Roundabout Publications

Community magazines for local advertising in Monkseaton, Tynemouth, and Whitley Bay

LOCAL HISTORY: The White Lady of Seaton Delaval Hall

Seaton Delaval HallA room looking into the courtyard of Delaval Hall is known as ‘The Ghost Chamber’ and, at its window, the ‘White Lady’ is said to keep her melancholy vigil at sunset, looking for her absent Lord.

There is a story that in 1774, among the numerous visitors to Delaval Hall, a Duchess from the South of England was accompanied by an unknown fair lady who attracted the attention of the young Lord John Delaval. It soon became known that the fair visitor and young Lord John were engaged.

This met with the disapproval of his father, Lord Delaval, as he wanted his only son and heir to be allied to a more powerful and wealthy family. He therefore gave orders for his son to join his regiment in Lincolnshire, and not to return until he was sent for, on the assumption that the prolonged absence would cool his ardour for the lady.

His son obeyed, but not before he pledged his love to the fair visitor, and declared that when he did return they were to marry.

Lord John had not been gone for many weeks when news came that he had developed an illness, and had died suddenly. The last male heir to the Delaval’s was now dead!

During the first weeks of young Lord John’s absence, the health of the fair lady gave cause for alarm, which necessitated her to maintain a prolonged stay at the Hall. When news of Lord John’s death reached the lady, her health deteriorated further and her mind began to wander.

Over the months that followed, she was frequently seen looking from one of the windows in her room, and when questioned as to what she was looking for, her reply was always the same: “For the return of Lord Delaval to his home”. She could not be comforted, and at nights when all was silent, she would wander from her room to the windows, which commanded the best views of the Avenue. Here she was frequently seen dressed in white, gazing into the darkness and wringing her hands in grief.

As her health slowly failed, death put an end to her sorrowful vigils, and she was carried south by her relatives to be laid to rest. It is fabled that she died of a broken heart.

Her name is unknown, but the memory of the faithful and beautiful white lady is still kept by her form, which can be seen only at certain times of the year.

It is a fact that when the sun sinks in the west, casting a halo over the tops of the Cheviot Hills, or when a full moon sheds its light over the trees which guard the Hall, thus casting a shadow of the nearby Lady Chapel onto the south front of the former ruins, if you look very carefully, you will then be able to see “The White Lady” gazing from the windows of the first floor of the east wing of Seaton Delaval Hall.

by Charlie Steel © 2016

Charlie SteelFurther reading for many of Charlie’s articles can be found in his books: ‘Monkseaton Village’ (Vol. 1 & 2), ‘North Shields Public Houses, Inns & Taverns’ (Part 1 & 2), ‘Tynemouth Remembered’ and ’Whitley Bay Remembered’ (Part 1 & 2) , all published by Summerhill Books.

More information on www.monkseaton.info and on the Monkseaton Village Facebook Page.

NORTHUMBERLAND AND BORDER WALKS: Wild Goats And A Familiar Hill

Wild GoatsOn average July is the warmest month of the year but it is also one of the wettest. However, as I stood in the narrow, emerald green valley of the Rowhope Burn, less than one hour into my first walk of July, the air was already as warm as a freshly barbecued chicken. The ‘Weather Gods’, it seemed, had woken up in a particularly pleasant mood.

I was about to start the exceedingly steep climb up Rough Knowe, a south western spur of iconic Windy Gyle – a hill I have visited more than any other but never by this particular route. With nothing in the way of a path or sheep trace to guide me, I simply made a bee-line to the highest visible point through a dense forest of knee-high bracken. I was mightily relieved to reach slightly easier ground close to the head of Outer Green Cleugh.

The views opened up around me as I plodded on over knee-jarring terrain whilst a succession of impressive hill-splitting cleughs slipped down from the distant high ground of the Pennine Way. I could clearly pick out the deep incision of Foulstep Sike, an aptly-named watercourse I had crossed on numerous occasions in the past. Mile after mile of rolling hills stretched out in every direction as I continued upwards in boot-placing, muscle-stretching concentration.

Then, all of a sudden, little more than 50 metres ahead, I spotted a herd of wild goats happily grazing on this lonely and rarely-visited hillside. I stopped dead in my tracks, desperately hoping that I had not been spotted by these shy and sensitive creatures. But to no avail, my cover was instantly blown and, after the herd had cautiously sized me up, they moved, almost in unison, slowly and easily uphill. I continued behind them and, initially I was able to keep them well within my sights. But man is no match for these fleet and sure-footed beasts, custom-built for the wild and rugged Cheviot terrain and soon they had all disappeared from sight.

On I went, clambering over the damp, peat-riddled source of the Rowhope Burn, on over the post and wire border fence and then finally along the boot-worn Pennine Way path to the summit of Windy Gyle. It had taken me two lung-expanding hours to reach the highest point of the day and, as I sat with my back against the hill-topping triangulation pillar, I was joined by a further four like-minded souls. Pleasantries were exchanged before I then made tracks towards the age-old border crossing at Hexpethgate and then onto the meandering line of Clennell Street. An easy stretch of downhill walking led me towards my next port-of-call, the summit of Hazely Law and thence to the Hepden Burn, where I splashed my face with the cool, clear water of this beautifully sheltered burn.

