Thirty Years On – Sadness & Celebration (part one)

Posted on April 14, 2024 by johnshortlandwriter

How time flies by. I know that’s a bit of a cliché to open with but, even so, it hardly seems possible that thirty years could have passed since that early spring day in 1994 when I locked the door of Shortlands clothing and footwear store for the very last time, and wondering where my career would go to next. I was in my early forties and knew that I would have to do something to earn my keep and pay the mortgage but what? It was a time of great sadness, not just for me and my family but also for our loyal staff some of whom had been with us for many years. Thirty years on it seems time to write the shop’s story to celebrate it having been at the centre of community life for the best part of a hundred years.

The shop that was to become Shortlands began with my great-grandfather, William Bradby Langston, who had already established shops in Marlow High Street and in nearby Lane End. He was quite entrepreneurial, something he and his brothers inherited from their mother. Poor Sophia, widowed in 1863 at the age of 34 with five children under the age of 13 and a baby due at any time needed to provide for herself and her family. She set up a shop in her front living room which later expanded to become Langstons Department Store in Reading, Berkshire. As well as those already mentioned, she and her sons between them also had shops in Boscombe (Hampshire) and Ilford (Essex). Unsurprisingly, she is remembered as being rather a force to be reckoned with – you can read her life story, Rebel in the Family, by clicking here.

*The first generations of retailers*
*l to r: My great-great grandmother Sophia Langston (nee Bradby); my great-grandfather William Bradby Langston; my grandfather Arthur Shortland*

William opened his ‘Boot and Shoe Warehouse’ in Marlow in 1884 at the age of 22. Seven years later he opened another, opposite the first, specialising in boating and tennis shoes as well as other sporting footwear. When a newly built parade of shops became available in Bourne End in 1899 he established what was to become Shortlands. At first the shop was tiny but by 1904 he had expanded to sell not just shoes but also mens and boys clothing. Four years later William’s daughter, Nellie, married Arthur Shortland who had come to Marlow to work for William a few years earlier. The newly married couple came to Bourne End and by 1915 Arthur was listed as the owner in Kelly’s Directory.

*Langstons – the Bourne End branch c1910*

The shop continued to prosper and during the 1920s the adjoining shop was purchased and ladies clothing and footwear as well as carpets, haberdashery, dress fabrics and knitting wools, soft furnishings, household linens and luggage were added to create Bourne End’s own department store. The 1920s photo below shows my grandfather Arthur using the steam (clothes) press although it was a (much hated!) task given to my father Hedley as soon as he returned from school.

*Langstons, now expanded and with my grandfather’s name on the fascia 1920s*

*My grandfather, Arthur Shortland using the steam press*,*1920s*

With the outset of WW2 my father joined the army and it was left to the older generation, including my great-aunt Edith Shortland, to run the business. Both the Langstons and the Shortlands were deeply religious and scrupulous in the way they behaved towards others. My mother would tell the story of how when some silk stockings arrived (which were rationed and in short supply) she rather assumed that she would have a pair. She was told quite firmly that her name would go on the bottom of the list like anyone else – she never did get her stockings. Aunt Edie was quite diminutive but with a voice that belied her stature. One day she spotted a lady conceal some goods inside her coat. “Jesus saw you do that” came a thundering voice from nowhere; the woman screamed, dropped the goods and her shopping and was last seen running down the street fearing the wrath of God was upon her! After the war, my father returned to the business along with his brother Jack, later to be joined by their cousin Maurice Phipps.

During the 1960s the shop expanded again. The garden and old shoe repair workshops at the rear of the property were built over and a new shopfront installed. Made of aluminium, it was considerably ahead of its time and was featured in several design magazines both here and on the Continent. By the late 1970s both my father and my uncle Jack had died and soon after the shop was due for another major refit. The interior, as well as the fascia, was modernised and the displays became more open and accessible to customers. Until that time stock was kept hidden away in drawers and boxes – if you wanted to buy something it was necessary to ask and an assistant would show what was available. Personal service, nowadays a rarity, was the norm back then. How times have changed! To make space for the improved selection of clothing, all of the other departments closed and the shop concentrated on mens and womens fashions and footwear for all the family. The toiletries and gift department was retained; the soaps and potpourri helping to make the shop always smell rather nice!

