Only geese rejoice

Newbuilds encroaching
On ox-ploughed ridge and furrow
Built on old floodplains

Connecting pathways
Link old fields and new town
Concrete covers soil

Hungry water floods,
Transforming land into lake.
Soil becomes mirror

Across old-ridged fields
Footpaths lead dogwalkers home
To flood-prone newbuilds
New rugby pitches

All fresh-white-lines and mown grass.

Lost, the ancient fields

Two new waterscapes
Made by this flooded river
Which of them is real?

Trees stand in water,
Surrounded, up to their waists.
Waiting for summer

Threat’ning Iron grey skies
Bring more rain to fill the Thames.
Filling forlorn fields

Lechlade where time and paths confluence
At the young wander of Thames.
Neolithic cursus monuments
ghost lines hinted in the plough soil,
the spectral signs of people here four thousand years before.
Always people returned
to Lechlade’s river land
where ways went from oolitic Cotswold upland
or towards chalk hills over claggy bottom vale.
All took the Thames track where fish tremble like strange sonnets
to seek further: teased by the twists of Thames.
There is much promised here for a life of ample gains,
Yet why halt now with paths and ways leading on?
Thames is a coming and going,
Lechlade wavers beside its bank.
Perhaps Britain is not an island,
but hundreds of flowing rivers carrying us all to the Sea.
Robin Treefellow

STATE OF HUNGER RESEARCH:
PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN
REFERRED TO A FOOD BANK
HAVE AN AVERAGE WEEKLY INCOME
AFTER HOUSING COSTS OF JUST £50