tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67340650227351849432024-03-20T15:10:43.920+00:00Alex Langstone Alex LangstoneAlex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.comBlogger97125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-37519364046281438782024-02-21T20:48:00.015+00:002024-02-29T15:52:23.069+00:00Spirit Chaser: The Quest for Bega. Troy Books Edition<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/spirit-chaser/" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2250" data-original-width="1500" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-vrj03WB7lNdvylB-pem8cAaSlRb9QNDrXvJBzm6pHHGCuVdWeZnBoQ2WXR7SwHxHygwgdYNWsyiq1PUQE-u4n_DRoSGdTix4_pcrnFt_cXYxHohbD74FAUdpM0yjd0zhN9eMUkuLkeq9dav8lkbi-IjZFKsfRNWFiz0BTTa82cGWqZJs26WdTkRhhhG1/w207-h312/Spirit%20Chaser%20-%20Paperback%20cover-corrected%20(1).jpg" width="207" /></a></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/spirit-chaser/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"></a><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/spirit-chaser/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghduIEaSYCLtcTDFI2SnNVztydDHl88rngH8Y8PeKUIkX_OPNNkLjpS3Sutn49rB0voYYeWchn0HPwFPJpoB84fsQmQHeERdYyuXYkqo1uUcawmubD3obncENkljuMCeXKjDtocp_2gVhTqMvPQMNED0Aw9KAfRuxqpqkalFlDwhv1alOP883tz8W4oHg0/w208-h314/Spirit%20Chaser%20-%20Special%20Edition-s.jpg" width="208" /></a></div></div></div><span><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Originally published in 2012, this new edition of Spirit Chaser features a foreword by Ogham Grove author and prolific Glastonbury artist, Yuri Leitch. Plus, a brand-new preface, some amendments and new information by the author.</span></div><div style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Spirit Chaser is the true story of a spiritual quest that turned into an inspirational occult pilgrimage. In June 1989, the author began following a series of psychic messages and significant synchronicity that led him to discover the enigmatic mystery of St Bega, the sacredness of the British landscape and ultimately to experience the divine reality of the Celtic tradition of mysticism, miracles, and magic. Spirit Chaser takes us on a magnificent journey into the twilight past of seventh century Britain and Ireland, and on a contemporary expedition of re-enchantment. This ultimately led into the heart of a modern-day quest, which uncovered the mystery that is the Sancta Bega, the sacred ring at the mystical centre of the British Isles</span><span style="font-family: arial;">.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/spirit-chaser/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3055" data-original-width="1920" height="471" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbsl8Iwh62yENKoGKmNUGdYI7o-8MWw2s7GMEQM8MfK9ftRtkRijjRGjvI1YZ_zj3DOT5xalp1jKsA1VbxLNPI8fp8SnCrH23EY5rV-UD3GoBold4TcLlx1LlZvrkrvAg0mm0w4etoI2qsLAsdK62V1EyVUds2vM4QpfxHG1pqvONinUHSEQr4bXwNIYUU/w296-h471/New%20Spritchaser%20cover%20art.jpg" width="296" /></a></div></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>Spectacular Cover art: </i></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">©</span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> </span><i style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Paul Atlas-Saunders</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>“A glimpse into the spiritual worlds that overlay our landscape.”</i> The Whitehaven News</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i>“Well researched. Engaging. Fascinating.” </i><a href="https://www.audible.com/pd/Spirit-Chaser-Audiobook/B07KJS9HCP?overrideBaseCountry=true&ipRedirectOverride=true&ref_pageloadid=not_applicable&pf_rd_p=f50add7f-c842-4751-adde-62bf930d9265&pf_rd_r=NB64AFZV0D7V37520WVB&pageLoadId=7IcOfIDM04ovxpX1&creativeId=b50d3acf-bf15-400e-8f43-f1ebd0e505ca" target="_blank">Audible.com</a></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The spectacular front cover art is by Paul Atlas-Saunders. Based upon a stained-glass window in St Bees Priory, it illuminates St Bega’s moment of arrival upon the beach below the adjacent headland. As her boat lands, she purposefully places her foot on the sacred spot at the very epicentre of the archipelago, which constitutes modern Britain and Ireland.</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/spirit-chaser/" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Pre-order here</span></a></div><p></p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-91296892256512493102023-12-21T19:12:00.004+00:002024-01-11T21:50:03.267+00:00Lien Gwerin 8: now available <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1287" data-original-width="889" height="438" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdaE_awk1NW5MpbOGLdbEYqfxysVx-3bZeKB1SVi5vXSoVWtRXxQV0_sc_B-W12ZFdNmaxuYFa-kv0TRruLwvXndOWXRh6wyN14ic2g30YQ0JcjcjLnyW-vq2ZtSEwXI6EzSZnfhwP-LbTjBBdphl3U4ghEMJ8tlmANuPV4_sQi3w2sAI15gM9j6C2JJNC/w302-h438/LG8%20cover%20FRONT.jpg" width="302" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The brand new edition of Lien Gwerin: A Journal of Cornish Folklore is now available to order. This is issue number 8, and is the final edition of the series. This issue is full of wondrous folkloric delights, and is beautifully illustrated throughout.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Please order <a href="https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/product/lien-gwerin-8" target="_blank">here</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Contents</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Milva Kernow - A Cornish Bestiary by Merv Davey</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Folklore of the Tinners way by Cheryl Straffon</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Old Looe Stories & Legends Series: Dosmary Pool</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Whitfeld’s ‘Scilly and its Legends’ by Rupert White</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The Myth of Santa Warna by Ithell Colquhoun</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A Rare Treasure of Cornish Folklore by Ronald M. James</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Uter Bosence and the Piskey by William Bottrell</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Interview: Sheridan James Lunt</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Mystery of Tregudda Gorge by Alex Langstone</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Book Review</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Games of Giants: West Penwith Quoits by Karen F. Pierce</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Found Folklore: Bodmin’s Berry Tower by Alex Langstone</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Front Cover art: 'Mermaid' by Sheridan James Lunt</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Back cover art: 'Pen Hood' by Paul Atlas-Saunders</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkySbXyu9VketKoknXUjyFD0xzf7Wj_d2ikc214WMa55RVSvnAzG9LhTRi9qH1Mux921xH6n9mVAEQ5ynq1dCAgYkvSeFASzQzM70wah36_3u4ffLLNNcS0JIJ_1RWEYUnpE3sJMITNcDSZ0KmHBmaZomz1nGKHygrByoVad4uRSptTc4uf-WmHOIX7QhQ/s1843/LG8%20cover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1287" data-original-width="1843" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkySbXyu9VketKoknXUjyFD0xzf7Wj_d2ikc214WMa55RVSvnAzG9LhTRi9qH1Mux921xH6n9mVAEQ5ynq1dCAgYkvSeFASzQzM70wah36_3u4ffLLNNcS0JIJ_1RWEYUnpE3sJMITNcDSZ0KmHBmaZomz1nGKHygrByoVad4uRSptTc4uf-WmHOIX7QhQ/w493-h344/LG8%20cover.jpg" width="493" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><p></p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-56716922357003114892023-10-21T16:34:00.011+01:002023-11-29T22:52:18.104+00:00Folklore of Bodmin’s holy wells<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswNOyBJUBXOjBfylUXCFz2fFBCHkDUTKDK7qSzJ0LTWJpJMJhEFeEP9yrdDE-b9XU1fBieuagJ8PwyIr7LroWp3ZgGutDFgxRiLkm17rRewJ1Gv79ieCte3C3X868Ocy1HliTUjIUE4NbKOI2Fyvy1K0f4k7jWGhb60DWXhyphenhyphenMgvPiVxj6Py0Yay1wiymD/s653/Aerial%20St%20Petrocs2.jpg" style="font-size: large; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="653" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswNOyBJUBXOjBfylUXCFz2fFBCHkDUTKDK7qSzJ0LTWJpJMJhEFeEP9yrdDE-b9XU1fBieuagJ8PwyIr7LroWp3ZgGutDFgxRiLkm17rRewJ1Gv79ieCte3C3X868Ocy1HliTUjIUE4NbKOI2Fyvy1K0f4k7jWGhb60DWXhyphenhyphenMgvPiVxj6Py0Yay1wiymD/w327-h188/Aerial%20St%20Petrocs2.jpg" width="327" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>Folklore of Bodmin’s holy wells</b></span></div><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Alex Langstone</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The historic town of Bodmin, has a long and distinguished history. The place-name means abode of monks, from the Cornish language Bod-meneghy, and was once famous for its priory, friary, guild chapels, sacred relics and a 9th century illuminated manuscript. The town has several holy and healing wells, and they have some interesting folklore surrounding them. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The town's priory park contains the holy well of St Petroc, which lies in a hollow between the football club and Pendower Meadow and was once within the scared enclosure of the former priory. Dedicated to St Mary and St Petroc, little remains of this once great institution, just a few visible foundations, bits of masonry and the fishpond. The well does have a wonderful tale attached to it. During some renovation work in the early part of the 20th century, a wooden statue of St Mary was found concealed in the well. It is believed that it was hidden from Cromwell’s troops during the Civil War. The statue was found to be in a remarkable state of preservation, maybe due to the miraculous qualities of the sacred well? The statue was given to the Catholic community in 1908 and was sent to Buckfast Abbey for preservation and minor repairs. It is now kept at St Mary’s Abbey in Bodmin. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The holy well in St Petroc’s churchyard (below) has a dedication to St Guron, the 6th century founder of the site. The holy well’s source rises under the church and flows through the well house and then out into a trough via two gargoyles. Rush crosses were thrown into the well on Good Friday, to confirm who would still be alive at Easter the following year. If the cross floated all was apparently fine. There is also an early medieval tale told about St Petroc, who miraculously restored the eyesight of a dragon which lived in the valley by the well. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2023/10/folklore-of-bodmins-holy-wells.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1243" data-original-width="1080" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQLdsAT5J-TwmpNaymmTYT30LnJ_FRvXvgOrxbRYEaN1h83NMkZlrlueuiAfKQnUyFU48U_GcQD80OxDYEZFWFDoutJ-9HOclOR3C1E50J-I-sfAA3sr3i0R3i9kROLJuZu-DVorjhbzTYZYEAKWPkmkebuHjV5Izi7jvU1llvJtEtBgB0ExMWX9ljGoDZ/w339-h390/St%20Guron's%20wellhouse.jpg" width="339" /></span></a></div><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Nearby, in the town centre lies the Bree Shute which was also known as the Eye Well. The water here was once famed for curing sore eyes, and a plaque above the well still reads ‘Eye Water’. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2023/10/folklore-of-bodmins-holy-wells.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="810" data-original-width="1080" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsH0od-ZgtIzi4Z2nWCqgE6pYQs3C5J_MPHdC0rImxJq6ujNlh9SvHH_xTyb4Cpt3PYgOmILY5cys_uUJAzZHInbrsEZuQJapQp0z3GlksileafZxs8n6UF7Q3jvwvFuloEChjpDIWP_yly-1jacsgcyWCrpLF9OUHFL_OOkFHfB0MQyY0N6kXDRduELh/w412-h309/eye%20well.jpg" width="412" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre;">On on the edge of the town lies t</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">he beautifully secluded Scarletts well. Sited adjacent the Carnewater river it was historically recorded as a mineral rich healing well. Sited by the town’s parish boundary, the well has frequently been visited over successive generations by townsfolk performing the ritual of Beating the Bounds, where an effigy of a dragon was once ceremoniously paraded. The site is set back into an ivy clad bank, where a spring gushes forth from the hillside and flows into a granite trough which holds the water briefly before its current continues towards the woodland stream. The well was once part of the Priory of Bodiniel and has many stories of healing and miracles associated with it. During the 17th century Richard Carew documented that people flocked to the well for its healing virtues. </span></div></span></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2023/10/folklore-of-bodmins-holy-wells.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2687" data-original-width="1869" height="252" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj67dR0M4WZMTu_1gspzP2UbA4h3aAzSV2CFDbUGpQDrkwGYqnI_OfIHpBFEhrweR3nM4IyDAXQ3_GqStkxRZEGbx1czybH1dESJkTAfFVfLwPYxt6GNqjxxRwxbgtqa4dXH-COIm0p5GmkjK_I_oVhwpx1w_7cxtJKAzX_EDTe4C-MvFXJohj_xPWBiP9z/w176-h252/02%2009%2012%20003.JPG" width="176" /></span></a><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">There is some interesting modern folklore attached to Scarletts well, which may have some alluring indications to an older origin. The well is believed to have been used by many of Bodmin’s wise women and charmers, including Nell Parsons, who used the waters to assist in her trade, and her water pitcher (left) now resides in the collection of Boscastle’s Museum of Witchcraft and Magic. The contemporary mythology of Bodmin witch Joan Wytte, tells us that she also utilised the well for scrying, healing and magic.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A few years ago, whilst visiting this well, I struck up a conversation with a local man, who told me that when he was a child, he knew of a tale about a white lady who haunted the leafy lane around the site. I can find no references to back up this statement. However, a curious story is told about St. Whyte, and although this saint has her shrine in Dorset, she may have been venerated at the nearby church of the Holy Rood and has been linked locally to the towns holy wells. Maybe the tales of Joan Wytte and St Whyte are a folkloric echo of some lost lore of the ghostly white lady of the well? </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Idyllically sited on a farm in Fairwash Coombe lies the Bodmin Holy Well, which was famed for divination. This ancient holy well is also known as The Well of the Holy Rood. There is no public access to the well, but you can visit the site of the Holy Rood chapel, from whence the well takes its name, and the surrounding cemetery is reputed to be haunted. Berry Tower is the only part of the chapel that is still standing, and an apotropaic charm (below) can be seen scratched inside, no doubt put there to help ward off the restless ghosts around the old churchyard.</div></span><p></p><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2023/10/folklore-of-bodmins-holy-wells.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="990" data-original-width="1080" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0iKWnul7WfWXNTUdl8sBLj_UZnRonO3ZAfZx7GUMSLAH4Ex3Hj6kPIYKoQxTwjIPfCZwhgRqKerA5XRbgp76cLWD5s_udg5uLCOBHpwuOjK3atPsbPz3EQ7kzb67JAe7hf_4QuG4PZ7-gBsI7qkQuVyohvV3EqxR-Z8OZMSUmOWuA9eEV7tYoxCQppF0c/w320-h293/charm.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Words and photos copyright Alex Langstone. Article first published in Meyn Mamvro Vol. 2 No. 8 Autumn/Winter 2023</div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-45857372009872616122023-04-12T16:35:00.037+01:002023-04-19T15:03:42.290+01:00 A Peek at the Folklore of Mylor and District<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="." style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxese4Grp2Kge53POBVlRdw8YteZ6Ws5TVq5HYsJYz4-NeX-gIIEQlKABAIBT9LHUdrJw6qt_qprPSL6LajIBckjFDTFqhSkdGqRR5vROlT1Vg1Y8sCscOQAc039Eeci_etmJg_4aFagxsRysotDlp97rpkg7GC8us1wJPqwOQUCamJ2aD4KyJIHroAw/w413-h310/P9210004.JPG" width="413" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span></div><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b>A Peek at the Folklore of Mylor and District</b></div></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Alex Langstone</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">The parish
of Mylor has some interesting and little-known folklore, the oldest of which has
its origins at the ancient and imposing church, which stands in a large oval churchyard
overlooking the creek. As with so many of the early medieval Cornish saints, legend
states that St Mylor sailed from Brittany in 411 AD and landed at a creekside
location by an ancient freshwater spring and a tall standing stone. Here St
Mylor founded his monastic cell in the woods. The holy well and cross can still
be found in the churchyard, and the cross is interesting because at five
and</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">a half metres including its
foundations, it is the largest churchyard cross in Cornwall. It was probably a
bronze age menhir before it was carved with its wheel headed cross design.