*The ‘new and modern’ shopfront in 1969 featured in design magazines* *of the time* – *by the 1990s it was looking tired and old-fashioned*

*By the 1990s the displays were brighter and (to use 2020s speak) more ‘on trend’*

I suppose it was because the shop was ‘always there’ that we have no photographs of the shop interior through the decades which is rather sad. Fortunately, I did take a few in the early 1990s and these will probably trigger some memories for local people. The 1990s brought new challenges for the business with recession and changing shopping habits sounding the death knell for businesses like ours. I had joined the firm in 1971 and my business partner, John Pheby had begun even earlier, as a lad, working for the family. It was a hard but inevitable decision that we decided to close and were fortunate to find a buyer almost immediately. They converted the property to three shops and the accommodation and stockrooms above to flats. Since that time Bourne End has changed quite considerably and most of the old shop names (and several of the buildings too) have disappeared. I believe that there must be photos of the interior held by local people somewhere – it would be wonderful to see them. I seem to recall Jean Peasley taking photos during our last few days…

*a small section of the* *Ladies Fashions Department* *1990*

So, what happened to our employees? In the early days of my tenure there was Ivy Taplin (Akela to us cubs of the late 50s!), Yvonne Ludgate, June Charlton (later to become June Billinghurst), Cissy Hyde, Mrs Faulkner, Liz Hill and Diana Spokes. Later, Pauline Harvey, Marjorie Kane, Wendy Manley, David and Marian Bratter, Diane Douneen, Kath Bowdrey, Iris Halstead and Cissy Vickers. I’m afraid I can’t remember the names of them all but some of those listed will be familiar to Bourne End locals – please don’t be offended if I have left you out, you were all valued! The younger generation I purposely have not named but they aren’t forgotten either – I still keep in touch with several of them thanks to social media. It was thanks to a succession of great staff through the years that the business was so successful. It seems appropriate to thank our loyal customers too – I can still picture many of them and the frequent kind comments that I still receive on social media shows that they haven’t forgotten Shortlands either which, after all this time, is rather humbling as well as very special.

And what have I been doing the past thirty years? Retailing had been a passion for my family for generations but I decided to follow another of the Shortland passions and forge a new and very different career – you’ll have to wait a short while for part two to find out what but the photo below may give a clue!

A Yorkshire Tradition

Posted on March 23, 2024 by johnshortlandwriter

I have just returned home from a 48-hour trip up north to Yorkshire. I felt a bit reckless travelling so far, only to discover that ‘up north’ isn’t as far away as we southerners always believe. We may have got that wrong but the famed warm Yorkshire welcome is as true as ever. The reason for my visit was to watch the oldest horse race in the English sporting calendar.

Taking place on the third Thursday in March (when the weather can be very variable), tradition says that if for any reason it is cancelled it will never be run again. To ensure its continuity during Covid restrictions one horse took part; in the harsh winter of 1947 again one horse took part, its jockey sometimes having to dismount to clear a path through the snowdrifts. This year, although the weather has been exceptionally wet, the race took place with nineteen entries and a large supporting crowd. It was the 505^th race for It has been run since 1519.

*Crowds line the unconventional racecourse*

Like all traditions the race has its quirks. Perhaps the strangest being that the race begins at the finish post. From there the competitors walk the 4+ miles to the starting point where they turn around and go hell-for-leather back to the finish. Although the winner receives a trophy and the cache of being first, it is coming second that is the most contested place for the runner-up receives all the prize money – now that is quirky! As with ‘normal’ races, placing bets on favoured horses or jockeys adds to the day’s excitement.

We had travelled to the race to watch our good friend, Carole Johnston, compete. Not only had Carole never raced before she was also not riding a racehorse but a lovely Irish cob that had until recently belonged to her friend, Kate Jeffery. Kate had loaned the horse to Carole when she found that she had been diagnosed with cancer. Sadly, Kate’s treatment was not successful and Carole decided to ride her horse, Lorna, at the Derby to raise funds for the local St Leonard’s Hospice in Kate’s memory.

*Carole Johnston and Lorna – ready for the off*

As word spread of Carole’s intention and bravery – for she suffers from back and balance issues – so the fund-raising gathered pace. Newspaper interviews and television appearances followed and, on the day, both were present to speak to her before and after the race. As if training for the race and competing wasn’t enough, Carole who is an excellent baker, opened the home she shares with her partner Ollie Heywood to all for much-needed warming soup, cake and pudding. More than seventy people joined them after the race and generously adding more to the funds already raised.