I was well on my way back to where I had parked my car close to the River Coquet, a mere stone’s throw from the quiet farmstead of Windyhaugh. From a number of alternatives I decided on a route which would eventually take me over Shorthope Hill, grass-carpeted and enjoying superb views of the tidy farm of Rowhope. With little in the way of additional climbing how could I resist a visit to this fine little hill. How indeed!

by Geoff Holland © 2016

Geoff HollandGeoff Holland is a regular contributor to a number of magazines and the author of four books of self-guided walks, ‘The Hills of Upper Coquetdale’, ‘The Cheviot Hills’, ‘Walks from Wooler’ and ‘Walks on the Wild Side: The Cheviot Hills’. All books can be purchased online from www.trailguides.co.uk. Geoff, who has lived in Monkseaton for over 40 years, also operates the award-winning website www.cheviotwalks.co.uk. His poems have appeared in a number of publications.

ALL AT SEA: Farming Again

Stooks of BarleyI had six months to wait before I could ‘take’ my Second Mate’s Certificate so it was too soon to enrol at South Shields Marine School, as it was a three month’s course and at that time I couldn’t sit the exam until I was twenty years old. I came home in July and my birthday was in November, so to make a little money to last me six months I worked on a farm.

As it was harvest time, my first job was assisting in the fields of barley, which then was always the first crop. After the corn was cut and made into sheaves we stacked them in ‘stooks,’ tent like, in straight rows across the field. This allowed them to dry in the air before transfer to the farmyard, where they were stacked until threshing time. Each stack represented one day’s threshing.

I hated barley. As the sheaves were lifted from the ground, one under each arm to be stooked, the barley awns broke off and lodged under our clothes where, needle like, they stuck into the skin in various parts of the body. Oats and wheat were not nearly so bad although occasionally someone would let out a huge yell as a wasp found its way to the skin!

After a couple of weeks we loaded the stooks on to a trailer to be transported to the farmyard.

In the field we had a huge shire horse to pull the trailer between the stooks, and having done this job many times it barely needed any orders to move between the stooks or even to stop at the correct place. When the trailer was full, the farmer drove a tractor with an empty trailer across the field at full tilt. We unhitched the horse and connected the full trailer to the tractor then the horse was re-hitched to the empty one for us to start all over again. The farmer, who didn’t seem to know how to drive the tractor slowly, careered across the field with mad abandon with our carefully stacked load swaying alarmingly. On one occasion, he caught the rope which held the load in place on the gate post and half the trailer load spilled back into the field to groans of anguish from us workers. It would have to be picked up again later in the day!

The best times of the day, beside ‘finishing-for-the-night-time’, was ‘looance’ which is a particularly Yorkshire way of saying ‘allowance.’  About ten o’clock in the morning and three o’clock in the afternoon the farmer, at his usual breakneck speed, would have a ‘load’ on the otherwise empty trailer. This was a huge urn of tea, complete with pint mugs, which was well shaken by the time it reached us, and a large home made apple pie with chunks of cheese.  We sat in the shade of a stook after giving the horse some well earned oats, ate the delicious fare and discussed the crop and other subjects. ‘Other subjects’ invariably turned to my chosen career at sea.

I enjoyed my days on the farm, all the while knowing, of course, that I would not be taking up farming as an occupation.

by Terry Took © 2016

Terry Took was born in Yorkshire but has lived in Tynemouth for over 50 years. He spent 45 years in the Merchant Navy which included 27 years as North Sea Pilot. He then spent five years as a lecturer at the Marine Department of South Tyneside College.

He is now an Elder Brother in Trinity House.

If you have any comments or would like to contact Terry then please e-mail him at pilotone@pilotone.plus.com.

 

LOCAL HISTORY: Victor Noble Rainbird

Rainbird with his painting 'All Quiet on the Western Front' based on his experiences on the Somme Victor Noble Rainbird was a prominent local artist who was born on 12th December 1887 at 49 Sidney Street, North Shields. From 1917 to 1933 his home was at 71 West Percy Street, which is now marked with a blue plaque to mark his residency there.

Rainbird painted in oil and watercolour and was also a stained glass window designer. He attended Armstrong College, Newcastle, during which time he began to exhibit on Tyneside before moving on to study at the Royal College of Art and, later, the Royal Academy of Arts in London.

When the Great War broke out in 1914, he joined the Northumberland Fusiliers as a private soldier. He was posted overseas and served on the western front at Ypres, Passchendale, Vimy Ridge and Armentieres. He later joined the Northumberland Fusiliers, 34th Division and, in connection with field observation, prepared drawings for headquarters in the Somme’s front line.