Locally it is believed to mark St Mylor’s burial spot.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif_JjyGKrd_z41ANliQ0EFNwSIX0sklpUoIBkxCLT630QzleFKoNP5meJmuTkUXNNVxjCiCSWinI_SP9lNEp2HbrL5irrLJRsfu76LaqdWflBzhdfDKZ5nLcJGFF1x7I5YkfMoE1ORMxgEMxKlxyFgywLUHzQ8i54S42MD67SlO-X046dCFi4baZjbgA/w400-h300/P9210042.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com"><span style="font-family: arial;">Mylor holy well</span></a></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">On the edge of the ancient woodland of Devichoys, where the parishes of Mylor and Ponsanooth meet, can be found a haunted lane known locally as ‘Irish Woman’s Hill’. It was here that sometime during the first decade of the 21st century, a shimmering ghostly manifestation was seen by a resident making her way home. The lady concerned had just turned onto the old coach road which runs alongside Goonreeve Farm, and ultimately terminates at the town of Penryn. These days the road is little more than an isolated narrow country lane. It was a late summers afternoon, and the driver was shocked to witness an old lady standing in the road as she turned into the lane. She was wearing a long, black skirt and had a black shawl over her head and shoulders. She appeared to be wandering slowly along the lane, stopping every few seconds to catch her breath. The local lady followed cautiously in her car, as she trudged along the old lane and around the bend ahead. But when the driver rounded the corner, the lane was empty and there was no sign of the hunched figure of the old lady. After searching the hedgerows on either side, thinking that she may have stopped for a rest, the perplexed driver carried on her journey, pondering no doubt, about where the black-clad figure had gone. Several years later, the same lady met a man who farmed the land on the corner of said lane, She took the opportunity to ask him about the strange incident. Without hesitation the farmer stated that it was the ghost of an old Irish woman who haunts this lane. It is told that she was on a stagecoach heading to Penryn when she suddenly died. It was frequent practise in those days to bury dead passengers on the roadside where they perished. The field here is known as 'the Irish woman's field' because she is buried there. No-one knew her name, nor where she had come from. Though stories of her ghostly form have often been reported, both during daylight and after dark.[1]</div></span><p></p><p></p>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">According to some of the older villagers, the lane where she met her demise, which runs from the junction near Devichoys Woods and going towards Penryn, was often referred to as ‘Irish Woman’s Hill’.[2]</div></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-family: arial; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference" style="font-family: arial;"></span></span></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference" style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Z56mM3nypCMftFbhjIgM-KYTtRV3v48NQTvSOUN2tYf2Z3UUbBcMKPpiv669Ihmd9zf08yXhplOKdqEXpOcee_g64ACrI627L_tIc8qOEQS-SXHNQKJo1csrLRBCZdiM8QVYMCiKKpC88lxPgLUMu-eCBAVUHgHjkx-8MRHNkRjyGStD4zikcuh7BQ/s4130/Mylor%20churchtown.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2829" data-original-width="4130" height="302" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Z56mM3nypCMftFbhjIgM-KYTtRV3v48NQTvSOUN2tYf2Z3UUbBcMKPpiv669Ihmd9zf08yXhplOKdqEXpOcee_g64ACrI627L_tIc8qOEQS-SXHNQKJo1csrLRBCZdiM8QVYMCiKKpC88lxPgLUMu-eCBAVUHgHjkx-8MRHNkRjyGStD4zikcuh7BQ/w440-h302/Mylor%20churchtown.JPG" width="440" /></a></span></span></span></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">The Mayor of Mylor, is an old custom, which traditionally links Mylor parish with Penryn. Traditionally held each Autumn, when the hazel-nuts are ripe, the festival of ‘nutting-day’ is kept. A crowd from the town go into the country to gather nuts. Meanwhile townsfolk would proceed to Mylor, and whilst there, elect one of their number as the sham mayor. Seated in a chair shaded with green boughs, and borne on the shoulders of four strong men, the Mock Mayor and his compatriots process from Mylor to the ancient borough of Penryn. The procession would consist of torch bearers, bodyguards wielding weapons, and two ‘sergeants’ clad in official gowns and raised hats, each wielding a monstrous cabbage on his shoulder in lieu of a mace. The rear was brought up by the throng of the ‘nutters’. As they approached the outskirts of Penryn, the town band would join them and march them joyously into Penryn, where they were received by the massed population of the town. At the town hall speeches were given, and the celebrations went on late into the night, with street fires, music and dancing.[3]</span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span>Another
amazing tale from the village is </span><i>The Black Bull of Mylor</i><span>. I came across
this incredible tale many years ago, and it involves the sighting of a ghostly,
fire breathing black bull, who is reported to haunt Church Lane between the
church wall and Well Ackett:</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><i><span style="line-height: 107%;">One night
the two men were out on their rounds, and were intending to make their way
towards Trefusis Point, so as to pass by the Big Zoon, when after they had
passed the church stile they were suddenly brought to a stop―Away in the
distance, coming towards them, they could hear a fearful roaring noise; then
they could hear the gravel flying, and as the sound came nearer they could make
out the form of a big black bull, tearing towards them with fire coming from
his nostrils, and roaring something terrible!</span></i><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 107%;"> <span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span><i><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p>
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">The tale seems to originate from the 1830s, when smuggling was still rife around the creeks of the Fal and was probably made up (or kept alive) to keep folk at bay during the illicit operations along the creek after dark.[5]</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2023/04/a-peek-at-folklore-of-mylor-and-district.html?fbclid=IwAR2it-F1qbV4q0sE95KfzxzDdR7XDBASOOPeyqTQatNFR6WI0DmHzYmHL5M" style="clear: left; display: inline; font-size: 12pt; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkOaMzjcLXHvJI6FYkcnWozmTd6Rlv2S6XUR_rCKiDnDGiUMvX44JoWmahZhI9hqSdzjJDPEissHbgsqUnKJOdmCpm2wz6p6yqjHQjo4OY4e5ltZH2Nsr50I7MxQtwXdAq3CJTdG-ZRWuL8PZd92Pu9x9McWhajudzmreukk13lV9fI0Dr9rGdq-cJg/w480-h640/P9210024.JPG" width="480" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Church Lane, haunted by the Black Bull</span></td></tr></tbody></table><i style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></i><div><div style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">First published in my regular folklore column in <a href="http://meynmamvro.co.uk" style="font-style: italic;" target="_blank">Meyn Mamvro</a><i> Vol. 2 No. 7, Spring/Summer 2023. </i></span></span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></o:p></p><div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><!--[endif]-->
</span><div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.tremaynehall.org/magazine/2015/2015-04comp.pdf" target="_blank"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 8pt;"> </span></a><span color="windowtext" style="font-size: 8pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><a href="http://www.tremaynehall.org/magazine/2015/2015-04comp.pdf" target="_blank"> www.tremaynehall.org/magazine/2015/2015-04comp.pdf</a> Page 18</span><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="http://www.tremaynehall.org/magazine/2015/2015-10comp.pdf" target="_blank"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 8pt;"> </span><span color="windowtext" style="font-size: 8pt; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">www.tremaynehall.org/magazine/2015/2015-10comp.pdf</span></a><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><a href="http://www.tremaynehall.org/magazine/2015/2015-10comp.pdf" target="_blank"> </a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Page </span>28 <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 8pt;"> Robert Hunt. Popular Romances of the West of England: Sham
Mayors – The Mayor of Mylor<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn4" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 8pt;"> Old Cornwall, volume 1, issue 7, published in April
1928, and written by W. D. Watson.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn5" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="font-size: 8pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span></span><span style="font-size: 8pt;"><span> For a full investigation of this folklore see <a href="https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/category/lien-gwerin" target="_blank">LienGwerin 7</a>, Feb. 2023, pp 48 - 52</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
</div>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><br /></div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-59444096464478753932023-01-23T18:31:00.007+00:002023-04-12T19:24:58.507+01:00Lien Gwerin 7 <p><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Lien Gwerin: A Journal of Cornish Folklore, issue number 7 is now available on general release.</span></b></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">You can order direct from us on the link below. </span></p><p><a href="https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/product/lien-gwerin-7"><span style="font-family: arial;">https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/product/lien-gwerin-7</span></a></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Alternatively, the issue is now available worldwide. Why not order from your local bookshop? Or online via Amazon or our print-on-demand partner Lulu.com</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/product/lien-gwerin-7" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1259" data-original-width="904" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxAf-H8NZY75Qm1QTAjoot-BuISgWaquVer-9tGbFsYExL1eHxdnig8UmHQiI1WI6AqZ5g8HRiPEb-Hzre64Q-FrP8sQTUR6uy59chhU1KpgNIeHuU8AvQbZcZCllTQukJWOShmBS4tsswDLLJW4w7O2GNmxyrgUMzK5GwHvsc7GMi_Al4p3Wj7Ig46g/w461-h640/No%207%20cover%20red%20Promo%20copy.jpg" width="461" /></a></div><br /><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Contents</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The Folklore of the Hal an Tow by Andy Norfolk</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The Old Man of Cury by Robert Hunt</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Cornish River Lore by Alex Langstone</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Folk Dance Collectors in Cornwall by Merv Davey</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">The Morgawr: Elusive in Sea and Folklore by Ronald M. James</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Passing through the Devil’s Eye by Karen F. Pierce</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Book Review: Fern Seed & Fairy Rings</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Hazel Trees in Cornish Folklore by Rupert White</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Black Prince Flower Boat by Kathy Wallis</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Obituary: Dr Alan M. Kent</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">First and Last Folklore by Katie Giles</span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;">Plus original art by Paul Atlas-Saunders</span></p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-86669528469168550842022-12-09T06:29:00.006+00:002022-12-09T06:37:33.338+00:00Original Art Work for sale by Paul Atlas-Saunders<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvAC8JpZqwPCtOxQJd6fvZViTCQ7EcJd9D1H8RZahqTjgWKQQQ2pFKCfK_TqXewvxF7wOQteP14C3e0SpK-HC9xI4_Ungq1Q-oipIP1pbc_dj9v6iGD3oEwG2sp3fEGiznv_oQGNDOi6W0fB_g0ZwMZiGNVM8RaZhx-WzWlqRWQ9q1KMXHQGoWJIMTg/s1200/Shop-4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKvAC8JpZqwPCtOxQJd6fvZViTCQ7EcJd9D1H8RZahqTjgWKQQQ2pFKCfK_TqXewvxF7wOQteP14C3e0SpK-HC9xI4_Ungq1Q-oipIP1pbc_dj9v6iGD3oEwG2sp3fEGiznv_oQGNDOi6W0fB_g0ZwMZiGNVM8RaZhx-WzWlqRWQ9q1KMXHQGoWJIMTg/s320/Shop-4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">We now have some of Paul's originals for sale that he produced for my two recent books <a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/">The Liminal Shore</a> and <a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/from-granite-to-sea/">From Granite to Sea</a>. Check link below for details on how to purchase</span><p></p><p><a href="http://www.troybooks.co.uk/catalogue/paul-atlas-sanders-artwork"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>www.troybooks.co.uk/catalogue/paul-atlas-sanders-artwork</b></span></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1732" data-original-width="1222" height="461" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivh0iJIfw-JbyL2KlFEa5oXtDjZm0LnmFpm15tyCGc3ozfhpYHeACk4-iPmtW7HmPp8tSKof9FER_u1oIhsrLyGj44SIosiI9BY8HVbkIZcTucPl_qly_TekB3W1tHftCO6gEifgCbiLZ_ildaEqnVP4PYuJ6ddFL05BqIKCXpQdx3_12R_rrYRBIATA/w326-h461/WP_20170811_11_32_44_Pro%20(1).jpg" width="326" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-7485688618417180992022-10-26T18:09:00.036+01:002022-12-10T15:04:07.170+00:00 Devils, Witches and Shucks of the Essex Saltmarsh<p style="text-align: center;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5492" data-original-width="10903" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZdHpm6QWVbQIHc6wHRjCkBVYxRYfRsQ4u2uXoz-xu3Ze2rV1xBXdXmi9gjjsjAehPHMTpN7PIxiWlH8U10I0Yxstmv9P0kjymkvLgU2s01RyMF65a_HwiWFMDxICTmeFASn3x2cutLNeP9zcWje9_P2xXMZJaF4XxDBjMXUd9cQyUrzJ8tUjz69a6LA/w418-h211/THEDEV~1.JPG" width="418" /></span></b></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: x-large;"><b>Devils, Witches and Shucks o</b><b>f the Essex Saltmarsh</b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Alex Langstone</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The Blackwater estuary is a vast expanse of tidal power, and is a shoreline littered with the ghosts of my ancestors. Here is a strand where the clandestine places of land and sea merge; punctuated with mysterious, secretive, and isolated islands. Osea, Mersea, Ramsey and Northey; Cobmarsh, Pewet and the Ray all sit on the water here, some now more accessible than others; due to land drainage and tidal flux. Here the highest tides bring overspill and nervous excitement that the old alluvial marshes are once more, creeping landwards, reclaiming their mysterious past.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The red ochre sails of traditional barges once plied their trade upon this waterway, which links land, river, and sea to generations of cultural traditions and interesting lore. This magnificent estuary where the river Blackwater meets the North Sea, is recognised as a Ramsar Wetland site of international importance.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">It was here, on this eastern coast that in pre-Roman times the Celtic tribe of the Trinovantes held sway. Collaborators of Boudica and the Iceni, there isn’t much now to show they were here, but the ghosts of this lost British tribe survive deep within the land and on the tides. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/10/devils-witches-and-black-shucks-of.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="357" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilVk_zlD0-OzbUyiig7rha8G7EILrlsi1MTUNzRH_5lf2U0qMRGTw2ZRGNIdXDQes7hNMfSUub9mI3PuWdpQrzCmon3vYwY6Gm9w2OnxXCiuimfdRUDmnbqI1tHyla_tMRTunKyXuX2HMr77_3PWn2_l0YGdGeepfLTQWGO8hMtp7J-jy-QIrhJ8JYVg/w475-h357/P5040415.JPG" width="475" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Thames barges at Hythe Quay, Maldon. </span></i></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">These low lying and desolate salt marshes of the Essex shore are eerily beautiful in their bleakness. The marshy lip of the coastline between Brightlingsea and Maldon is particularly stunning and most definitely enchanted. This estuarial district of mid-Essex was once the hub of eighteenth-century smugglers, as barges could be sailed right to the head of the many creeks of the district, and Salcott Creek was at the centre of the illicit operations, where cargoes were unloaded and thrown into a marshy pool. The pool was actually a pond, which had been built with a false wooden bottom, which could be drained to retrieve the goods once it was safe to do so. Many of the old houses facing Salcott creek were lookouts for the illicit traders and hurricane lamps were put into top windows to warn that it was not safe to land. </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: right;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Just to the west of Salcott lays the moated site of Devil’s Wood. This site is linked to the folklore of the Devil and Barn Hall. This traditional old Essex folk horror narrative is a classic example of diabolical devil lore, with layers of interesting themes to explore. The basic folk legend goes something like this - </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">One day, a local squire decided to build Barn Hall in what was known as Devil’s Wood. Soon after the builders had begun to dig the foundations on the small island in the centre of the wood, strange occurrences had begun. It was hoped that by building the new hall at this spot would forever thwart the Devil’s sabbaticals from gathering in their traditional meeting place. Each morning, when the builders returned, they found the trenches they had dug had been filled in. This went on for a few days, so in desperation, the squire ordered that a guard be put on duty during the night, to find out what was happening. On the first night the guard heard someone approaching.