*Television and the press have been following Carole’s progress*

*Carole and Lorna being cheered on to the Finish post*

Carole always said that taking part in the race was all about Kate and her horse, Lorna. The course is difficult for it takes place not on a conventional racecourse but along muddy and often rutted lanes, tracks and field margins. Carole’s intention was solely to reach the finish line with both her and Lorna in one piece. As it happened, she did manage this, and in some style, as can be seen from the photos, both thoroughly enjoyed themselves. To date, many thousands of pounds has been raised for the hospice in Kate’s memory but more is always welcome. If you are able to add to the funds and help to take it over £10,000, Carole, the hospice and Kate’s husband, Chris will be more than grateful. Click on the link here to donate.

Viewing Planet Earth

Posted on February 22, 2024 by johnshortlandwriter

I think it would be fair to say that the chances of my viewing Earth from the Moon is so improbable that I have never even considered it. That changed when, with an hour to spare en route elsewhere, I decided to explore the Abbey Church of Tewkesbury, little knowing that I would leave having had an out-of-space experience.

The name Tewkesbury Abbey, as it is usually called, is really a misnomer for the church has been the Parish Church of the Gloucestershire town of Tewkesbury for centuries. When, in 1087, Robert Fitzhamon was gifted Tewkesbury by his cousin William the Conqueror, there had already been a monastery on the site for four hundred years. However, in 1102 the building of the present church commenced, its stone coming from Caen in Normandy, France and floated up the River Severn which passes just yards from the door. For the next four hundred years, as part of the Benedictine monastery, it really was Tewkesbury Abbey.

Ancient buildings line the streets that lead to Tewkesbury Abbey

I’ve driven through Tewkesbury dozens of times. It’s an interesting town with some beautiful old buildings and I’d always intended to stop and explore. With limited time, the town would have to wait for another day. I entered the Abbey church expecting to be overawed by it for it for several reasons: it is now almost a thousand years old, it is one of the finest Norman buildings in England, it has the largest Romanesque cross-tower in Europe and contains more medieval monuments than any other church apart from Westminster Abbey in London. I hadn’t however expected to be be confronted, upon entering, by a large, hanging globe – our Planet Earth.

Rotating slowly, the seven metre diameter Earth sculpture is as seen from the Moon. As Luke Jerram, who created this Gaia exhibit states, “man has been gazing at the moon for Millenia but it was only in 1972, with the Apollo 17 mission, that man was able to see our planet floating through space – a sight that changed our perception of Earth forever.” When standing 211 metres away from the globe, viewers see the Earth to scale, exactly as it was viewed from the Moon.

The Abbey, of course, has many wonders of its own to be viewed. For me, an unexpected delight was the chantry chapel built as a memorial to Isabella, Countess of Warwick and her two husbands, Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Worcester and, later, (another) Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick. Erected in 1430, Isabella’s first husband was killed during the Battle of Mieux and she died in 1439. It was her second husband, the Earl of Warwick, that excited me the most. For his first marriage to Elizabeth de Berkeley (who died in 1422) is part of a long line that I can trace back to in my family tree: Richard and Elizabeth were my 15x great-grandparents. Over the generations, the women in my ancestry have often been rebellious and married against their parent’s wishes (see A Rebel in the Family for an example) – hence the fact that I am just a plain old commoner! Grandfather Richard commissioned another, more splendid brass tomb for himself in Warwick – another place on my list of ‘must visits’.

Bronze effigy of Richard Beauchamp who died in 1439 [*Wikipedia: Robin Stevenson*]

So what caused the Abbey Church to become just a Parish Church? It was, of course, due to the desire of Henry VIII to divorce and remarry brought about his separation from the Church of Rome. His subsequent Dissolution of the Monasteries swept away the buildings and created the spectacular ruins that we find dotted around the English countryside today. A similar fate would have happened to the church in Tewkesbury if it had not been for the argument, fortunately won, that to demolish the church would leave town without a place of worship. How fortunate for us today, for the architecture, history and splendour of the building makes it an almost unique example of early Norman ecclesiastical buildings.