After a short break in England, he returned to France to take part in the retirements on the Somme Front, and was made a non-commissioned officer in charge of a company of Lewis gunners in shock troop training. He ended his war career as a corporal with the Durham Light Infantry.

There is no doubt that Rainbird was badly affected by his war experiences, during which time he had been the victim of an enemy gas attack. It is believed he suffered from what is now termed ‘Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder’, or shell shock as it was then known.

On being demobbed, Rainbird returned to North Shields and set up as a professional artist, exhibiting his works at various galleries throughout the country.

During the years following the war he encountered serious alcohol problems, and on at least one occasion was arrested and fined for being drunk and incapable. It can only be speculated as to how his experiences during the war were a contributory factor to this.

Common works that Rainbird executed are of the sea, seafront and streets in and around North Shields. He produced and sold paintings in large numbers to pay his way through life, using inferior materials and selling them to pub landlords for a drink or two. He would often set out several boards on a table and paint in sky, foreground and details before adding a title and his signature, all in a very short space of time.

Rainbird moved to Otto Street, Sunderland around 1934 and died there on the 8th March 1936 aged 48 following a short illness. He was brought home to North Shields and was laid to rest in a pauper’s grave in Preston Cemetery.

The Victor Noble Rainbird exhibition ‘From Dark to Light’ ran for three months last year at the Old Low Lights Heritage Centre, North Shields, with over £6,500 raised by donations and receipts from catalogue, card and print sales. A memorial service was held at Christ Church on 8th March 2016, followed by the unveiling of a Memorial Sculpture at Preston Cemetery, North Shields on the artist’s unmarked grave in recognition of his life and amazing talent.

by Charlie Steel © 2016

Charlie SteelFurther reading for many of Charlie’s articles can be found in his books: ‘Monkseaton Village’ (Vol. 1 & 2), ‘North Shields Public Houses, Inns & Taverns’ (Part 1 & 2), ‘Tynemouth Remembered’ and ’Whitley Bay Remembered’ (Part 1 & 2) , all published by Summerhill Books.

More information on www.monkseaton.info and on the Monkseaton Village Facebook Page.

ALL AT SEA: An Apprentice’s Lot

Sailors holystoning the deckAn Apprentice in the 1950s was a lowly creature, used mostly as a low paid labourer on the ship.  My ‘salary’ on first going to sea was £8 8s per month, which rose to the dizzying £13 16s a month in my final year. It was slightly better than nothing but only just!

We had a one hour ‘study period’ every day when at sea, followed by seven hours working on deck. Exams took place every six months to keep us focused! Cargo watches generally took precedence in port.

The work was generally on deck with the bosun or, if there were more than two Apprentices on board, we worked under the Senior Apprentice. Looking back, it was very good training as, by the time we had finished our four years, we had done most things on board the ship – although for the first two years, we were not allowed to go down the tanks or climb the masts for maintenance. After two years, anything the crew could do, we could do, and did!

As there seemed to be an inordinate amount of rust on the ships then, a great deal of time was spent chipping the decks, especially when the ship had no cargo and was gas free.

As most vessels of the time had wooden decks round the accommodation, a lot of time was spent ‘holystoning’ them. Using a brick of sandstone in a bracket with a broom handle attached, we threw sand on the deck and pushed the ‘holystone’ back and forth until the deck shone white. This was normally carried out when the weather was wet and awful.

On the ballast passage back to the loading port, tanks had to be cleaned and gas freed. This involved heavy ‘Butterworth’ machines that were attached to high pressure rubber hoses, held in place by ropes. The hoses were lowered every hour or so to near the bottom of the tanks, to wash away any remaining residue. On very large vessels the hoses were lowered on a winch, as the length was too great to be manhandled.

Every Sunday morning we had cleaning duties with brass cleaning at the forefront; there was a lot of brass, particularly on the bridge. Captain’s inspection was carried out every Sunday and everything had to be gleaming for that event.

Sunday afternoons, weather permitting, found us practising Morse Code using the ship’s signalling lamps, one apprentice being under the forecastle and another on the bridge sending messages to each other. We became very proficient in signalling as we were often called to the bridge on the 0800 to 1200 watch to ‘talk’ to a passing ship.

After two years we commenced bridge watches, the senior apprentice doing 0500 until 0700 and 1800 until 2000, whilst the others did either midnight until 0300 or 2000 until 2300 on the night watches.

My apprenticeship was completed after three and a half years, as I had already spent three years at the sea school. Then it was time to start thinking of enrolling in a Nautical College to gain a Second Mate’s Certificate.

by Terry Took © 2016

Terry Took was born in Yorkshire but has lived in Tynemouth for over 50 years. He spent 45 years in the Merchant Navy which included 27 years as North Sea Pilot. He then spent five years as a lecturer at the Marine Department of South Tyneside College.

He is now an Elder Brother in Trinity House.

If you have any comments or would like to contact Terry then please e-mail him at pilotone@pilotone.plus.com.