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">"Who goes there!" he shouted. "I, Satan and my hounds," was the reply.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The guard replied, "This place is protected by God and me." The Devil and his hell hounds turned and fled. On the second night the Devil once more appeared. Again, the guardsman inquired as to who was there, and again Old Nick revealed himself and his pack of demon dogs. Only this time the guard made the mistake of declaring that only he was protecting the site, and not God. On hearing this, the Devil picked up a piece of building timber and declared “Wherever this timber falls, you shall build Barn Hall". The Dark Lord threw the timber high into night sky, and it twisted and turned over and over until it landed a mile or so to the west. The demon hounds then surrounded the guardsman, preventing any escape.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> The Devil turned upon him, and with the hounds baying, ripped out his heart. The Devil then vowed that he would have the man’s soul whether he was buried inside the church or out. It was eventually decided that he should be buried within the church wall. There are those who say, that if you look closely, you can make out the Evil One's claw marks on the walls of All Saints parish church, where he tried in vain to search out his soul.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">In the north wall of the church at Tolleshunt Knights you can still see an effigy of a knight holding his heart. The Devil’s hounds, incidentally, are said to haunt the nearby marshes on stormy nights, and the folklore of the Tolleshunt Knights Devil may indicate that we have recovered some lost wild hunt lore of the Essex coast, where the Devil and his demon hounds chase across the sky and into the grainy swamps of Salcott Creek. Here, under the light of the full moon and glistening stars, they continue to haunt the marshes and collect the lost souls of long dead bargees and fishermen of the past.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The beam, which the Devil threw up the hill was incorporated into the cellar of Barn Hall, which can apparently still be seen today. However, it would be an unwise to attempt to view it, as the Devil placed a curse on the beam, so that anyone who dared to enter the cellar would receive his deadly spell. Barn Hall was built at the beginning of the sixteenth century, so the tale can probably be traced back to this time, if not earlier.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/10/devils-witches-and-black-shucks-of.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="2738" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPZsh_BdS8pU9eqHQHwKyLRl2S7vh0lvVh_piU-GxZBp0ktcEk-hUQVNR_xDTAO9RAVeNVerR2IiLn1gddAQSBI-HY9uBX_T1r3BHNKGeMsOKu9FfeCUqL3Jr1Gllwz_m-tRAArVI7CED_bPoQ-p1oQIS_L7jreOYWPNltYfn-jfn6D_pOzGH8jqeaoQ/w491-h215/P5030195.JPG" width="491" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>The haunted Devil's Wood at Salcott, which hides an ancient moat and island, the secretive home of the Devil and his ghostly hounds.</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The fields surrounding Devil’s Wood are believed to be haunted by strange beings. An account from the 1980s gives us a clue as to how the area can cause panic through its eerie reputation and unusual atmosphere. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The harvest had been completed, and the farmer was keen to get the field ploughed before the weather broke. He asked his son to plough the field into the evening, and the young farmer ended up using the powerful floodlights on the tractor to get the job finished. As the darkness of night fell across the land, the tractor driver began to glimpse movement along the edge of the field. At first, he thought that he was seeing a fox on her twilight hunt, but as he continued to plough his furrows, he began to feel very uneasy. He was convinced that he was being watched and he kept seeing and hearing movement close to his tractor. A large dark shape then cut across his path, and in a panic, he stalled the tractor. As he tried to restart the engine, he became aware that something unseen and malevolent was trying to open the tractor door; he turned the key again, now frantic to escape. The engine spluttered into life, and he headed off at full speed across the ploughed field. The tractor was bouncing around dangerously, but the young farmer wanted to get away from the terrifying dark field as soon as he could. He eventually reached the road and he headed home. The field was sold soon after this incident, and folk are still wary of driving past it at night.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The plough and sail village of Tollesbury lies on the northern bank of the Blackwater estuary and is almost completely surrounded by salt marsh, reed beds, creeks, fleets and saltings. This area is a truly wild part of the Essex shore, with little development, and is home to a huge variety of wildlife. Although once extinct, this part of the coast is now, once again, the domain of Marsh Harriers and Short-Eared Owls. At the end of the nineteenth century there were close on one hundred fishing smacks operating from Tollesbury Fleet, and oyster fishing was the main industry. The village has always been reliant on both the sea and the lands fringing the salt marsh for agriculture.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The old wind-blasted woods on the edge of the saltmarsh around Tollesbury are said to be ‘devil ridden’ and have been rumoured to have attracted the ghosts of many local witches and others practising the old folkways and magical arts. Related to this is the local ghost-lore of a phantom druid, who manifests once a month under the light of the full moon. During this time, he appears in all his ceremonial regalia in the woods on the edge of the mire. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/10/devils-witches-and-black-shucks-of.html" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="8721" data-original-width="5599" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSN27-2qZf7G77r5B-oHgkMpdtZX_EJF6uFGYodnvIXYw5BZdK8FY_xV06J6eeFSKCWl_AZY3bS8Ue_oWzwklw3u8YvhuHcGpwWt7mjnUv075-18NfbitRINn5sONBe_juZJAUJgjYxPQFdxF5TXvi3iJxmdZBjp-tngNqiEigyHDDHtNeR2G3QGH1Hg/w275-h430/Ghostly%20Black%20Shuck%20by%20Paul%20Atlas-Saunders.jpg" width="275" /></span></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">These ancient saltings on the north shore of the Blackwater estuary are also home to the ghostly Black Shuck or Phantom Seadog. One tale tells us that William Fell, marshman and gamekeeper, was travelling home one dark night from Peldon. His horse and trap was trundling along the Wigborough Road towards Tolleshunt D’Arcy when a huge black dog as big as a calf, and with eyes like bike lamps mysteriously appeared and followed the trap right up to Guisnes Court. Another tale tells us that on a frosty and moonlit January night at the stroke of midnight, a local girl was cycling from Salcott to Tollesbury to fetch the midwife. There was one spot along the road that she always hated, by the lane to Gorwell Hall, known locally as Jordan’s Green. This isolated spot had always been feared and disliked, as it is where a man was once buried with a stake through his heart, giving rise to all sorts of gossip, including that of a vampire. It was at this spooky spot, where the cyclist saw a large black dog, its head level with her handlebars, and whose body was as at least as big as her bicycle. The dog was reported to have a black coat which looked unkempt, and a huge tongue which looked like velvet. It kept pace with the girl until she reached Seabrooks Lane when it disappeared. The girl eventually reached the midwife, and on her way back, the dog again appeared at the junction with Gorwell Hall Lane, where it appeared so large that she could barely cycle around it. Gorwell Hall Lane is also the spot where a mysterious ghostly white lady can sometimes be seen, and nearby during the 1960s a cyclist reported being attacked by a large black dog at dusk, whilst travelling down the coast road, towards Goldhanger. He apparently leapt off his bike to scare the animal, and it promptly vanished before his eyes.</span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Belief in witches and magic was still rife up to the beginning of the first world war, and the following accounts are from the early part of the twentieth century. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A local counter witchcraft charm was practised in and around Tollesbury, called branding the witch. This involved cutting a piece of your own toenail and placing it with a lock of hair from the person who had cursed you. These were both thrown into a fire. Immediately afterwards, you should place a poker into the fire, and allow it to get red hot. It was then slowly withdrawn from the flames, and as you did so, this would brand the witch and break the spell. The cursing culprit could then be identified, as he or she would show burn marks on their bodies.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/10/devils-witches-and-black-shucks-of.html" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2515" data-original-width="3977" height="323" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivIW2oWJRWX-B8Fr0YDXCIHKPBMMdBqQPLkfCOVMFpjkPWf2Q1rBkplmREHZt0M8ne7bQZ--TdPzIN8IegU7a13V55uLrtmBJleZuKeEAtGgR_3-t7HxYbqAMvSJAUzRLrlqSTWcFTeIxJ8z_dHYf0XBB3pJwNihWQgKsk9R8RjBuWmEVBVbgF5Wadaw/w509-h323/Tollesbury%20waterside.JPG" width="509" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Tollesbury waterside, where the old sea witches once plied their trade</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Another counter witchcraft charm was used when someone had been ‘overlooked’ by a witch. You should light the copper and get the water almost to the boil. Set the ‘overlooked’ or ‘cursed’ person down by the water, and place one of their legs into it. You should get the person to keep the leg in as long as they could bear it. Then put them to bed. The following day the person was healed. However, the witch would be suffering with a scalded leg, so was identified.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Tollesbury folk had yet another way of identifying a witch. It was believed that if you saw a mouse and a cat eating from the same dish, the owner was a witch. Mice were favoured creatures of the Essex marsh wizards and witches, who kept them as familiars to help make magic. One Tollesbury sea witch was suspected of bewitching her son’s oyster smack. Each time he dredged for oysters, he would overshoot the spot. Unfortunately, there are no records of any names in this piece of sea-witch-lore. There was also a gypsy witch who travelled around the village, and at least two others who lived in the village, who had reputations as cunning folk, and were consulted about things strange and uncanny and children were warned not to look at the cottage where one of them lived. <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The parish church of St Mary the Virgin sits upon the highest point in the village and parts of the building date from the eleventh century. The ancient churchyard is haunted by the ghost of a white rabbit which is reported to appear and run around the graves on some of the darkest nights of the year. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">To the north-east, towards Brightlingsea, the Devil haunts the marshy promontory between Pyfleet Channel and South Geedon Creek. There was once an old weather-boarded shepherd’s cottage called ‘Found Out’ on the edge of the marsh. It sat by an old pond at the end of the old cart track from Langenhoe Hall Farm. The old cottage arrived at its unusual name through a strange old folk tale. </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">When the Lord God made the world, this was the last place He found out – and the owd Davvil was a-living here then. </span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">This little shard of marshy land to the north of Mersea Island is the Devil’s country, and another story concerning the ‘Owd Davvil’ has him joining the twelve strong mowing gang as the thirteenth stranger called Hoppin’ Tom. This was originally recounted by marshman, adder-catcher, bull-tamer and poacher, Ted Allen, and was told something like this -</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Once, long ago, a gang of twelve men was sent to mow Langenhoe Marsh, and very soon after they began work, a mysterious stranger surreptitiously joined them. The men were soon feeling irritated, as he mowed faster than any of them, and as a result, he earned much more money. Then one chap spied that he had cloven hooves and knew at once that he must be the Devil. Subsequently, the mowing gang formed a plan, and they had thrown down a load of iron bars in the long grass overnight. The following morning, ’the Owd Davvil’ mowed through the iron with ease, it was like they were made of butter. But later when he came to draw his pay, the farmer spied his hooves, and exclaimed “You’re the Davvil called Hoppin’ Tom, and I won’t pay you” and the Devil let out ‘a shrik like an owl and flew off in a sheet o’ flame’. As Tom flew off, he threw his drinking bowl into the field, and that’s why we still call the small pond the ‘Davvil’s Drink Bowl’ to this day. We never saw Hoppin Tom again after that; well not us, anyway. </span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Hidden within this old folk tale, we may have a folkloric echo that leads us into the secretive world of traditional marsh-magic, where twelve members met with the leader of their clan, to make the witchy number of thirteen. Perhaps it was on the very cusp of Langenhoe Marsh, that the leader of this mysterious group was once known as “The Owd Davvil Hoppin’ Tom”.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><i>The above excerpts are taken from my recent book - The Liminal Shore: Witchcraft, Mystery & Folklore of the Essex Coast, published by Troy Books.</i></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><b>For more tales of witchcraft, mystery and magic of the Essex coast, please click the book cover, which will take you to my publishers website, where you can purchase a copy of The Liminal Shore</b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2764" data-original-width="1843" height="591" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPyI2APjhg7wSCUH4y4U-3sHFVuAj3CJEdaezzzzB_j5cxLSDDDoiwVtpB1CyQU5uF11qJc36ZTmDXpHC-j484NhONMswkLhyB6bAIuSFFQ5WpZToFArsHpu7b1JeIwVrQVODBKNCj6RUAxkjthI90IfDFW5KmmgwaoZ7-z7C6MHlNmV1Foh96SLBENA/w394-h591/The%20Liminal%20Shore%20-%20paperback.jpg" width="394" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"Thoroughly steeped in a sense of place..all in all it's a cracking book, and a must be for would-be marsh wizards, psych geographers and folklorists alike"</i> The Enquiring Eye</div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div><i>“This book will be read in the decades to come, still delivering stabs of wonder and delight”</i> David Southwell. @HooklandGuide</div><div><br /></div><div><div><i>"Highly recommended - a very good and informative read" </i>Nigel G Pearson</div></div></div></span><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Photographs copyright Alex Langstone. Illustrations copyright Paul Atlas-Saunders.</span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-86598160515464323152022-10-18T17:04:00.018+01:002022-10-20T11:57:23.127+01:00Modern Cornish Piskey Encounters<p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_6NccryMt9UlZUwfQbz_kdu-O0yz3K4mDcaGr8lLI9PCXHv6JiZNlEzvMDQVvdIMN3ZuUudi3cnzL6lV7FU8NjLHyQNyq0jshYQ6r74RE1LMnNLcg_oU6tbwcJMuKS5UgrtBFDKgzq9h-uAr_bhinVzhgvbcdxySaOOR8KYm8eilYJWMk822bkiTsg/s646/From%20Bottrell%20%20Uter%20Bosence%20and%20the%20Piskey.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="646" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_6NccryMt9UlZUwfQbz_kdu-O0yz3K4mDcaGr8lLI9PCXHv6JiZNlEzvMDQVvdIMN3ZuUudi3cnzL6lV7FU8NjLHyQNyq0jshYQ6r74RE1LMnNLcg_oU6tbwcJMuKS5UgrtBFDKgzq9h-uAr_bhinVzhgvbcdxySaOOR8KYm8eilYJWMk822bkiTsg/w352-h168/From%20Bottrell%20%20Uter%20Bosence%20and%20the%20Piskey.jpg" width="352" /></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-size: 26pt; text-align: center;">Modern Cornish Piskey Encounters</span></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; text-align: center;">Alex Langstone</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span>There are numerous stories of the little folk within the
scope of Cornish folklore, where Piskies, Knockers and Spiggans appear to the
unwary, often leading them astray, both from place and through time. The 19th </span><span>century folklore collections of Bottrell, Hunt and Courtney are full of Piskey lore,
and during the following century, the likes of Enys Tregarthen and Cecil
Williamson continued to collect the lore of the Pobel Vean from across
Cornwall. These tales, from the beginning of the 20th </span><span>century to the
present, seem to illustrate that sightings of these fascinating elemental
creatures are still with us, as they continue to map themes from popular
culture through modern times, from laundry duties in a stream at dawn, to peculiar
characters waving from a ‘</span><i>flying saucer’</i><span> over the skies of St Merryn. Furthermore,
during his tenure in Boscastle’s witchcraft museum, Cecil Williamson was
regularly asked why there were so many stories of piskies on the Cornish moors.