The tall Norman arch is unmatched for size in England

Tewkesbury, as has been stated, is built along the banks of the River Severn, England’s longest river which is subject to tidal bores and rapid changes in it’s flow height. As a result, the town is often flooded. Despite being built so close to the river, the floodwaters have only entered the church on two occasions, in 1760 and, more recently, in 2007. It is often shown in news features totally surrounded by the flood waters.

Modern stained glass at Tewkesbury Abbey

The Gaia exhibit has now ended at Tewkesbury. It is being shown as an ongoing exhibition in the UK at UCL, London; International Centre for Life, Newcastle; Dynamic Earth, Scotland. In Ireland: Trinity College, Dublin. In Canada: Canadian Museum of Nature, Ontario. American readers have the opportunity of seeing it in the USA at Houston Museum of Natural Sciences 12-28 April 2024.

To find our more about the Abbey church, its history and other topics in this blog follow the links below:
Tewkesbury Abbey
Gaia / Luke Jerram Isabel, Countess of Warwick Dissolution of the Monasteries

In Pursuit of Spooky

Posted on October 31, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

It’s Halloween so when can be a better time to consider what scares us and what doesn’t? To be honest, I don’t really ‘get’ Halloween. I don’t find any excitement in all those ghoulish faces cut into pumpkins or in the buying of fake cobwebs and skeletons. Perhaps it’s because I don’t care for fancy dress of any kind: for me there is only a feeling of mild embarrassment on other people’s behalf as they don face paint and hideous costumes. Quite why I should feel the need to apologise for other people’s silliness when they are obviously enjoying themselves enormously, as are those around them, goodness knows. After all, it’s just a bit of harmless fun, isn’t it? Possibly, but then again, possibly not.

Like many teenagers, I messed around with Ouija boards without any lasting harm, but they can be a great source of trauma and anxiety for others. It isn’t pumpkins and fancy dress that are scary, or for that matter, it isn’t the dead either, it’s the living. And the one that’s likely to scare us the most is our living self for who knows what our minds are capable of conjuring up. Despite my indifference to Halloween, I do like a good scary moment as much as (or perhaps even more than) the next person. There is nothing like exploring a derelict building – especially if you can visit at dusk as I did, the old mansion in the photos below – to get the mind working overtime.

*The abandoned and derelict Dunmore Park*

My feeling of unease only increased when, following a maze of passageways, I found myself in the cellars. I had forgotten my mobile phone and the only source of light I had was to trigger the flash on my camera. Of course, that only gave the briefest moment of vision before plunging me into even greater darkness. Extracting myself from the cellars, I made my way through derelict gardens only to find an equally ruined tower. Pushing open the door I chose not to explore further when I realised that I was entering an empty crypt – were the coffins scattered nearby, I wondered. It was definitely time to get back home and to the land of the living.

*I just couldn’t resist entering the far door…*

*The empty crypt in the tower was just a little too creepy for me!*

A few years ago I received an invitation to a house party and stay overnight in a remote, medieval manor house. Arriving, again at dusk, and expecting to find a throng of people, instead I entered an empty and dark house. Fortunately, the electric lights worked but as I explored the building with its stone staircases and grotesque carvings I half-wondered if I was about to star in a real-life crime drama, tricked by someone with a long-held grudge. My imagination went into overdrive when leaning against a wall of oak panelling, it opened to reveal a secret room. I was glad when my fellow partygoers arrived and the house became a lively and wonderful place to stay.

*Just one of several staircases at medieval Wortham Manor*

*The grotesque carvings with eyes that seemed to follow you…*

*The panel opened unexpectedly to reveal a secret room*

Of the various creepy experiences that I have sought out or endured (depending on the circumstance) perhaps, rather surprisingly, the ones that have unsettled me most of all have been places that are normally associated with crowds, bustle and noise. The ferry to Ireland is a case in point and an unlikely candidate for spooky. Somehow, I became the first person to board and as I walked along empty decks and through deserted lounges, it felt rather as if I had just discovered the Marie Celeste. Of course, it was only a very short while before other passengers arrived but not before I’d begun to think that others must have known something that I didn’t and had decided to stay away.

*The deserted ferry to Ireland was surprisingly spooky*

*What had happened to all the other passengers???*

Perhaps the very creepiest place I’ve experienced was also the one I would have least expected it to be. Walking home late one night I decided to take a short cut through the fairground which had closed a couple of hours earlier. Associated with noise, excitement, music and flashing lights, the area was silent and deserted. There was no danger but around each corner I expected to find someone lurking in the shadows, not helped by the ghoul I came across hanging from a scaffold behind the blacked-out House of Horrors. Arriving back home in the darkness and silence of the secret valley I was met by the reflection of a hundred eyes watching me. Fortunately, they were real-life sheep and thankfully, not the ghosts of countless Sunday roasts coming back to haunt me.

*The deserted fairground: shadows and surprises around every corner…*

*Being watched as I walk home late at night*

So, what do you like/dislike about Halloween? What scares you the most? I will be intrigued to know!

Moving Into Autumn

Posted on September 24, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

The autumnal equinox has just past and with it comes those rare, clear and sunny days when the outdoors beckons, and your senses become alive to every detail. Perhaps it is because you’re all too aware that soon there will be many days when the countryside is shrouded in a clinging, wet mist that takes hours to lift, if it does at all. An early-start walk is all the better for several reasons: the light is extraordinary, the air clear, and there are few, if any, people out and about. Perhaps, best of all, with the shortening days, early isn’t at some God-forsaken hour 😉

From our little, Cotswold stone-built house it is only a matter of yards to the river. Unlike the true days of Autumn, the river is also clear. All too soon, the warmth mixing with the cool will see the vapours rise, often hiding the surface and sometimes blanketing the whole valley. Today, despite the frequent rain showers we’ve been having the water levels are low, there are no birds singing and I have only a sentinel heron to share it with. Dismayed at my appearance, he flies off lazily with a scolding, harsh croak only to settle a few yards further away to watch me as I pass. No sooner have I done so than he returns to his favoured spot to continue his hunt for crayfish.

Although the sun is shining, it is still set low in the sky, casting lengthy shadows and intensifying the first changes of colour in the trees. As it climbs higher, so the colours will appear to fade and the shadows shorten, and another part of the early-morn magic will be lost for another day.

Reaching the plantation, the sun filters through the still-densely clothed branches, diffusing the light and giving it the look of an Impressionist painting. Perhaps this is how Monet got his inspiration when looking at his waterlily pool. The path stretching ahead just invites you to walk onwards. At its end, where it meets the lane, the first of the stone houses in the nearby village remain silent, as do they all, for their occupants are still either asleep or not yet venturing out. They are missing so much but I relish the silence and glad that it isn’t disturbed by the sounds of civilisation.

*Almost, if not quite*, *an Impressionist painting!*

There are four lanes that lead into the secret valley. The one that I now take is little used and the grass grows thickly in its centre. Another is similar and, with no passing places for a mile should you meet another vehicle, only those with good reversing skills tend to use it. Occasionally a ‘lost’ driver attempts it, thinking it will be a short cut to their intended route, only to end up traumatised by the experience.

*One of the little-use lanes out of the secret valley…*

All along the lanes, the banks and hedgerows are thick with berries and the fading flowers of summer. Every year I intend to make a note of what I see but, although I never do, I can be fairly certain of seeing the same late bloomers, sometimes right though to Christmas. These single flowers are extra-special, as they cling onto life reminding us of their glories past and giving us hope for the following year.

*l-r top: hawthorn berries, crab apples, campion*
*l-r bottom: cranes-bill, prickly sow-thistle*

I have reached the cattle sheds now at the top of the hill above my cottage. Large and airy, they are empty and silent now for the livestock is still out in the fields and making the most of the last of the summer grazing. By Christmas if the season is reasonably mild and dry, or sooner if not, they will be brought in to be kept dry, warm and fed. The barns surrounding the sheds are stacked high with straw and hay, their bedding and feed – in a good year, there will be enough to last the winter however long it maybe; in poor summers extra will need be purchased for they will not be returned to the valley’s water-meadows until they have calved and the weather is right.

*Enjoying the last of the good weather…*

It is a short downhill walk to home now. Within minutes I will be back, the kettle on and looking forward to a well-deserved breakfast.