He would answer - because there </span><i>are</i><span> so many piskies on the moors. </span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">A curious tale of a Piskey sighting
from 1936 at Marsland was collected and recorded by author Marjorie Johnson</span><span style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-style: italic;">. </span><span>[2]</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal; text-indent: 36pt;">“A few years ago, on the Cornish-Devonian
border, I was surprised to see on the cliff above me the figure of a tiny man,
dressed in black, strutting round in a rather vain-looking way. So incredulous
was I of the existence of the 'pisky' people that I said to myself, 'In a
minute I shall see what he really is - a bird, or a shadow'. But no, he went on
being a tiny man.”</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;">The same author recorded other
relatively modern Piskey stories from Cornwall, including one curious entry
which mentions Padstow’s own 20</span><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;"><span>th </span><span>century folktale collector, Enys
Tregarthen. In a letter to Marjorie Johnson, a Mrs Agnes Taylor states that the
last time she visited Nellie Sloggett (Enys Tregarthen), she witnessed a Piskey
sitting on her shoulder</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.</i> [3]</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;">In conclusion, and from the same
source, we have reports of sea fairies at Looe, where in 1943 a Mrs Clara Reed
described the creatures as w<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">earing a
skirt of seashells and a bodice of seaweed, and she had a row of shells round
her neck and a large shell on her head. </i>The sea sprite was reported to have
told Mrs Reed that her husband would recover, despite being taken seriously ill
whilst serving in the Army</span><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;"><span>.</span><span> </span><span>[4]</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;">In </span><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;"><span>St Merryn, sometime during 1910,
two girls saw a red object resembling a boat or ship among the clouds; the
object contained a large number of little dwarf-like creatures that were
chattering, laughing, and pointing down at the witnesses. </span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[5]</span></span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span><span>
Was this interesting and somewhat absurd account, somebody’s first ever
sighting of an airship or, maybe even UFO? There is little else written about
this, but around thirty years later further north at Kilkhampton, three girls
saw a little man riding around their garden in a tiny red car. It was a dark night,
and the girls were awoken from their slumber by a noise. One girl heard a
buzzing noise, whilst the other two heard bells and music. When they looked out
of the window, they all saw a little man in a tiny red car driving around in
circles, he wore a red droopy pointed hat and had a white beard, and he looked
very happy. </span><span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[6]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span>
</span><span>One of the girls, Marina Fry later had correspondence with Fortean writer and
investigator, Janet Bord, and stated that she was four years old when she had
this experience. [</span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">7]</span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">During 1964, a Goblin (Piskey?) was witnessed
among the reeds of a stream at Treago Mill, near Crantock. Whilst holidaying in
the area, Wiccan Priestess Lois Bourne had a chance meeting with fellow witch
Raymond Howard whilst out walking on the local coast path. Mrs Bourne and her
husband were subsequently invited to Treago Mill for dinner, and consequently
found themselves accompanying Raymond Howard on a pre-dawn ‘goblin’ hunt to a
nearby stream, and at daybreak, they witnessed a ‘goblin’ washing his socks in
the cool clear waters of the brook. Lois Bourne described her supernatural experience
thus: </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">“</span><i style="text-indent: 36pt;">Sitting on a stone calmly washing his socks was an elfin creature with
red hat, green coat and trews, one yellow sock on and one in his tiny hands in
the process of being washed.</i><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[8]</span></span></span></span></span></div></span>
</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="172" data-original-width="270" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD1bBRWUhFKCknAZ07ILA539YC3YuGUViGSGQdrLqgmai4TYS019ORilU5vnI53pFWNXMlDFP8tKjzxnAUkAapZseyW67MtB8kfM44xX0jwlAf2WmWmTa7KsveKPJdCSaG2mlnHCPPIiJSMt9uRGjNohvKo_bab_2fXMVCeBPa0SdRSz-rvRDJGJa2ew/w400-h255/Treago_Mill__Porth_Joke__near_Crantock_2-97_142.jpg" width="400" /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; text-indent: 0px;">Treago Mill</span></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Finally, to bring us into the 21</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span><span>st</span><span> century, within the collection of the Museum of Witchcraft & Magic there is
a recent account of a Piskey (or possibly more correctly a Spriggan)</span><span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[9]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span>.</span><span>
In 2016 an elemental ‘fairy’ type of creature was glimpsed at Boscawen-Un stone
circle. The elemental was seen close to the centre of the circle, and a
painting produced by the witness gives it a very romantic human appearance, remarkably
reminiscent of the Pre-Raphaelite ideal of how a fairy might have looked. </span></span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[10]</span></span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span><span> </span></span></span></div><p></p><div><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1645" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjphxsBTswlNc7VZdTLJWh_jTs9fK5ldqbL-JTrxl9Yi11RzjPHvn0stkG25W_VAtk6dI0v0HmalmiOs9X-0W0VkPHdTYZ58H0EVgTfYupWejs6ebbWZdlNbQfG_fzMdpFc2E3-834yyUHkEdO1F6wpazho_TpWYFsxX6fWMzXeq6oXd2hfwhFAHGVunw/w263-h400/Pisky%20of%20Boscawen%20Un.jpg" width="263" /></span></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Fairy as seen at Boscawen Un by Ivan Clark</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span><span>The museum also has another interesting piece of 1960s art </span></span>depicting piskies<span><span> dressed in red, playing cards under a large toadstool, </span></span>using a<span><span> human skull as their table.</span></span></span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"> Illustrated<span><span> below</span></span></span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">. </span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference" style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 17.12px; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[11]</span></span></span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span></span><span style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"><span> </span> </span><span style="text-align: center; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span></span></div><p></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]-->First published in Meyn Mamvro Autumn 2022 <a href="https://www.meynmamvro.co.uk/backno2.htm" target="_blank">Vol 2 No 6 </a><br clear="all" />
</span><hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><!--[endif]-->
</span><div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span>
From the Pisky Painting write up, exhibit 1642. Museum of Witchcraft &
Magic<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Seeing
Fairies: From the lost archives of the Fairy Investigation Society, by Marjorie
T. Johnson, pp 236, 237<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Ibid,
pp 73, 74<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn4" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Ibid,
pp125, 126<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn5" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> The
Folklore of Cornwall by Tony Deane and Tony Shaw, p 65<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn6" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[6]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Ibid,
p 65<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn7" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[7]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Modern
Mysteries of Britain by Janet and Colin Bord, p 157<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn8" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[8]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span>
Witch Amongst Us by Lois Bourne, p 34 (1979) and Dancing with Witches by Lois
Bourne p29 (1998)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn9" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[9]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Popular
Romances by Robert Hunt: The Elfin Creed of Cornwall<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn10" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[10]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span>
Exhibit 3796, <a name="_Hlk101727329">Museum of Witchcraft</a> & Magic,
Boscastle<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn11" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[11]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Exhibit
1642, Museum of Witchcraft & Magic Boscastle (illustrated below)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="686" data-original-width="491" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKSI7A5mo_tkkJP-6VnQLIyOKIPIOR8W7znbEpAAaE9WG6jvXrkZEtZppq-FErczxV8i1Retz-sZl1lVG3WZxAImShce91FRKDigcULrN_j6_Hw7HCBhbToAVUq0gZ3fiKPoFHdjrxJNzTPTuPGE4Xa3-YdGUAE-ABnHPQl_dNBS-fI1pT0roTBpJwPA/w458-h640/MOWM%20pisky%20poster.jpg" width="458" /></a></p>
</div>
</div></div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-68328194894460822322022-06-21T13:08:00.018+01:002023-02-15T17:42:51.857+00:00Spirit Chaser: The Quest for Bega, 10 years on<p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixi7jh8B1zbNb4_vak24l93S6u6cVTxT17wbnAe-WaKAFktfJxI3ovJT7ig_lpekuZ1tPXO-Of06ExlsC5NP9M68Caa4tl4glZGuuPAxt33RZ3LUYT7-Lw-gSE-5Sbbe3IATlP-UAc2qILywC5JKcd1A8wdQcTJOjWMhgRcnkb4JLXRwOyTry1bCViyQ/s924/Spirit%20Chaser%20top%20quality.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="610" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixi7jh8B1zbNb4_vak24l93S6u6cVTxT17wbnAe-WaKAFktfJxI3ovJT7ig_lpekuZ1tPXO-Of06ExlsC5NP9M68Caa4tl4glZGuuPAxt33RZ3LUYT7-Lw-gSE-5Sbbe3IATlP-UAc2qILywC5JKcd1A8wdQcTJOjWMhgRcnkb4JLXRwOyTry1bCViyQ/s320/Spirit%20Chaser%20top%20quality.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="text-align: justify;">21st of June, 2012, saw the publication of my psychic questing work, Spirit Chaser. This paperback tells the story of my very personal interaction with the folklore, mystery and history of an obscure Irish saint called Bega and of the land that she inhabited 1,400 years ago.</div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Many readers of my more recent folklore works, may be surprised to know that my first full length book was about my experiences out in the landscape, where I was able to fully immerse myself in the hidden realms of Nature and interact with the Genius Loci at the centre of the British Isles. <br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">According to the concept of psychogeography, the idea of something as mundane as a walk can be expanded and constituted through a conscious contemplation of both place and walker’s relationship with it. This can be both deepened and expanded through psychic interactions with layers of story, lore and myth, where it somehow morphs into a kind of 'occult topography', which seems be a more descriptive term for this type of practice.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Spirit Chaser tells the story of my very own attempt at this type of interaction. At the beginning of 1989, I started having a longing to return to the Cumbrian fells. I had no real motive, apart from some remote and brief childhood memories of a 1970s family holiday, where vast lakes and high waterfalls had imprinted somewhere in my consciousness. I was 24 years old and I was interested in paranormal phenomena, folklore, earth mysteries and the practice of witchcraft and neopaganism. I was also involved in the countercultural, cultish and liminal world of psychic questing. With all of this floating around my psyche, looking back it was inevitable that I would end up on a spiritual adventure of discovery and pilgrimage, which incorporated many, if not all of the above interests. The nostalgic spectre of it all is now very apparent, and the interaction with the 'Genius Loci' - that elusive polytheistic and animistic spirit of place has become commonplace in all the more creative areas in my life. For this is when magic happens, at the point where we begin to connect.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />If I were to write Spirit Chaser now, it would have undoubtedly been written very differently. However, as with all writers' work, it has become a snapshot of my life, frozen in time. </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Here is the back cover blurb:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzcTPEP73BT8zZcNxjGueVI8nJ5HvNSSRZam4yOeCnQy1lUmnFJEPLPQhleEoHqlHXrHEtEH4-gFBnNC_i7KW3t-0H1C4OKMezmvCLglp98SXj_HpMUnO-E7aAc0dl5ETq-0188Hk3fbow_CnS5oZjcdY33Ysa6KhENmzTw-sWvHFTDHhhUt8RZ0F8Q/s1386/img20200709_11562810.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1386" data-original-width="870" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKzcTPEP73BT8zZcNxjGueVI8nJ5HvNSSRZam4yOeCnQy1lUmnFJEPLPQhleEoHqlHXrHEtEH4-gFBnNC_i7KW3t-0H1C4OKMezmvCLglp98SXj_HpMUnO-E7aAc0dl5ETq-0188Hk3fbow_CnS5oZjcdY33Ysa6KhENmzTw-sWvHFTDHhhUt8RZ0F8Q/w162-h258/img20200709_11562810.jpg" width="162" /></span></a></div></div><i><div style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">This is the true story of a psychic quest that turned into an uplifting spiritual pilgrimage. In June 1989, the author began following a series of psychic messages and significant synchronicity that led him to discover the enigmatic mystery of St Bega, the sacredness of the British landscape and ultimately to experience the divine reality of the Celtic tradition of mysticism, miracles and magic.</span></i></div></i><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Spirit Chaser takes us on a magnificent journey, a journey into the twilight past of seventh century Britain and Ireland. A journey into the heart of a modern day quest for the mystery that is the Sancta Bega; the sacred ring at the mystical centre of the British Isles.</span></i></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The book is available as a paperback <a href="https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/product/spirit-chaser-the-quest-for-bega" target="_blank">here</a>. You can also listen to it on audio CD <a href="https://circleofspearsproductions.square.site/product/spirit-chaser-the-quest-for-bega-cd-audiobook-/49?cp=true&sa=true&sbp=false&q=false" target="_blank">here</a> and via Audible <a href="https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Spirit-Chaser-Audiobook/B07KJP5318?ref=a_author_Al_c9_lProduct_1_1&pf_rd_p=af5062e9-57de-425c-9e02-6d8ad006b9aa&pf_rd_r=C055CSC97K0PM86J4DE9" target="_blank">here</a>. (Audio versions narrated by Jon Lane, and produced by Circle of Spears Productions).</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">You can read Cheryl Straffon's review of Spirit Chaser on page 11 of <a href="https://www.meynmamvro.co.uk/archive/mm80-winter-2013.html" target="_blank">Meyn Mamvro issue 80 here</a></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">In 2014 we published a limited edition hardback edition, celebrating 25 years since the beginning of the quest. There were only 30 copies produced. We now have only 2 left, and they are available <a href="https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/product/spirit-chaser-the-quest-for-bega-hardback-signed-collector-s-edition" target="_blank">here</a></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvy67KVHN7dpW9W6J4aPGsEF1P2KR_Ng8z_tAXTIOk4Sqf-2V-PxU1oRdxTObX_x1MKKvt4_vgdvencyVkJaduns7jBEu4L_ip9jA4gP_KIPz9oTpYjeikUuXKw8HU-rrsn109JQODXGOdo0ObvWnbK8a-sR2QI1_x0KmL02QxM-kxHP0SnETrWJkaew/s1046/SC%20collectors%20edition.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="1046" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvy67KVHN7dpW9W6J4aPGsEF1P2KR_Ng8z_tAXTIOk4Sqf-2V-PxU1oRdxTObX_x1MKKvt4_vgdvencyVkJaduns7jBEu4L_ip9jA4gP_KIPz9oTpYjeikUuXKw8HU-rrsn109JQODXGOdo0ObvWnbK8a-sR2QI1_x0KmL02QxM-kxHP0SnETrWJkaew/w398-h174/SC%20collectors%20edition.jpg" width="398" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: white; font-size: medium;"><i>"Well researched. Engaging. Fascinating. Langstone's research of the history of Celtic Christianity is just outstanding. This story weaves the deeds of saints, historic buildings, fantastic beings, mythical objects, woods, waterfalls, and standing stones into a map for a pilgrimage to real places that can be accessed by real people - by any of us" </i><a href="https://www.audible.co.uk/pd/Spirit-Chaser-Audiobook/B07KJP5318?ref=a_author_Al_c9_lProduct_1_1&pf_rd_p=af5062e9-57de-425c-9e02-6d8ad006b9aa&pf_rd_r=C055CSC97K0PM86J4DE9" target="_blank">Audible.com </a></span></div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-27126480273489828382022-04-23T17:17:00.011+01:002022-06-14T10:32:27.259+01:00Video release of book launch for The Liminal Shore<p style="text-align: center;"> <iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="342" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/S0xJZYKqLXw" width="411" youtube-src-id="S0xJZYKqLXw"></iframe></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="200" height="72" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_jEN5y_yfnRszMF02aGkxzdFEvSWHpAuEm8WyC8C1FrzLvyz2ENR2KpiBnbYRQ3UM5OPD6Kl3BQvRcO_HyOdQipe4z_akTVhUWrUVT2uBV_gW4Nt2kkmX9uonfDV3qY3Bf68q8UP1zm4cNqq2J4OsTIsBe2EAcmRUtnF7u7qwTK-XPd3IH9-fpn7orA/w141-h72/BUY%20NOW%20(1).jpg" width="141" /></a></div><br /><div>With thanks to Anna Dowling, Jane Cox and Gemma Gary</div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-86378938801698572432022-04-10T14:38:00.010+01:002022-08-31T17:42:07.855+01:00Footprints in Stone<p style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html"><img border="0" data-original-height="2618" data-original-width="3976" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimpFqaESHJZWFRE9agZor5AD_14MisskPaQ2oCPJlSQmhrGLpVYRr7NBlyzD59Hd0mR4VPLCnRVZTQKOMMNDBx6Li3PkhShQhsUA4FcY68LtQhQZlVtjSAkXxnf72Rze8TtIDzS4cbiv3Di_GwOvIsCbwtCU_2qpPjnDK76hIO-hz_C7CgOfu3qvoI5w/w402-h265/Buccas%20hoofprints.jpg" width="402" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html">Bucca's hoofprints at Tolcarne, Newlyn</a></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Footprints in Stone</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Petrosomatoglyphs in Cornwall</span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">by Alex Langstone</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I have long been intrigued by ideas of topographical features relating to giants and other legendary figures. These petrosomatoglyphs, such as footprints and handprints, can be found all over the world, and seem to variously belong to kings, devils, saints, horses and giants. Cornwall has its own stony prints and our journey begins on Tintagel Island.