Woodstock and Blenheim Palace

Posted on July 24, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

Woodstock, a small town in the Oxfordshire Cotswolds, has a long history. The Domesday Book, a survey of England & Wales completed in 1086, describes it as a Royal Forest – a hunting preserve for nobility. Fifty years later the area was enclosed by a high wall, a shooting lodge built, and exotic animals, lions and leopards kept within. Just short of a century later, in 1179, King Henry II built Woodstock Palace and granted a Royal Charter that established a market on its boundary. From thereon, the town developed and prospered. The palace witnessed several important moments in English history including the imprisonment of the then Princess Elizabeth who became Queen Elizabeth the First, and later, it sheltered King James I who had fled London during a plague. By 1653 the Palace had been destroyed by the Roundheads (Parliamentarians) during the English Civil War.

*The original palace at Woodstock built by Henry II in 1179 [Source:Wikipedia]*

The ruins of the palace and its parkland were gifted by the nation to the 1st Duke of Marlborough in recognition of his military triumphs that climaxed with the Battle of Blenheim in 1704. Blenheim Palace, for which Woodstock is now justly famed and visited annually by thousands from all over the world, was built in its place and, with over 180 rooms, it is one of the largest privately-owned houses in England. The birthplace (in 1874) and ancestral home of wartime leader, Sir Winston Churchill, the splendour and history of the Palace was recognised as an UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1987.

*Blenheim Palace, one of the largest private houses in England*

With mixed financial fortunes over the centuries, the Palace has seen many changes both internally and externally. The parkland was much altered by the eighteenth-century landscape architect, Capability Brown. The River Glyme that runs through the park was dammed and the Great Lake formed, in the process part-drowning the enormous bridge designed by Vanbrugh. Incidentally, the river is the same one as the little winding river that flows in ‘our (now not so secret!) secret valley’ and used in the header of this blog.

*The dammed tiny River Glyme* *created the Great Lake at Blenheim Palace…*

*…in the process, the huge bridge designed by Vanbrugh was partly submerged*

Despite the centuries that have passed, the town still clusters outside the entrance to Blenheim Palace. Being so small (only 3,500 people live here), it is a great place to explore on foot – something that is missed by most visitors to the Palace who, if they enter the town at all, stay within the two shop-lined streets at its centre. Behind these lie the church and quaint, timbered houses.

*Ancient houses overhang the narrow streets of Woodstock*

*All the old house and cottages differ from one another in appearance*

Of course, it is the Palace that dominates Woodstock despite being barely visible from outside the Park. The entrance that cars and coaches enter by, is splendid enough, but doesn’t match the grandeur of the town gate. Just past the ‘tourist’ entrance (and so rarely noticed) are the splendid almshouses built in 1798 by Catherine, Duchess of Marlborough. A visit to the Woodstock Museum should be on everyone’s agenda too; it contains a dinosaur garden to keep the children happy.

*The gate by which visitors enter is grand enough but…*

*…it doesn’t match the splendour of the ‘town’ gate*

The town has several hotels and makes a good base to explore further afield; Oxford with its universities is only 15 miles away and there are numerous villages and National Trust properties and gardens to visit within the area. For keen hikers two long-distance trails, the Wychwood Way (36 miles) and Shakespeare’s Way (146 miles) pass through the town and, as in most of England, numerous public footpaths criss-cross the countryside where you can roam freely. Walking is one of the best ways to see the Cotswolds and it is great exercise too. All the footpaths connect with one another so you can easily take shorter walks but, if you have the time, it is possible to walk from one end of England to the other!

*The almshouses in Woodstock built in 1798*

***********************************
[If you would like specific details of any aspect of staying locally and/or walking routes, places to visit, etc please feel free to contact me and I will do my best to answer your queries]

Sources:
Wikipedia The Long Distance Walkers Association Cotswolds.info The Making of the English Landscape, W G Hoskins

A Walk by Stonehenge – part 2 – Woodhenge

Posted on June 18, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

The prehistoric monument of Stonehenge was built in alignment with the sunrise of both the summer and winter solstices. For many, it is a sacred time and a moment to connect with our ancestors of 5000 years ago. With the Summer Solstice just days away it seems appropriate to write the conclusion of a relatively gentle walk that incorporates not just Stonehenge but also the nearby and lesser-known Woodhenge. Part 1 of the walk, along with photos, can be found by clicking on the link here.