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>King Arthur’s footprint is located at the highest point on the island, and centuries of erosion make it difficult to judge whether this is a natural feature or not. It has been discussed as an important place of inauguration, where a king was required to stand as a symbolic gesture of territorial leadership. However, there is nothing recorded in Cornish folklore on this custom, but there is evidence elsewhere in Britain. The ancient seat of the Kings of Dalriada at Dunadd in Scotland had a tradition where the newly crowned king would place his foot into a “stone footprint” on the land to symbolise his rule, similarly with St Columba’s footprint at the Mull of Kintyre, and the footprints of Fergus Mór mac Eirc at Crinan Moss. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html"><img border="0" data-original-height="2482" data-original-width="1862" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY3JwmdQcWhjR1vmT15-fY8nq4k07H5ES68oYGR0FeMNUFC3FpGkWXr7ss-fnUkpnnRpztEq1K0Ohci7HpbG0e7R-KHsY9bT8M0SZFryPyMfbBWx81wSfTwGC604QpqYmFhc6nCQ-BCl1q9oVfAZTiwbr91yrOIRbflqAIY8UrFOtsRsxV5jYbTQWIMw/w366-h488/Picture1.jpg" width="366" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html">King Arthur's footprint, Tintagel Island. The church of St Materiana can be <br />seen on the opposite cliff</a></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The Tintagel footprint story has been repeated often since 1889, when it was first suggested that King Arthur could step one stride across the sea from the island’s rocky footprint to the parish church on Glebe cliff, linking two very important sites. Another example of this amazing folkloric deed is found at the Carn Brea Neolithic hilltop settlement where we find giant Bolster standing with one foot on the summit and the other on the top of St Agnes Beacon. It is interesting to note that whilst Carn Brea is lacking a stony footprint, it does have a giant’s handprint on the top of one of the massive, weathered granite stacks. This is linked to the hill’s very own resident giant, known as John of Gaunt, and alongside his hand, we have his petrified stony head protruding from an outcrop at the eastern end of the hill. John and Bolster would throw rocks at each other, demonstrating their rivalry, and it seems that Bolster won this game, as Carn Brea is littered with rocks, whilst St Agnes Beacon is smooth and clear.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html"><img border="0" data-original-height="261" data-original-width="500" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-v26WNGOJijWBljWj54QH5OUBSisODQ-wgdRmbNhpVJcUX59VBPH0wDM0Yqq3jfWgSMdG9S1E-dDGEZu-IUv4fNAxC7m4oYlUTBluvQR8-v5BzoyU4IiGSA34EUmBmSv8FZdC9Q-vlrHG7co3YGKEhScmhL0yIhsX8uxowEDdRJRKnmoSG45K-j6qkQ/w442-h230/St%20Agnes%20foorprint.jpg" width="442" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html">The footprint of St Agnes (or sometimes ascribed to Giant Bolster) Chapel Porth. Pic: Rupert White</a></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: medium; white-space: pre;"> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The legendary holy woman, St Agnes has her own immortal footprint set into stone at Chapel Porth. Located in the valley, not far from the ruins of her old chapel and well, where in the early eighteenth century, local historian Thomas Tonkin recorded:</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“She likewise left the mark of her foot on a rock, still called St. Agnes Foot, which they tell you will fit a foot of any size” </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: justify;">The St Agnes footprint is also sometimes ascribed to the giant Bolster. Interestingly there is another giant’s footprint at the rocky outcrop known as Creeg Tol in West Penwith.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Goss Moor lies in the heart of mid-Cornwall, and was once the home of King Arthur's Stone, which was recorded as having several indented hoofmarks, which were described as the prints of King Arthur’s hunting horse, which was kept at Castle an Dinas. This old folk narrative is perpetuated in a ghostly encounter, which states that Goss Moor is haunted by the shimmering apparition of King Arthur and his knights. Cornish historian Samuel Drew recorded one of the most impressive ghost sightings linked to Arthur. Around the end of the eighteenth century, King Arthur’s ghostly army was witnessed in the sky above Castle an Dinas, in a wild hunt. Around a century later, Henry Jenner recorded a story from an old man at the hamlet of Quoit, who had seen the ghosts of King Arthur's soldiers training at Castle an Dinas hillfort, and recalled the moonlight glinting and reflecting from their broadswords. Nearby can be found the remains of a Neolithic chambered tomb called the Devil's Coyt and this site maybe connected to King Arthur’s stone, as it also has the imprint of a cloven hoof on its surface. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_nB2NbtcdESUDOLtZRNEYR9lyeKsKVEIHdGs64GB3AoH50UVhGndfnwsIP6hnm8qIxG8WUG1FiIO7WADb78vw0CHMnxr8UCxbU5UXuOT7myzo-eTTRQUCQWRI0vlYdhBBQN8xCXn2g8J8NOstXeiV2AkEIaKvKn_pqZV51fukKiuoR9CX_lLpJuPnA/w412-h309/P5090007.JPG" width="412" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html">Devil's Coyt</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>On the south shore of the Duchy, lies the fishing port of Polperro, and it is here where we encounter our next stony footprint. The village is home to the Devil’s Hoofprint, which is also known as the Devil’s Doorway, where the Dark Horned One rides up from his eerie domain in a glistening black coach drawn by his enormous midnight stallion with glowing red eyes. The spooky tale informs us that as the Devil and his coach materialised from the egress in the rocks, Satan’s Stallion left a gigantic fiery hoofmark in the slate. This can still be seen today as a hoof-shaped pool, which is filled twice each day by the flood-tide. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In the far west of Cornwall, we have our final rocky footfalls. These can be found set into a large stone at Tolcarne, which rises to the rear of the fishing harbour at Newlyn. This rock, locally known as Bucca’s rock, is believed to show the Devil’s (or Bucca’s) footprints on the top, and around the base is the solidified print of a fishing net. The story tells us that in the year 1592, the Devil decided he wanted to go fishing. He stole some nets from the Newlyn fleet and headed towards the harbour. However, he was discovered by some of the choir of St Peter’s church, and they chased him away from the harbour, whilst chanting the Apostles’ Creed in the hope of exorcising him. The Devil strode out across the valley, trying in vain to escape, and finding that he could not flee, increased his body size to that of a giant, flapping his dark outstretched wings, he flew to the top of Tolcarne, uttering the words Bucca, Bucca, Bucca! </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="4608" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCvOjEuotBR0Etv3Tp3WssVezcbKZ6sB0RpZfUNfhNZLOXNXpjpA-s74_R3eIiqdekeMwXJPln06ZQMlqeQrVOPXrvMpBo8fSCKsEWxWSUE0KhuMwlsViFkMcDuSg2fBk6__6uST6jt0M-z-DBQMDbGcCFu7G6VMhiLUlX1zjFHEc3o7DVRXMEBJzVPA/w373-h280/Tolcarne%20rock.JPG" width="373" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com/2022/04/footprints-in-stone.html">The summit of Tocarne, Newlyn</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Article first published in <a href="https://www.meynmamvro.co.uk/index.htm" target="_blank">Meyn Mamvro </a>Vol, 2 No. 5. © Alex Langstone<br /><br /><p>With thanks to Jane Cox, Gemma Gary and Rupert White.</p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-20989896498848147382022-03-05T00:42:00.020+00:002022-06-14T10:33:56.463+01:00New Release: The Liminal Shore<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0pRn7h5kJeQSQ4KrpR6ojt46JPT94biaIAiApN4b8PYzWW9vgZyY_F37cWJEPLehP5cTMQ_atGAU_DffgTSG97TjY9HiY3JMA7Bw-5vGx8DPpPtBKTbtRy4_ibJfU-Ih3kTE8UlSLwUtOKgt9jma5cx7d3wqw_tifrskbVwDklUKoAkkh6VlrCwbc9w=s2764" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2764" data-original-width="1843" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh0pRn7h5kJeQSQ4KrpR6ojt46JPT94biaIAiApN4b8PYzWW9vgZyY_F37cWJEPLehP5cTMQ_atGAU_DffgTSG97TjY9HiY3JMA7Bw-5vGx8DPpPtBKTbtRy4_ibJfU-Ih3kTE8UlSLwUtOKgt9jma5cx7d3wqw_tifrskbVwDklUKoAkkh6VlrCwbc9w=w426-h640" width="426" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My latest book, The Liminal Shore: Witchcraft, Mystery and Folklore of the Essex Coast is now available to buy on the publishers website: <a href="http://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore">www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore</a></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">The Liminal Shore is a brand-new work, seeking the spookiness of the isolated salt marsh and the hidden lore of the urban shore. Detailing and cataloguing some of the captivating cultural legends, myths, and folklore from the fascinating coastline of Essex and its eerie and brooding borderland. The author explores many remarkable old folk-narratives and traditional tales of marsh-wizardry, cunning magic, and sea-witchery, alongside some of the region’s most enigmatic spine-chilling ghost-lore. The peculiar calendar-customs and eccentric festivals are also investigated, bringing to life many of the old and often forgotten rituals of this interesting and enchanted coast. Discover such characters as Hoppin’ Tom, Mother Redcap, Cunning Murrell, Rollicking Bill and Jop Summers, who among many others form part of a rich and diverse folkloric history of this deliciously atmospheric, strange, and often unexpected coastline.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The book features illustrations by Paul Atlas-Saunders, and a foreword by David Southwell.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com"><img border="0" data-original-height="2764" data-original-width="1843" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgbp21Jdk0fsr1kr_DDboxR1A7_sQhpnXOiIAiM6DXMe15O6Xou0M6ib2lgD9JYUtUqgsk5T9CP56WSh2ZEVpx_C7Ok08pKlY937lOgN66UzdqLe_fDNm0sTAOwiMXJ8pcgUSlguIXFjJJEO5mMkcV0vJgQ7D8hR9tBBloNcCABmCiogMSc3iIP1sBfCw=w186-h280" width="186" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com">Special Edition</a></td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com"><img border="0" data-original-height="2764" data-original-width="1843" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgKqU5aVDjQGt75ZUAOiyipx0QpwnIAkbi2QFqRAGPqJk2tHDp4pptKt7AUndLXK9S2MYorKqM-Mk19-SthmgTiwS8tueNvxqwP0I6OiYV698sGSFcAOi0VphgI2YERshEAKqdWgPYFwrQdNq5OxkNhK1MCn_-GbS68dm_9n3pW1CUZb7vo1hVvub3vcg=w184-h276" width="184" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://spiritofalbionblog.blogspot.com">Standard Hardback</a></td></tr></tbody></table> <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"> </div><div style="text-align: left;"><div><br /></div><div><i>"Highly recommended - a very good and informative read"</i> Nigel G Pearson</div><div><br /></div><div><div><i>“This book will be read in the decades to come, still delivering stabs of wonder and delight” </i></div><div>David Southwell, @HooklandGuide</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="200" height="102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJxrmDT2zcbgweA_ZVF1tMhfBrpKocwMSDbd9IzYu5jPJPNt01PpfPdOykj_On80O1-jb2Z6j6GrkF6FCWPhvka3gHSBkRaboQPXa4Fv-IAjoE6ddhOlIwy9KquWjF-QDHcXrgm8nXKUUp6uShGJQTGwTQ0pir4xXZfwK2cmPg7xbn3rva1eWkw6ypPw/s1600/BUY%20NOW%20(1).jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div></div></div></div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-87372121780859609202022-01-23T12:46:00.012+00:002022-03-02T06:07:48.401+00:00Lien Gwerin 6 now on general release<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/product/lien-gwerin-6" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1273" data-original-width="901" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhLpdWeHq6rnegioCY-EeTty7pqg3ECGhpyQfza90GROLsozlZJQjeR0W7vqKvDYy9ywAOljHqdXg9QEfeD6jfZytU7MaHLgY7wnFXiLb_p3Ek0b3moixY1N5mREHftzywKjIcFwMNuJMePjmNWNWjsHYDhpYL8z04GxtHb2S4oF7eqejrpw0LItMQguQ=w453-h640" width="453" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The sixth annual edition of the Cornish Folklore periodical is now available. Published every February, each issue contains a wealth of original research, recorded lore and traditional folk narratives from across Cornwall. The journal regularly features some of the leading writers and academics specialising in Cornish folklore and culture, alongside classic reprints from the heyday of folklore collecting. Lien Gwerin aims to showcase the best in folklore, social history, myth, legend and culture from across the the rugged peninsula. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="font-size: medium;">A5 148 x 210 mm, perfect bound, 110 pages, fully illustrated throughout.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Contents</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Lark in the Morning by Merv Davey</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Bizarre Beasts of Cornwall by Alex Langstone</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">T.F.G Dexter: Cornish Pagan by Rupert White</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">St Keyne’s Well by Robert Charles Hope </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Gwithti an Pystri: A Cabinet of Folklore and Magic, reviewed by Alex Langstone</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Industrial Drolls: The Sub-Genre of the ‘Cousin-Jack Story’ in Cornish Folklore by Alan M. Kent</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Rambles and Ruminations around the inner life of the Fogous of Cornwall by Steve Patterson</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The Stone Men of St Cleer by George Basil Barham</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Donald R. Rawe and the ‘Night on Roughtor’ by Karen F. Pierce</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Review: The Cornish Folklore Collection. Vol. 1</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">The St Allen Piskies by Alex Langstone</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">PLUS original artwork by Paul Atlas-Saunders, Tony Shiels and Harry Maddox</span></p><div><a href="https://alexlangstone.bigcartel.com/product/lien-gwerin-6" target="_blank"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">ORDER HERE</span></b></a></div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-43522722918775058502022-01-04T14:16:00.011+00:002022-05-21T19:36:14.686+01:00Enquiring Eye 6<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-iP4QVugyA8gbUBhT24KKOhfNlb9apxAlLgCEEWMw_B8FChZtY1BW_IQgBYAhWxqFSaRttyxY-_C6Xbra2MZyceR1nUIXue2JpQFVySX5dHZSEAt6ax8_9cZA43D30nv3RkxSNfTCjLqAn1eaqg1f9nOkCWxzAQCQQJy7RmtS-pcZtM2rPhmGFxfUWQ=s1227" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1227" data-original-width="823" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh-iP4QVugyA8gbUBhT24KKOhfNlb9apxAlLgCEEWMw_B8FChZtY1BW_IQgBYAhWxqFSaRttyxY-_C6Xbra2MZyceR1nUIXue2JpQFVySX5dHZSEAt6ax8_9cZA43D30nv3RkxSNfTCjLqAn1eaqg1f9nOkCWxzAQCQQJy7RmtS-pcZtM2rPhmGFxfUWQ=w269-h400" width="269" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>The latest edition of The Enquiring Eye is now available, with many interesting articles, including a great overview of ghost hunter and folklore collector James Wentworth Day by Steve Patterson, a close look at the Bardic chair of Gorsedh Kernow by Alan Kent and my own c</span><span>ontribution </span><i>The Salt Marsh Devil of Old Essex,</i><i> </i><span>which is based on an excerpt from my brand new work - </span><i>The Liminal Shore: Witchcraft, Mystery and Folklore of the Essex Coast. </i></span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i></i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">You can get a copy of the Enquiring Eye, issue 6 </span><a href="https://museumofwitchcraftandmagic.co.uk/shop/the-enquiring-eye-issue-6/" style="text-align: left;" target="_blank">here</a></span></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;">You can order a copy of The Liminal Shore <a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/" target="_blank">here</a> </span></p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-77987826090757140152021-11-20T05:32:00.004+00:002022-04-11T04:45:42.305+01:00 Grampound and District Folklore<p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4oKkjZ4IEnx3AJtvjM73uJG8a52jMTGOoOZCc-S57OXJE_4EMFJ7QMtO2AktGLxk62J8oZkW5eJkY8y06foaRG8QJAu4oVuI9ely4BN9_SSx5ei97btnH3EeCrM3fb7UQUyQoNYe3uloE/s2048/St+Cridda%2527s+moody+light.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1636" data-original-width="2048" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4oKkjZ4IEnx3AJtvjM73uJG8a52jMTGOoOZCc-S57OXJE_4EMFJ7QMtO2AktGLxk62J8oZkW5eJkY8y06foaRG8QJAu4oVuI9ely4BN9_SSx5ei97btnH3EeCrM3fb7UQUyQoNYe3uloE/w387-h310/St+Cridda%2527s+moody+light.jpg" width="387" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;">Folk Custom and Culture
in Creed Parish</span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;">Alex Langstone<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 20pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">Situated in
the Fal Valley, in the heart of Mid-Cornwall, you will find the village of
Grampound. The name is Norman-French, and means ‘great bridge’, and was
recorded in Cornish as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Ponsmur</i>, as
far back as 1308.<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span>
The village has several old traditions and some interesting, recorded folklore.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;">In early January each year, the Grampound Wassail once took
place. Visiting the hostelries and homes of the settlement, this wassail was of
the ‘visit’ persuasion, and was probably similar to the Bodmin wassail, which
is still a living tradition. This kind of wassail visits homes and hostelries, and
in Grampound, they would have carried their wooden wassail bowl, collecting
money and beer, whilst entertaining the villagers with the Grampound wassail
song. The custom died out in 1933, when the bowl fell to pieces. The traditional
song was recorded by</span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;">Dr
Stevens of Perranporth in 1933,<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span>
and can be viewed online.<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[3]</span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: right; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHzqOqpb6ltGv7cdqFqs5F6_mg_0KZ7KoMBUk48i3va7-LMuKUEMOyscNy6HjkJX5cVUyEQqLUprYcPXGc1n9RtN8Ybgg3-qcX7Jue7H7_yHNovrjb1Oxmu2lbHQrpQ8Xs7PQ7tnC1njg/s2048/P4090053.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXHzqOqpb6ltGv7cdqFqs5F6_mg_0KZ7KoMBUk48i3va7-LMuKUEMOyscNy6HjkJX5cVUyEQqLUprYcPXGc1n9RtN8Ybgg3-qcX7Jue7H7_yHNovrjb1Oxmu2lbHQrpQ8Xs7PQ7tnC1njg/s320/P4090053.JPG" width="240" /></a><span style="line-height: 107%; text-indent: 36pt;">The legend of the market cross features the 15<sup>th</sup> century
octagonal standing cross, which is sited in the centre of Grampound, in front
of the nineteenth century rebuild of St Naunter’s chapel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The monolithic monument is believed to stand
in its original position and its name and location indicate that </span><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">it acted as a
focus for market trading and other meetings. There was previously a 14</span><sup style="text-indent: 36pt;">th</sup><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">
century chapel of ease on this site, built to help accommodate the growing
settlement around the large parish. Therefore, it is more likely that this
cross was originally an ecclesiastical monument linked to the old chapel. There
is a local tradition that if you run around the cross nine times, in an
anti-clockwise direction, you will summon the devil. The cross was described in
the 1920s as </span><i style="text-indent: 36pt;">“no more like a Christian cross than chalk from cheese. The
discerning reader will recognise that it is a fertility symbol, phallic in
origin, and in purport comparable with the hermae of the Greek markets”</i><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[4]</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">St Crida’s parish church lies to the south of Grampound, in
the hamlet of Creed which is nestled in a green valley, close to the banks of
the Fal. The legend of St Crida states that she was the daughter of King Mark,
and she founded the religious settlement, where the church now stands, for
herself and her followers during the 6</span><sup style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">th</sup><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"> century. A spring that
flows at nearby Manheir is thought to be the place where Crida’s holy well was
once sited. There is still a spring marked on the OS map close to Manheirs Farm,
which may allude to this statement; and a village tale tells of Crida’s nuns,
who would stop at the stream that crosses the track close to the church, and
there would confer blessings and invoke prayer. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">You can still hear the running water from this
sacred brook, which flows unseen, beneath the road, as it makes its way to
merge into the River Fal in the valley below.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">The name of the farm is probably a corruption of the old
Cornish language word </span><i style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">managhes</i><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">, which translates as nun,</span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
commemorating the sacred settlement that Crida founded in around 520 AD.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: left; text-indent: 48px;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-WyUh_Zf1nu-sGxBNFaiTrmqjLrlP0A0cQMwiAH3x5bYP6EI5a4NvbacA-cPdLx0C4g_iVeCLrebMaJyshCWNbG2v4dhfbA2Us9ZjdxdQcipqqDKq48zGa9vowRzilj6UhUX10Df_4PRb/s2048/North+door+with+%2527Devil%2527s+window%2527%252C+Creed.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1365" height="243" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-WyUh_Zf1nu-sGxBNFaiTrmqjLrlP0A0cQMwiAH3x5bYP6EI5a4NvbacA-cPdLx0C4g_iVeCLrebMaJyshCWNbG2v4dhfbA2Us9ZjdxdQcipqqDKq48zGa9vowRzilj6UhUX10Df_4PRb/w162-h243/North+door+with+%2527Devil%2527s+window%2527%252C+Creed.jpg" width="162" /></span></a></div></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">The church was largely rebuilt in the 15</span><sup style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">th</sup><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">
century, and during this time a guild of St Mary Magdalene was established at
the site, with an altar dedicated to her cult. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">However, the church is thought to have its
origins with the arrival of Crida in the 6</span><sup style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">th</sup><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"> century. In the north
door there is a small hatch known as the devil’s hatch, which was customarily
opened during Christenings to allow evil spirits to escape the building to the
north.</span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[6]</span></span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-indent: 36pt;">The mile long lane between Grampound village and St Crida’s
church, which undulates across the wooded hillside is undoubtedly an ancient route
and has been used for centuries as a church path, bringing the dead to be
buried in consecrated ground. There is an old stone coffin rest sited roughly
midway along the side of the lane, which gave respite for the teams of coffin
bearers on their journey.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">Whitsuntide was once a grand affair in the parish, where a
Whit Tuesday processional march was enacted to St Crida’s church and back to
the Dolphin public house, where beer and </span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">black milk was consumed.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;"> </span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 36pt;">There was also a teetotaller march in
afternoon, with a tea treat in the field opposite the town hall. The main event
was held in the evening, where the Grampound furry dance was held along the
main street. Cecil Sharpe collected some details of the Grampound furry during
his visit in 1913, where it was described as a similar dance to Helston’s more
famous counterpart. However, one or two differences were explained, where
couples held hands crossed in front of them as they danced forward, and how the
procession would stop every so often so that the dancers could reform in a
ring, going first clockwise then anticlockwise around in a circle. At the same
time, other dancers would perform a six-hand reel inside the circle, and every
so often the band would assemble to perform within the dancers.</span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[7]</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit; mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span></span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1508" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShzA8ssLPsadAzxyl8lmEzOxBsBAUEpfviwW7K-ERFJLp4u7mOU0tzdQcACCxHXbsDLvleXvuURy5L9NsO1Xxh4rgVBjpFReCLBoWycNx2uaJdoUI1IkMY5enCk-QgtsA_bsliac-rzO7/w236-h320/Creed+Coffin+Rest.jpg" style="text-indent: 48px;" width="236" /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiShzA8ssLPsadAzxyl8lmEzOxBsBAUEpfviwW7K-ERFJLp4u7mOU0tzdQcACCxHXbsDLvleXvuURy5L9NsO1Xxh4rgVBjpFReCLBoWycNx2uaJdoUI1IkMY5enCk-QgtsA_bsliac-rzO7/s2048/Creed+Coffin+Rest.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p>
<div style="mso-element: footnote-list;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><!--[endif]-->
</span><div id="ftn1" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Cornish
Place-Names and Language by Craig Weatherhill, p 114<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn2" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Grampound
and Creed: A Guide to the Churches by Mary Oliver (privately published church
guide).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn3" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> <a href="http://cornishfolkloretales.blogspot.com/2021/04/grampound-wassail-song.html" target="_blank">cornishfolkloretales.blogspot.com/2021/04/grampound-wassail-song.html</a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn4" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Pagan
Origins of Fairs by T. F. G. Dexter. New Knowledge Press, Perranporth, 1930<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn5" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Grampound
and Creed: A Guide to the Churches by Mary Oliver (privately published church
guide).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn6" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[6]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> Ibid<o:p></o:p></span></p>
</div>
<div id="ftn7" style="mso-element: footnote;">
<p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[7]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span> <a href="http://www.an-daras.com/cornish-customs/Clay_Country_Customs.pdf" target="_blank">http://www.an-daras.com/cornish-customs/Clay_Country_Customs.pdf</a></span></span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span style="font-size: medium;">Article first published in Meyn Mamvro. © Alex Langstone</span></p>
</div>
</div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-49491190332426646432021-11-15T04:36:00.009+00:002022-06-14T10:35:32.995+01:00The Liminal Shore - promotional video<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="343" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cO5bN32qPek" width="452" youtube-src-id="cO5bN32qPek"></iframe></div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="font-size: large; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore" target="_blank"><b></b></a><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore" target="_blank"></a><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="102" data-original-width="200" height="102" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOAgC15S35y8S9rhykqdnLAvYCTZm7ZkNyOcbJiR8MKNMatIX1mFHZ0D424tRXT39NKEg2o7pCQFsFi2HPy4DlYgrc0p8_u3IH9YfrkJeOA3p5h9s2Y72vhk1-tP7DI3sSZqZIXSZd2R1f4i4nPIL1x56tjpz7BLjQBUMjA21N7owWDrRIxd2-a7WrEg/s1600/BUY%20NOW%20(1).jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><br /></b></div><p></p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-75495729883115252882021-11-04T16:16:00.010+00:002022-06-14T10:37:04.373+01:00New Title: The Liminal Shore<p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">My latest book, <i>The Liminal Shore: Witchcraft, Mystery and Folklore of the Essex Coast</i> is now available for pre order on the publishers website: <a href="http://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore" target="_blank">www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore</a></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk3WTe6iQ3Jtv1Wi1UgtPpfFVFEwdSY4hRODwJopMVQzxX0avCJju1Pvm6Hlr7HXIjoyzp4EZToPcGLFOnGn6VvRhyqdDJ3a1POTsa2dEoKKJhDG06ZW7XBB90pcql5p3KyGlrr6PfA2ZJ/s2048/The+Liminal+Shore+-+paperback.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQR9prpzJrnnMxxqZa_ST6oxj3FthNBlH5dI7jv9N2ewZOz_70nbVbvnjNhdPm7B0UDIqVMlfRskc0nk5B2oq8GsQaJaY7yT-UHCa1WAHHTQwpq9nGJOEgvGHLh13lwo7kKdQNMCdyZ469/s320/The+Liminal+Shore+-+standard+hardback.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">The Liminal Shore is a brand-new work, seeking the spookiness of the isolated salt marsh and the hidden lore of the urban shore. Detailing and cataloguing some of the captivating cultural legends, myths, and folklore from the fascinating coastline of Essex and its eerie and brooding borderland. The author explores many remarkable old folk-narratives and traditional tales of marsh-wizardry, cunning magic, and sea-witchery, alongside some of the region’s most enigmatic spine-chilling ghost-lore. The peculiar calendar-customs and eccentric festivals are also investigated, bringing to life many of the old and often forgotten rituals of this interesting and enchanted coast. Discover such characters as Hoppin’ Tom, Mother Redcap, Cunning Murrell, Rollicking Bill and Jop Summers, who among many others form part of a rich and diverse folkloric history of this deliciously atmospheric, strange, and often unexpected coastline.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The three hardback editions (two of which are very limited print runs) are shown below, and are available to pre order on <a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/" target="_blank">Troy Books</a> website now. The paperback edition (above) will be to follow.</span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;">The book features illustrations by Paul Atlas-Saunders, and a foreword by David Southwell.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeoCiNg8Os6MNRhLp9BaiUSBaKve8qEGnZfwkY3JuKlzsPFgmiXVUdCipjdRu2u9R0MTFvP_IL2wDT7UZIT2aNhcEmbgc5YdHB0JpB5wxI8QsDcgiDo92l1b2zUNWd1A271bI-y2D41slyUQurxZ3dKu3JmnHkH6cK-9TYzMz8q8kDCnvrxDu50v2nIw" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><img data-original-height="2764" data-original-width="1843" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjeoCiNg8Os6MNRhLp9BaiUSBaKve8qEGnZfwkY3JuKlzsPFgmiXVUdCipjdRu2u9R0MTFvP_IL2wDT7UZIT2aNhcEmbgc5YdHB0JpB5wxI8QsDcgiDo92l1b2zUNWd1A271bI-y2D41slyUQurxZ3dKu3JmnHkH6cK-9TYzMz8q8kDCnvrxDu50v2nIw=w212-h319" width="212" /></a><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1366" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha3qLJ4CR5KGlZ_FHGlwAYfkLdj9eNEDZKz9gwxAj5UfzZY12qYk1FqsmFJlurinxwqHI8vCkwom8QaFNiAR0o_oAu6zh3iGY_awJ2Jp9wd6LQB6asHcBtRZrsBvL_cS246AdFN6jfGQJC/s320/The+Liminal+Shore+-+special+edition.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.troybooks.co.uk/the-liminal-shore/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="1267" data-original-width="845" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjID5nHntQ9J9vzPydlIKIRd2OftFiQZuopCNed5Er9_6p4eNeDTaccHvdxnGT_7p2emW2i4bbjUa2NDjFt7yqk78vLkxJ1NPTb6SUlVYyQqLFPYaoujPz0pEJ7zlBD8jXuSpyzyvFlq-WB/s320/The+Liminal+Shore+-+fine+edition+-+option+2.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>“This book will be read in the decades to come, still delivering stabs of wonder and delight”</i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://folklorethursday.com/creative-corner/970/" target="_blank">David Southwell</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://folklorethursday.com/creative-corner/970/" target="_blank">@HooklandGuide</a></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-11904338495714892072021-09-19T11:30:00.012+01:002022-11-21T17:31:50.970+00:00Porthtowan Folklore<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><a href="." style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1305" data-original-width="2048" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8WCMln9xpCQ3vH6GYPAnZkRAh2XAqPOCK5ASmugJ9JI4KdM9gIEYNihopO9W_lEdgyvlm8oG8qqT87syGdJOimh6pJdrqNUu1W0F1SJConbjfeljpZTpFa1aLQieTskFPlAKJnDPmmUy/w400-h255/Porthtowan+11+09+007.jpg" width="400" /></a></b></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><div style="font-weight: bold; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b> </b></span><b style="font-family: inherit;">The Dark Mysteries and Folklore of Porthtowan</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Alex Langstone</span></span></div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">Lying on the dramatic north coast, midway between St Ives and Newquay, the coastal village of Porthtowan nestles amongst one of Cornwall’s most iconic and historic mining landscapes, now part of the UNESCO world heritage site. Perhaps less well known is the hidden history and folklore of the area, where ghosts, legends and dark mysteries abound. Robert Hunt, the eminent collector of Cornish folktales and narrative had this to say about Porthtowan Beach:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The Voice from the Sea</span></b></i></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">A fisherman or a pilot was walking one night on the sands at Porth-Towan, when all was still save the monotonous fall of the light waves upon the sand. He distinctly heard a voice from the sea exclaiming,— “The hour is come, but not the man.” This was repeated three times when a black figure, like that of a man, appeared on the top of the hill. It paused for a moment, then rushed impetuously down the steep incline, over the sands, and was lost in the sea.<span><i> (1) </i></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">This paragraph is fascinating, and from the description it is easy to stand on the beach today and visualise the order of ghostly events. Having lived in Porthtowan and stood by the tide line after dark many times, it is clear that the fisherman or pilot was walking along the beach heading towards the east cliff. For this dramatic cliff rises steeply from the cove and has a distinct and steep pathway which adjoins the sand at its base. It is amazingly easy to imagine this dark figure standing on the clifftop, briefly silhouetted against the night sky, then heading down the precarious path and onto the sandy beach, before running into the pounding waves. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">At some point in time, an extra piece of the tale has been added, possibly through a village droll teller, where the dark figure heads into the waves towards a ghost-ship, which mysteriously appears from a sea-mist on the ocean’s horizon.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> Many ships have been wrecked nearby and again, Robert Hunt recorded that where a ship was wrecked the souls of the drowned sailors will haunt the shore and call out to the dead. <i><span>(2) </span></i><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium; white-space: pre;"><a href="/" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1105" data-original-width="1854" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQoQAYwPkz8BY7NtyMfOwCH0OEgWeB1ClPtwniTqkuqzLfj5Jpgzc4pOTjrs7RGE5PngMWDLPRlI_NGRAeNz_ZKzBz0oK04KXXfDOx-D-tU0Y7v05iMglwILx2LzVL59wc8OrDobELTqFB/w400-h239/Porthtowan+11+09+016.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: medium; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">As the tide recedes, other adjacent coves become accessible, and Lushington is a rocky cove immediately to the west of the main beach, guarded by the famous Tobban Horse rock. This beach always seems to have a cold feel about it, even on warm sunny days, and many folk wont hang around here for too long. </span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;">It was on the clifftop above, at RAF Portreath where some of the deadliest chemical weaponry was developed during the 1950s in a secret government installation known as Nancekuke Base. The facility closed in 1980, and many of the buildings and some equipment were buried on the site.<i><span>(3) </span></i> However, rumours quickly spread that the remaining chemicals were disposed of by pumping them into the sea through the vast network of old mine shafts on Nancekuke common. Today it is a military radar station, and during the mid-1980s many of the radar technicians witnessed a man dressed in a pilot’s uniform walk through a closed hangar door. It is believed that he is the restless spirit of a 2nd world war pilot who crashed nearby. <i><span>(4)</span></i></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="." style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="294" data-original-width="400" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9rUYkg07G78QQYoo95BdZIFKiUev3u5iVvURFOJ6XwUz5q4nEW_-YwcURDgcrGiW5ZpioxUbARFrPxKasrRLtiKrsg2HA2QVdwruV-dZitJGejFKbuv87Y9jXu1rw8dng1MnUmYOHrjP9/w400-h294/Wheal+coates.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i> Wheal Coates, on the coast between Porthtowan and St Agnes. <br />Ghost lights have been reported here. Watercolour by Paul Atlas-Saunders</i></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify; white-space: pre;"> </span></span></p><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: justify;"><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Strange eerie balls of light can sometimes be seen on the clifftops amongst the ruins of the mines. Mainly seeming to manifest during the Autumn, these ghost-lights have been described as materialising around a metre from the ground, and issue a strange ethereal glow, which lights up the clifftop for a few seconds, before suddenly vanishing. <i><span>(5)</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Another piece of folklore can be found at the other side of the village at Mile Hill. This tale concerns a fearsome fire-breathing dragon, who once made its lair up on the hilltop, between Chapel Hill and Nancekuke Common. The dragon regularly stalked the area seeking food of sheep and cattle, terrifying the community, and fiercely marking its territory. However, on one particular night on the eve of May and close to midnight, a ghostly black and white spotted dog who haunted the nearby lanes and coombes appeared. He was on the hunt for the dragon and soon found it eating one of the local farmer’s sheep. He squared up to the dragon and let out a long low growl. The dragon started to move in readiness to strike the dog, but the ghost dog sank its teeth into the dragons tail, ripping the tip clean off. The monster let out a fiery roar and the dog chased it towards the cliffs and the dragon was never seen again. The black and white ghost dog is still sometimes seen in the area. Appearing after dark, he stalks the narrow lanes around Porthtowan, and in particular on the old liminal festive nights of Halloween, Candlemas, May Eve, Midsummer, Midwinter and Lammas. <i><span>(6)</span></i></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Notes</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">
Popular Romances of the West of England by Robert Hunt</span></div><p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[2]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span>