Access to the stones of Stonehenge is usually restricted by a fence to prevent the one million visitors that view them every year from damaging the stones by touch, or by eroding the ground the stones stand on. For the solstice the fence is removed so that it is possible to walk amongst the stones and to witness the sun as it rises behind the Heel Stone. Thousands of people will attend the solstice but I prefer solitude for my walks whenever possible. I would choose to stand at the Cursus and to look down on the stones (and the crowds) or even to sit silently at Woodhenge.

*A distant Stonehenge can be clearly seen from the Cursus*

So what is Woodhenge? The official description is “a timber monument comprising of six oval rings of posts”. Not the most inspiring but the more you explore Woodhenge the more fascinating it becomes. Of course, the timber posts have long since rotted, and now their positions are marked by low pillars of differing diameters. As you walk amongst them and begin to picture the timber posts, the tallest of which reached 9 metres (30 foot) in height and weighed five tons, you realise just how awe-inspiring it must have been, especially if they were coloured or carved in some way.

*Woodhenge as it may have looked 5000 years ago*

Woodhenge was built at the same time as Stonehenge and on the same summer/winter solstice alignment. The two henges, two miles apart, were possibly connected by paths, one showing as banks and ditches is marked on maps as Stonehenge Avenue. The Cursus also is in direct alignment with Woodhenge and in those pre-history days the two monuments probably could be seen from these points.

Excavation of the site took place in 1926 but it is only now that more detailed studies are taking place. The initial dig discovered the body of a child at the centre of the circle and it was thought to have been sacrificed there. The remains were taken to London for later examination but were destroyed by bombing during WW2 before this took place. The grave is now marked by a small stone cairn. Other remains found within the circle were numerous pieces of pottery, butchered pig bones and, just outside the entrance, the body of a teenager. These finds indicate that activity at the site continued for many hundreds of years, long after the posts had rotted.

*The site of the grave of the child is now marked by a cairn*

Although the purpose of Woodhenge can only be surmised, the recent interest in it and its relationship to Stonehenge, Durrington Walls and other sites within the Stonehenge World Heritage Site, slowly reveal more connections between them. One such thought is that it may have held a spiritual connection with Stonehenge: the stones of Stonehenge being the enduring place of the spiritual world, whereas Woodhenge, with its feasting and slowly decaying timbers, the transformation of life towards death. Interestingly, similarities with ancient sites in Madagascar, although 4000 years later than those in England, can be found.

*When I first visited Stonehenge as a child in the early 1960s there were far fewer people about!*

To visit Stonehenge for free involves a walk not dissimilar to this one. Park in Durrington village and take the public bridleway path (where it meets Fargo Road) directly south to Stonehenge. The path passes the stones within yards of the public viewing path so you will still be separated from the stones. Public footpaths continue southwards, criss-crossing an area rich in more barrows and other ancient earthworks. With the help of an Ordnance Survey map it should be quite possible to make a longer, circular walk.

**Click on any of the images to enlarge**

Sources:
English Heritage Wikipedia

Here, Take It, and Don’t Cry [Nadir Un Vayn Nisht]

Posted on April 15, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

The evening of Sunday 8^th February 1942 saw an elite group of actors, writers and singers come together to celebrate the work of their friend and colleague, Jakub Obarzanek, then at the height of his fame as an editor, comic writer and satirist. Within months all of them would be dead, shot or gassed in the concentration camps of Poland, executed because of their Jewish heritage or political comment, or both.

*Invitation for the evening performance celebrating the work of Jakub Obarzanek, 1942*

Jakub was born on 15^th January 1891, probably in the city of Lodz where he lived for much of his life. The first son born to Samuel & Gitla, and into a comfortably off family, he would have been expected to follow in his father’s footsteps and work in the family business as a wholesale cloth merchant. However, Jakub had always wanted to write and in 1918 he published his first pieces of work – humorous songs and verses in the Lodzier Togblat, one of the premier Polish Jewish newspapers.

*Jakub Obarzanek standing left with three workmates, 1930s*

Writing always in Yiddish, and under the pen name ‘Ob-nek’, Jakub very quickly developed a following amongst his readers and soon joined the permanent staff, editing and writing for the Friday edition. As his talent develops, he begins writing sketches satirising everyday Jewish Street life which, again is eagerly read by a public wanting more. During this time, he also begins collaborating with various revue theatres writing witty sketches, songs and monologues. All was going well until 1939 when the Germans invaded Poland, arriving in Lodz on September 8th.