Ibid<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoFootnoteText" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[3]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span>
https://api.parliament.uk/historic-hansard/commons/2000/jan/18/nancekuke-base<o:p></o:p></p>
<span class="MsoFootnoteReference" style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 107%;">[4]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"> Haunted Places of Cornwall by Sheila Bird, p 59</span><div style="font-family: inherit;"><p class="MsoFootnoteText"><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[5]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span>
Myths and Legends of Cornwall by Craig Weatherhill and Paul Devereux, p 61<o:p></o:p></p>
<span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><!--[if !supportFootnotes]--><span class="MsoFootnoteReference"><span style="line-height: 107%;">[6]</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Ghosts of Cornwall by Peter Underwood, pp 68,
69</span></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><span face=""Calibri",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 107%;"><i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span>This piece was first published as part of my </span><span>regular</span><span> Cornish Folklore column in <a href="https://www.meynmamvro.co.uk/" target="_blank">Meyn Mamvro,</a> Vol 2 No. 3</span></span></i></span></div><div><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif"><span><i>© Alex Langstone</i></span></span></span></div></span></div></span>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-40384723402909508472021-09-02T08:47:00.012+01:002022-09-28T10:51:21.035+01:00Some Cornish Harvest Traditions<p style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="."><img border="0" data-original-height="1136" data-original-width="852" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9QnVecMBaZkweKRLVxamhgCbcFPOHYg0jxOBV5lKgO7hhNj0P886Wf5mCgZtex09XWlKWWox-kPf_AAlkOoqaZI72Dqhj1L1h60YUhlEI9v2LvcL0FYvhwt1_Ps4CF1mKUyP6jr9-s4qk/w300-h400/41705186_10156587833141635_6073658285729251328_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href=".">Last sheaf is cut, Rillaton</a>.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> Cornish Harvest Traditions</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">Alex Langstone</p><p style="text-align: justify;">The old Cornish harvest festival of Guldize was, and still is celebrated across Cornwall with “Crying the Neck” ceremonies and communal feasts, music and dance. Most are held by the many local branches of the Federation of Old Cornwall Societies, and were revived in 1928, though evidence shows that this tradition is far older, dating back to the eighteenth century and maybe to the distant past. Each year a different farm would be chosen and after the grain harvest was complete, the ceremony would be held in the last field that was harvested, where a small amount of corn would be left standing, as it was believed that the spirit of the crop would reside in these last stalks. The last standing grain would then be cut with a scythe, tied together and was held aloft to the east, south and west with the cry “I have’n! I have’n! I have’n!”, to which the assembly responds “What ‘ave ee? What ‘ave ee? What ‘ave ee?” and the cutter replies “A Neck! A Neck! A Neck!” and then everybody shouts “Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The ceremony is concluded by prayers from the local clergy. The neck was then paraded to the local church or chapel, often accompanied by the local silver band, where a harvest service was taken. Then all would attend a harvest supper, where food was shared and stories told, harvest songs were sung and much dancing took place. <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="."><img border="0" data-original-height="978" data-original-width="1037" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB1p92K89nnxrINFBktFhEZ4UOCZf6GIh5nivoxk8TSwHTIMghYZCKJdwB7iyS-6IWsZqLVRQQpZDPlRKxAyaCMk127IJKqg0pke1bYlhOms41IjEOpjzF2YQ7QHwfub2K7GVP-KoxNDlm/w400-h378/Picture1.png" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href=".">Rillaton harvest roundel, dated to 1599. Illustration: Paul Atlas-Saunders</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">Around the edge of Bodmin Moor, this tradition appears to have a much older pedigree. On the ceiling of an old 16th century cottage at Rillaton is a plaster roundel depicting a sheaf of wheat all garlanded ready for the ceremony, along with farm tools and surrounded by a circle made from wheat ears. The motif was carved in situ in 1599, when the house was built and the building was originally the Dower House for the Manor of Rillaton, which was one of the original seventeen manors belonging to the Earldom of Cornwall. This unique piece of craftsmanship has been authenticated by English Heritage and is a real testament to the history and folklore of Crying the Neck in this area of Cornwall. The annual Rillaton ‘Cry’ is still held each year in the traditional manner, pretty much unchanged for centuries, as the old plaster roundel will attest. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="."><img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="624" height="383" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLF-JV2I8BkP4To6Br8SC6c_OKoN2_yRptEVm2mjew-fTHe8U7YMU5BmoMLyqID3ix3difMDGwXa32ECCppV1Cfopz4Y5Ld09oyoxDx5KNv8wyFmsp18blfUtXLYqvrdY7BARHOYJdSTgl/w280-h383/A+neck%252C+Rillaton.jpg" width="280" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href=".">The Rillaton Neck</a></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">The ‘Neck’ ceremony at nearby St Cleer once included placing a witch’s hat and broom on the fire as a charm to keep evil at bay. The Neck was often called The Craw or The Crow in some parts of mid and east Cornwall and the following ‘Craw sheaf ceremony’ was recorded at St Wenn in the 1930s by Stanley Opie – </p><p style="text-align: center;">The following ceremony is remembered at the putting in of the craw or crow sheaf, in the building of the rick. This would be well raised on poles (6 or 7 lengthways with cross poles) laid across the tops of the stone ‘keps and posses’ (caps and posts). The ‘Mow stead’, or rick, was built up sheaf by sheaf and when it came to the putting in of the top corner sheaf, the following verse would be proclaimed so that it could be heard almost all over the parish ‘The Crow sheaf is in, ‘tis time to begin, to drink strong beer, and we’ve got it ‘ere.’ while one of them would lift the beer jar.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">On the eastern side of Bodmin Moor at North Hill during the 1930s, Goldhys was celebrated with a broom dance to the tune of ‘So Early in the Morning’. This was recorded in Old Cornwall magazine in 1931, where the writer, E. Thompson says: </p><p style="text-align: center;">“…I must not forget to mention the dance over the Broomstick. This is most interesting especially if someone is present with a concertina. The Dance, I think it is to the tune of So Early in The Morning. It’s fine when you hear the heavy boots beating a tattoo on the stone floors, as the dancers first lift one leg then the other, to pass the broomstick from hand to hand, as if they were weaving. What a wonderful time too. As the dance proceeds, the musician plays faster and faster and the dancers have to dance faster. It is a marvel how these men, some big and well built, can jump so nimbly as they do in this dance.”</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="."><img border="0" data-original-height="1478" data-original-width="2048" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIr_pNC-thTbkjpaocXSZHe8KWpBLuiLWzFGxW4FgYTMJXZny4Ixh0oyeCw7tubieFqJeRr27e3BVfmMS-wqcE_M-ZvN8il1G1_aqKTx3CMwxaW12UVTqMALhCxQtoumEFJDQcsQl4peY8/w400-h289/015.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href=".">Harvest at Tredethy, North Cornwall</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>Originally published in my regular folklore column for <a href="https://www.meynmamvro.co.uk" target="_blank">Meyn Mamvro</a></i></div><div style="text-align: justify;">© Alex Langstone</div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-73106448540012864532021-08-24T11:22:00.021+01:002021-09-20T11:01:44.325+01:00The Museum of Magic & Folklore, Falmouth<p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkAqnq9OqcOOYMVltUP5zlY3FNsIsooeE0JdM7COsBU19NTRdkBs1aX4yuoTK4Pfyc6zZGpSWbPARtSjCLN7iH3-Eh-j7-0v9wRCyPplBlL7hoV1pp-Y28att5bbDtL1jFXvQ5fLYeNqf/s3305/sign.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="952" data-original-width="3305" height="145" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxkAqnq9OqcOOYMVltUP5zlY3FNsIsooeE0JdM7COsBU19NTRdkBs1aX4yuoTK4Pfyc6zZGpSWbPARtSjCLN7iH3-Eh-j7-0v9wRCyPplBlL7hoV1pp-Y28att5bbDtL1jFXvQ5fLYeNqf/w504-h145/sign.jpg" width="504" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">a review by Alex Langstone</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I recently took time to visit a brand new pop up exhibition. Titled the Museum of Magic and Folklore, this latest project by folklorist and antiquarian Steve Patterson can be found deep within the old vaults of Falmouth's Cornish Bank in Church Street. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As you enter this mysterious subterranean world, you are greeted with images and idols of Cornish folklore: Crying the Neck, Midsummer fires, Penglaz, Kasek Nos, Helston Furry and Padstow Obby Oss all vie for your attention, as they creep and sidle up to you. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1597" data-original-width="2048" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0-lhsHihS-SUOYlp-1AshrRv9Tt2LBvqWZh5NvZQHfMmqjeEyn_5k9QDno6xdRbYtSmTVAi_FCufun6rDsb2JyIrs0BKWZwkkwWcaOtdd9vyAh4Yahk9p8UcD6Cza63_8oiLH7htuNpII/w319-h249/KN.jpg" width="319" /><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">However, as you become accustomed to the rich and thick atmospheres of this folkloric world of wonder, an even more unusual item draws you inwards. For here sits Tim Shaw's fascinating and unexpected sculpture of <i>The Obby Oss in front of the Crucifixion. </i>Inspired by the artist's observation in 2011, which saw the Oss dancing before the high altar in St Petroc's parish church. This deeply inspired Shaw, and led to the creation of this strange and somewhat unusual bronze sculpture of the iconic Padstow Oss.</div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div style="text-align: justify;"></div></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote></blockquote><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQy5mlSEnCs-PVNKMXE87rlBLIogTko2SJmK4DhfiiaFzDKLTdbY5PyxfnjWDgG-kJtqzVmrSyycz7lTSOMNtj25uD61MhSfyMWd8FUIKwVYyAcqF_OhpxscV25sXhEQKrQOSUJLP1xit/s2048/Oss+n+Crhrist.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1425" data-original-width="2048" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVQy5mlSEnCs-PVNKMXE87rlBLIogTko2SJmK4DhfiiaFzDKLTdbY5PyxfnjWDgG-kJtqzVmrSyycz7lTSOMNtj25uD61MhSfyMWd8FUIKwVYyAcqF_OhpxscV25sXhEQKrQOSUJLP1xit/w338-h236/Oss+n+Crhrist.jpg" width="338" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As you enter the main vault, the lighting changes and a deliciously eerie ambient soundtrack entices you to enter into a world of sea monsters, witches and magic. Here is a world of mystery and enchantment, illustrated with artefacts from practitioners of witchery old and new, including Cecil Williamson's Witch's Cradle, many items from the art of the sea witch, a tableau of the sorcerers lair and many other artefacts of Cornish and west-country traditional practice.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxO3iTo8NnEcvxUykXjb3NZyV1iunhH5nQ5-fXJUjTHnNooyqKrCdQQy0nf6NICik62lv7boqSL_jKZ42-NjtgcG4iQ-DIlqX8oXCdH0PKLmM0CXFg2MpClgrgTE8enqxjMtKpWvouUvv_/s2048/sea+witch.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1368" data-original-width="2048" height="348" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxO3iTo8NnEcvxUykXjb3NZyV1iunhH5nQ5-fXJUjTHnNooyqKrCdQQy0nf6NICik62lv7boqSL_jKZ42-NjtgcG4iQ-DIlqX8oXCdH0PKLmM0CXFg2MpClgrgTE8enqxjMtKpWvouUvv_/w521-h348/sea+witch.jpg" width="521" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">As you leave the museum, you may notice a cabinet of pisky lore and magic. Piskies are the Cornish branch of the faery tribe of the Isle of Britain. Containing charms and idols of the Cornish little folk, including a four leaved clover, a hag stone charm and brass images of Joan the Wad and Jack O Lantern.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><img alt="" data-original-height="1308" data-original-width="2048" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWj1_2YZBpZBzTrJ0rrKedo9ySkjFfWbUoq9R5gZF7VAlNPBlFSgAFOgp4eQzULhJXC0s8hePBLUmwSH3Ky2QyeC5AmZnPcT2SjugO3LUKDu4CsBENfPxokbPbQNTsvWRSXlaZmCc_RiTJ/w499-h318/Pisky+lore.jpg" width="499" /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It is difficult not to compare this small and intimate collection with the larger and established Museum of Witchcraft & Magic in Boscastle. But this would be unfair and unjust. This collection, under the streets of the bustling maritime port of Falmouth, is an intimate glimpse into the world of folklore and it feels like it may have grown from the sea and the soil that surrounds it's underground lair.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">These vaults below the old Cornish Bank lie close to the waterfront, and contain a mysterious tunnel. What a perfect space to house these esoteric and folkloric items of magic and sorcery. This collection is an interesting glimpse into the world of enchantment, and one I would highly recommend.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The pop up exhibition runs until 8th September, please check Steve's website for all the details here:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><a href="https://www.stevepattersonantiquarian.com/">www.stevepattersonantiquarian.com</a> or click the images below</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://www.stevepattersonantiquarian.com/museum.html" style="clear: left; float: left; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="1100" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1qNauSSaeqYxF1ZvctFjQ0RkmVlyJSIfuDU_5uMSwEgNISdJjZLAnicAp9oFNubOzvwSxHz8fz0hDa0zZVnKOiD4G5F3uHCo3-TD9i38WUIkdOWFLJ4xE1HJbG6WRLlairyUTaBBydp0b/w281-h154/witchcraft-museum-sign-transparent-1.jpg" width="281" /></a><a href="https://www.stevepattersonantiquarian.com/museum.html" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;" target="_blank"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1359" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaKYZi9i-yQX_qZn9a86lclpUPKnKcHkwZPjDnISvNiqC-9VUHDQejc3edtVSDiny0EjIRB_5sAs_0ZOqpnV3zkTKAjbwyqU3yKikxXqN71tlC17lPMFUu-aTK3ysmX7AVtgkLu-4ReIh/w192-h290/witch+sign.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>For more information about the curator of this museum, Steve Patterson, see the <a href="http://artcornwall.org/interviews/Steve_Patterson/Steve_Patterson_Museum_Of_Magic.htm" target="_blank">ArtCornwall interview here</a> by Rupert White<div><br /></div><div>© Alex Langstone</div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-91804023558139213412021-07-22T14:50:00.004+01:002021-09-20T11:02:39.803+01:00The Black Dog of Tregrehan<p> <b><span style="font-size: large;">An old tale, re-imagined by Alex Langstone.</span></b></p><div><br /></div><div>Tregrehan Mills, 1779.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">It was a clear moonlit night in the narrow lanes at Tregrehan Mills, and a clandestine group of men were out poaching. Close to midnight they had gathered at an isolated trackway on the edge of the hamlet, not far from the boundary of the large estate owned by Lord Carlyon. Most of the men had cut across the fields from St Blazey, Boscoppa and Par and now gathered in the shadows of the ancient hedge. The old lane was brightly lit by the moon, and all was quiet.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span> </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">One of the lads, a mere boy, was told to keep guard by the granite hedge, whilst the older men quickly dispersed in the neighbouring fields, looking for deer tracks under the soft silver light of the full moon. Sam was on the lookout for any intruders, and he had been instructed to raise the alarm if any strangers appeared in the vicinity. Though nervous, he was a seasoned lookout, and had been on many night-time errands before, be they poaching at Tregrehan or smuggling at Par. If it wasn’t for these activities, Sam knew they would probably be starving, so it was all part of his regular routine.</div><div><br /></div><div><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
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He listened again, but the clattering sound had ceased. An owl hooted from the tree tops and another responded, their eerie avian conversation seemed to hang on the night air, in this ancient Cornish lane.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sam’s senses suddenly heightened, as again he heard the clatter of a horse approaching. This time he raised the alarm, as they could ill afford to be caught trespassing, let alone poaching. As his companions drew close to the shadows of the hedge, the sound grew louder., and the noisy clatter of hooves became much more distinct. They were all intrigued to see who was riding out so noisily on this fine moonlit night. However, a dire feeling of dread came over them all, as a very strange apparition manifested before them. Instead of a horse, there appeared a huge furry black beast, which looked like a large dog or small bear. <span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify;">As the creature passed by the group, they all witnessed the wild monster with his demonic fiery eyes and large teeth, which struck terror into their hearts. What was this uncanny beast? Furthermore, the strange creature walked straight through a wooden gate, without any obstruction, as if it were a ghostly apparition or maybe a demon straight from hell.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></div><div></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Beyond the sturdy wooden gate, the strange black dog trotted off into the fields beyond. The men watched its monstrous spectral illuminated form for several minutes, and they continued to hear the strange nightmarish clattering of the ghost dog’s hoof-like paws, which gradually seemed to fade into the disturbing shadows of the trees on the far side of the pasture. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">The poachers decided to call it a night, and as they dispersed into smaller groups to head for their homes, the conversation was of confusion and fear, as they tried to understand what they had all witnessed in the lush fields and ancient woodlands of Tregrehan Mills on that fateful and haunted moonlit night.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnQsCQ5KnD2Vbbg-QgEJeZJBBcpsG2xqO7XewDXqtfh18ALSoEy9j5miwar4i5QP6VzoG_5qsBEVQ9LPPp-IGAIAL2RncN7w2LgYNrPceVP1bNUhf_yXTlpYLJf6g5wQ9E9IuM_iABgUP/s1600/hound.jpg"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAnQsCQ5KnD2Vbbg-QgEJeZJBBcpsG2xqO7XewDXqtfh18ALSoEy9j5miwar4i5QP6VzoG_5qsBEVQ9LPPp-IGAIAL2RncN7w2LgYNrPceVP1bNUhf_yXTlpYLJf6g5wQ9E9IuM_iABgUP/s640/hound.jpg" width="472" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;">Artwork copyright Paul Atlas-Saunders<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://cornishfolkloretales.blogspot.com/2014/04/the-hound-of-st-austell.html">Please see here for source material</a><br /><br />This piece was first published in <a href="http://www.lulu.com/gb/en/shop/alex-langstone/lien-gwerin-2/paperback/product-23621913.html">Lien Gwerin no. 2</a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">© Alex Langstone</div></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-364091056647212681" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: #51594b; color: white; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15.4px; font-weight: 700; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 742px;"><div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div></div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-61223406987359491222021-07-10T13:42:00.004+01:002021-07-10T14:05:33.315+01:00 St Morwenna and Reverend Hawker<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo96sd0FOrIRsZ7WvZ65XHOtaITcQN1OGlv5TvVygNUEucucVWibvlmsJySQKmzRPDdEeGbg5RFvl89pv4AV_Uis4T3hDMTAVS6TmGct-vMGSHke6ifymzINy09zkTvINikGssPgVLDMqr/s2584/07+01+14+010.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1217" data-original-width="2584" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo96sd0FOrIRsZ7WvZ65XHOtaITcQN1OGlv5TvVygNUEucucVWibvlmsJySQKmzRPDdEeGbg5RFvl89pv4AV_Uis4T3hDMTAVS6TmGct-vMGSHke6ifymzINy09zkTvINikGssPgVLDMqr/w468-h221/07+01+14+010.JPG" width="468" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"...fair as the sea...."</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">St Morwenna and Reverend Hawker</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">Alex Langstone</p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br /></div></div><span style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span>July 8th is the feast of Morwenna, patron saint of the most northerly parish in Cornwall. Morwenstow </span><span> lies six miles north of Bude and close to the source of the River Tamar. The story of Morwenna is, like so many of the Celtic saints, one of pilgrimage and the sacredness of place. Morwenna was born during the early part of the 6th century in South Wales. She is listed as one of the many children of Brychan, which would mean that she came from Brecon. </span></div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMTq9qlPJ-YJVgtXtIJadgLpC8_xbg2myBv4S7wKeadWq0WuP9x6yMu6oF65FtudBTChyphenhyphenQoNaLKlwJy_yT9POpviFQMobsMwwuim2Jnj3vXs-skT-ZAfvYNaFDw_XCV0C0VnoR427mzpH/s2000/Well.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="2000" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqMTq9qlPJ-YJVgtXtIJadgLpC8_xbg2myBv4S7wKeadWq0WuP9x6yMu6oF65FtudBTChyphenhyphenQoNaLKlwJy_yT9POpviFQMobsMwwuim2Jnj3vXs-skT-ZAfvYNaFDw_XCV0C0VnoR427mzpH/w304-h171/Well.png" width="304" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Holy well of St Morwenna</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Her name is thought to be cognate with Welsh morwyn, meaning “maiden”, and poetically as “fair as the sea”. Her legend states that she trained in Ireland before coming to North Cornwall where she built her cell on the cliff top. The story goes that Morwenna carried all the building stones needed to build her hermitage from the beach far below. One day she dropped one large stone on her way back up the cliff path. Where the stone fell a miraculous spring gushed forth. The holy well of Morwenna can still be seen half way up the cliff, perched precariously overlooking the wild and stormy ocean. Morwenna is said to have died here, and her body was buried close to where the Norman church now stands. No story of Morwenstow is complete, however, without the mention of folklorist, antiquarian, poet and eccentric, the Reverend Robert Stephen Hawker, composer of the Cornish anthem, “Song of the Western Men” and remembered for re-introducing the harvest festival into the church calendar in October 1843, where bread was made from the last wheat harvest for the communion, and food was given to the poor.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Hawker has become part of the folklore of Morwenstow, and indeed he completely championed St Morwenna as patron of his parish. Sabine Baring Gould once called to question the reality of the story of Morwenna, and Hawker replied:</p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>“What! Morwenna not lie in the holy place at Morwenstow! Of that you will never persuade me, -- no, never. I know that she lies there. I have seen her, and she has told me as much; and at her feet ere long I hope to lay my old bones.” </i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY77ukuc8W4j7U5cTNbKZRk2Cz03erV5XwR_zXfbe8AGyqbiAct-VhBuKDH_10TSo42Bi_5SnLImW0CUxb3cN271LK94VPl81eeeZxwRdhnSw4TqXGZWe-Ri20B_0ToHG8q3RL6PNjLi6d/s1363/Morwenstow+church.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1363" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY77ukuc8W4j7U5cTNbKZRk2Cz03erV5XwR_zXfbe8AGyqbiAct-VhBuKDH_10TSo42Bi_5SnLImW0CUxb3cN271LK94VPl81eeeZxwRdhnSw4TqXGZWe-Ri20B_0ToHG8q3RL6PNjLi6d/s320/Morwenstow+church.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">St Morwenna's church, Morwenstow</span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">Hawker arrived in Morwenstow in 1834 and spent the rest of his life in the parish. He earned a compassionate but eccentric reputation and he regularly attended ship wrecks at the nearby coast, where he helped the unfortunate sailors and buried the dead in the churchyard. The figurehead of the ship Caledonia, which foundered in September 1842, marks the grave in Morwenstow churchyard of five of the nine-man crew. There are two landmarks that are particularly associated with Hawker. He built a small hut on the cliff top from driftwood and wood from the wrecks of the Phoenix in January 1843 and the Alonzo in October of the same year. Here, in his look-out retreat, he would smoke opium, write poetry and entertain guests. He also built the beautiful and unusual vicarage behind the church with chimneys modelled on the towers of the churches in his life: Tamerton, where he had been curate; Morwenstow and Welcombe; plus, that of Magdalen College, Oxford. The old kitchen chimney is a replica of Hawker’s mother’s tomb. He often conducted his church services in an unorthodox way, walking among the parishioners, muttering the liturgy and allowing his many pet cats entry to the church to attend services, though he excommunicated one of them for catching a mouse on a Sunday. He had a strong sense of the supernatural, and frequently referred to his belief in demons, many of whom reputedly haunted Hawker. One famous account records a demon, who leapt out of the sea at Marsland Mouth, at twilight during a wild storm. Hawker put his horse to a wild gallop to escape from his demonic pursuer. Interestingly the stream that drains across this remote beach, called Marsland Water marks the far northern Cornish border and a small wooden sign stands proudly by the stream marking the Duchy’s most northerly point. Another occasion at Marsland Mill, Hawker’s path was crossed by a small brown demon who appeared from under the gorse. Hawker pursued the demon, but it quickly slipped out of sight and into the river. And he described the event as “a nameless and indescribable sensation”. </div><p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1690" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOK0yre3ZZdCubXAb4Mr65qwNw7kOf78SQlRjYaEXwdXAVc576G6ycGA2t6JnpCSWmIQooidwSQLUXnlbaOSCgsh183yIqASYzxc4Ou1KonRQXzLXXcZPpmUSFhUfg6hSuRRtVtUcQX6EO/s320/mor+vicarage.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Rev. Hawker's vicarage</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: justify;">He also used to communicate with St Morwenna, and regularly saw her inside the church, around the graveyard and on the cliff-top at Morwenstow. Hawker also had a vision of an angel in the church, by the rood screen door, whilst conducting a baptism. After some delay, Hawker announced that the angel had communicated that he was now the guardian angel of the child he had just baptised. </p><p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEI433ahwamA1gxgA-QmBZehKjLlmq4gdPbXKAqdZTTZjLlMnYJgu8jtqHQwLYwutz2195NDL125pEXMLrkWulRRnddewijyDQbkG8GnfZiAh1YPPJcmJRritqvhYNLacH-K1F3G2k7-CD/s2048/hut.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1152" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEI433ahwamA1gxgA-QmBZehKjLlmq4gdPbXKAqdZTTZjLlMnYJgu8jtqHQwLYwutz2195NDL125pEXMLrkWulRRnddewijyDQbkG8GnfZiAh1YPPJcmJRritqvhYNLacH-K1F3G2k7-CD/s320/hut.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Hawker's hut on the cliffs at Morwenstow</span></td></tr></tbody></table> <p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">In his younger days, Hawker is said to have dressed as a mermaid and sat on the rocks at Bude, he continued this practice until a local man threatened to go out and shoot the mermaid dead.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">With all these tales in mind, it is easy to walk the ancient pathways around Morwenstow church and still feel the mighty presence of the Reverend Robert Stephen Hawker, and I for one am glad, as he was an eccentric visionary and a man of the people he served, who was always willing to help the poor and needy of the parish and beyond.</p><p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="654" data-original-width="442" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIs3h5Nj2sM43DM7AEewReJwojRDCra38avR9-tB5Xk9OLXOzKP0LPj4WiKSOZdcfj3QMeOfm3pN1nPYMbye96ada16ebYnB_e2ysJM1XouG16mf2xo6MUz_sxFoul9eA9Pb2BuNg1p55G/w270-h400/image_2021-07-07_162137.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="270" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> Reverend Robert Stephen Hawker</span></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Article first published in Meyn Mamvro no. 96, Summer/Autumn 2018, as part of my regular Cornish Folklore column</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i>© Alex Langstone</i></div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-67429647617435436992021-07-07T11:18:00.005+01:002021-07-10T14:06:05.817+01:00Water Lore from Bodmin Moor<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dw0zxNRN9Dap-s8iw4YMXXs_CWW-zBIQYWWTZmMNUNSImUZNPiqlSCtE54Q6mPg0N3Y1ubl1gqhvSrb6va1wvzuGRXureLuQ0KNBbH9P4-PQLhWwT2h80NPDflPhShdSYV42SmRhXc3A/w400-h300/Doz.jpg" width="400" /></div><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> <span style="font-size: x-large; text-align: center;">Water Lore from Bodmin Moor</span></div><p style="text-align: center;">Alex Langstone</p><p>The wild and remote sheet of water that lies at the centre of the rugged granite heights of Bodmin Moor is an enchantingly eerie place. The only natural lake on the moor, its origins can be traced to glacial activity. However, as with many watery places in spectacular landscapes, Dozmary Pool has gathered some odd tales and fanciful folklore to its lonely shores.</p><p>The ghostly wild hunt is said to sometimes gather on the reedy shores of the lake, and Dozmary’s version of this iconic and often repeated piece of folklore goes like this.</p><p>The epic lore of the wild hunt is linked to one of the most notorious characters of Cornish folklore – Jan Tregeagle. In this tale, Tregeagle had witnessed a loan of a huge sum of money from one man to another, shortly before his death. When the lender came to collect payment, the debtor denied all knowledge of the agreement, and the case was taken to court in Bodmin. Tregeagle had died by this time, and as he was the only witness, the moneylender cried out </p><p>“If Tregeagle ever saw it, I wish to God he would come and declare it!” </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9V3vpHWjOHsgt311C-qbg0Qeh950MPpkPCt17FlmZs1qI6VUhC_msXJigqXdeSFTkBFyAOLjc098BHa3ZCQDFlVcwnmvj8nk6tdzX9ILiNshTKhkwNBMXD9B9lYEbaRhr7utezJ4syhQa/s678/Dosmary+Pool+wild+hunt.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="678" data-original-width="591" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9V3vpHWjOHsgt311C-qbg0Qeh950MPpkPCt17FlmZs1qI6VUhC_msXJigqXdeSFTkBFyAOLjc098BHa3ZCQDFlVcwnmvj8nk6tdzX9ILiNshTKhkwNBMXD9B9lYEbaRhr7utezJ4syhQa/w210-h240/Dosmary+Pool+wild+hunt.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>In a flash of lightning Tregeagle’s ghost appeared and said </p><p>“It will not be such an easy task to get rid of me as it has been to call me!” </p><p>The debtor soon realised that his life was being haunted by Tregeagle’s evil spirit, so he called in a ghost-laying priest to banish him, and eventually the priest managed to bind Tregeagle to the task of emptying Dozmary Pool with a leaky limpet shell. In legend, Dozmary Pool was regarded as bottomless, and has been haunted by Tregeagle ever since, as he tries to empty the pool with a leaky limpet shell, with a pack of demon hounds watching over him. When storms are brewing over the moor, it is said that Tregeagle and his pack of hounds fly across Bodmin Moor, imitating the ancient spectacle of the wild hunt. </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="2" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="548" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3_AnA8kx-gJ7wZeCDImPGoWrFYuISDisUcj1emO-54yzdfvCPgy6-gCcwV9VqDXFxnOmlnU9BO1NDmCHvgpHqPN4E-F2Wa2Ba2yuHrld5uH2j3aTT_J0GpIhTYS2hign_7oIiO_rm8T1/w230-h224/Doz+mermaid.png" width="230" /></a></div>Aside from the Tregeagle legend, the pool has other mysterious tales to tell. In the murky depths of the pool a powerful vortex is rumoured to exist, like an underground waterfall. This strange watery realm is reputed to be presided over by the Old Storm Woman, a ghostly moor-land mermaid figure who dwells in the cool peaty waters below the still surface of the lake. It is she who creates the winds which rip across the moor from the centre of the lake, as she gathers the power of the aqueous vortex; she blows the winds across eastern Cornwall from the dramatic cliffs of the north coast, across the granite tors to the lush river valleys in the south. Maybe the strange and seemingly out-of-place ancient carving of a mermaid, which resides in the parish church at nearby Linkinhorne, is an old half-forgotten reminder of her story? <p></p><p>The most famous legend associated with Dozmary Pool is that of Sir Bedevere casting Excalibur into the lake, where the Lady of the Lake receives Arthur’s sword for safe keeping. Maybe the Storm Woman Mermaid and the Lady of the Lake are one and the same? The pool is also the legendary source of the Fowey River, though the actual source is at Fenton Fowi on the slopes of Brown Willy a few miles to the north, and a moorland folk-tale suggests that if anything is sucked into the vortex of Dozmary, it will resurface in Fowey Harbour.</p><p>The River Fowey, from its folkloric source at Dozmary Pool, wends its way southwards, across boggy mires and through deep moorland ravines until reaching the southern coast at the ancient sea port of old Fowey Town. The most famous ravine associated with the river is at Golitha Falls, where the river tumbles noisily and sometimes ferociously, away from the moorland heights to the lower levels, where the quiet water meadows gradually give way to the salty creeks and the broad deep estuary, once the scene for nefarious pirate activities of the Fowey Gallants.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo01dpR5i4SZkgLxUIMrQRSo98A-bPYm1rADlHAYok0LVfXaJJWXB9BkcvZWUX5U0D0CRtvaIpJFhkxoGCqmOGf5LHV0nMMWzqV9w-VFTPiZNz0vnYVgTOtDFmFyn2ZQayfl8_heI_UP7z/w400-h300/image_2021-07-07_110511.png" width="400" /></a></p><p>The gorge at Golitha offers fantastic walks by the river. The woodland here is mainly of Beech, and gives us a clue to the rivers name and meaning. Fowey, from the Cornish Fowi meaning the ‘beech tree river’. The waterfall and surrounding woods are reputedly haunted by King Doniert (Donyarth) who died in 875 AD and was the last Cornish king. He is said to have drowned in the lower falls. His stone memorial can be viewed nearby at St Cleer. </p><p>The ghostly figure of a white lady has been seen on the road running through the Draynes Valley, close to Golitha. Most often seen by motorists travelling after dark, she looms up out of a mist in the middle of the road, and it is rumoured that she appears to warn drivers of the dangers of driving on this road at night. ‘White ladies’ are renowned folktale manifestations at waterfalls, and it is possible that this particular ‘white lady’ may be connected to the nearby falls. The woods and waterfall are also haunted by the ghostly tapping of copper miners, who are often heard working the lodes of the historic Wheal Victoria Copper Mine, and strange whispers, cries and moans have been heard close to the falls after dark, maybe it’s the secretive chatter of the Pobel Vean, the little people or piskies, who are said to dwell within the hidden parts of the landscape; in the rock crevices, holy wells, caves, remote valleys, rugged hilltops and the old mines of the moor and coast.</p><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Originally published in <a href="https://www.meynmamvro.co.uk" target="_blank">Meyn Mamvro</a> no 94, Autumn/Winter 2017, as part of my regular folklore column.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: #51594b; color: #cccccc; color: #cccccc; font-family: "; font-size: 12px; font-size: 12px; text-align: center;">© Alex Langstone</span></div>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-78486946222667791422021-06-23T10:13:00.002+01:002021-06-23T10:14:58.635+01:00The Enquiring Eye #5 and a Cornish Halloween<p>You can now read all about my investigation <i>All Hallows and Allantide: A glimpse into the customs and folklore of a Cornish Halloween </i>n in The Enquiring Eye no. 5.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGiYz9OA-fRcDPlLD_PRJW9JoFILfB6zZrktWSDqu8q1AC4eUNfzU5WCvZB1VV5E_5jbwnEOCZlu1c2L5Edqjp6Zxj4Ik82ETs2UuqTrZ9q2VRmlUxYUm8sR5LvcYohHIrGv7DA3TvcXuA/s1920/EE5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="1440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGiYz9OA-fRcDPlLD_PRJW9JoFILfB6zZrktWSDqu8q1AC4eUNfzU5WCvZB1VV5E_5jbwnEOCZlu1c2L5Edqjp6Zxj4Ik82ETs2UuqTrZ9q2VRmlUxYUm8sR5LvcYohHIrGv7DA3TvcXuA/w300-h400/EE5.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p>Available from the Museum of Witchcraft & Magic's <a href="https://museumofwitchcraftandmagic.co.uk/shop/the-enquiring-eye-issue-5/">online shop </a></p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6734065022735184943.post-78279068493904761322021-05-14T19:00:00.007+01:002021-05-16T21:53:08.770+01:00Cornish folklore and myth - exploring some folkloric landscapes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhinkIZC6yVVL2_lP31xrCFXmm_E31KmQw85_jHldeRRGzerzVm9Y5qniEjaCicxNUKLRb3ldia53WX-G7fHhvY4RmnEjdaWDdu5E_kUJ8Q6qe2GyD8xd5n7ZKzuyOq-yZlcDk20iagc-eJ/s800/https___cdn.evbuc.com_images_124672101_173200979_1_original.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="800" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhinkIZC6yVVL2_lP31xrCFXmm_E31KmQw85_jHldeRRGzerzVm9Y5qniEjaCicxNUKLRb3ldia53WX-G7fHhvY4RmnEjdaWDdu5E_kUJ8Q6qe2GyD8xd5n7ZKzuyOq-yZlcDk20iagc-eJ/w400-h200/https___cdn.evbuc.com_images_124672101_173200979_1_original.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>I am very much looking forward to presenting a Zoom talk at the beginning of July, featuring some of the locations featured in my Cornish folklore book 'From Granite to Sea'</p><p>Please see relevant links below and see you there!</p><p>Facebook: <a href="https://www.facebook.com/events/331203091539753/?ref=newsfeed" style="font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;">https://www.facebook.com/events/331203091539753/?ref=newsfeed</a></p><p>Tickets <a href="https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/cornish-folklore-and-mylth-with-alex-langstone-on-zoom-tickets-139158307243?aff=efbeventtix&fbclid=IwAR0svto0bquNy3YOrOKDDPyP0TsHeSm0ViemuX7mzs05N9sQKJEh76gt0PI" target="_blank">here</a></p><p><span face="Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="color: white;">The event is organised by The Viktor Wynd Museum & The Last Tuesday Society. The Last Tuesday Society is a 'pataphysical organisation founded by William James at Harvard in the 1870s, currently headquartered at The Viktor Wynd Museum of Curiosities, Fine Art & UnNatural History in London. For the last twenty years they have put on Lectures, Balls, Workshops, Masterclasses, Seances, Expeditions to Papua New Guinea & West Africa, all from their East London Museum and it's infamous cocktail bar.</span></p>Alex Langstonehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03233247785468335422noreply@blogger.com0