*Najer Folksblat newspaper, one of the publications Josef wrote for*

One of the first moves the Gestapo made was to arrest Jewish writers and intelligentsia and Jakub along with others was taken to Radogoszcz, a factory now being used as a prison. It had no baths or kitchens. Almost immediately the killings began with the intelligentsia taken into nearby woods and shot. For reasons unknown, Jakub was freed in early 1940, possibly because a ransom of 150 marks would permit prisoners to be relocated to the Lodz Ghetto. However, sometime during 1940 he had made his way – or perhaps been taken – to Warsaw. Here, confined in the Ghetto he continues with his writing, helps to create a new revue theatre and providing them with material. The last we hear of Jakub is the evening performance celebrating his work.

*The Radogoszcz* *factory where Jakub was imprisoned and now a museum [Wikipedia]*

It is not known whether Jakub was present for the performance. My feeling is probably not. What we do know is that he was once again arrested and was finally executed during April 1943. Married to Mala, Jakub had a daughter, name sadly unknown, and two sons, Moshe and Simon. Mala and the girl perished in the death camps. Whether they died alongside Jakub is also unknown, or even if they were with him after he moved to Warsaw. Both Moshe and Simon survived the concentration camps but were very badly traumatised by their childhood suffering. They ended their days in Israel but I have little knowledge of whether they were able to lead a full and fulfilling life.

*Translated description of the invitation, 1942*

The performers at the celebration of Jakub’s work were, as mentioned celebrated artists of their day.

Zymra Zeligfeld – a famous singer of Yiddish folk songs – murdered in Treblinka Death Camp, 1942
Chana Lerner – actress and wife of Dawid Zajderman, tenor – murdered together 3^rd November 1943, Majdanek Death Camp
Symche Fostel – comic actor of International renown – murdered in Pontiatowa Death Camp, 1943
Jack Lewi – actor of International renown & close friend of Franz Kafka – murdered in Treblinka Death Camp, 1942

A(jzyk) Samberg – famous Jewish actor – murdered in Poniatowa Death Camp 1943 Prof (Icchak) Zaks – founded the Internationally renowned, 120-strong Icchak Zaks Chorus; researcher and translator of opera into Yiddish, and music teacher – murdered in Treblinka Death Camp, 1942

*l-r: Zymra Zeligfeld, Chana Lerner, Symche Fostel (centre), Icchak Zaks*
*all had been executed by the end of 1943* *[Wikipedia]*

Jakub, as has been shown, was a popular man, much admired by his friends and colleagues; he must have been a brave man too and not only with his satirical writing and working knowing that he was unlikely to survive the war. Earlier, just prior to WW1, my grandfather, Harry Obarzanek, Jakub’s younger brother had been living in England when he was conscripted into the Russian army (Poland at that time was part-under Russian control). Now in army camp in Ukraine, he wrote to Jakub telling of his anxiety of being away from his wife for three years. Jakub arrived bringing false papers, civilian clothes and a ticket to England and helped Harry abscond whilst on duty. If they had been caught both would have been shot. If it hadn’t been for my great-uncle Jakub’s help, perhaps my own family would have suffered the same terrible fate as Jakub’s. A humbling thought. I hope that with my writing, I have given Jakub the voice that was so very nearly lost, and that it is an adequate tribute to our brave and witty family hero.

*Brothers: my grandfather, Harry (left) & my great-uncle Jakub Obarzanek*

How appropriate it seems that I am able to write about Jakub’s life and publish it on the 80^th anniversary of his death. A very special thanks to Chaya Bercovici who saw my initial Facebook plea for information relating to Jakub and, by some miracle, remembered hearing of my grandfather’s escape from Poland. Is it too fanciful that Jakub, knowing of this, might have said, “Nadir un vayn nisht”, “Here, take it, and don’t cry”, the words used as the title to his tribute evening?

A Walk by Stonehenge – part 1

Posted on March 21, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

It is many years since I last visited Stonehenge, the prehistoric standing stones so closely attuned to the midsummer solstice. Renowned throughout the world, it has been listed as an UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1986. With fame comes numerous issues, not least how to cope with the estimated one million visitors that come to see them each year. To prevent damage to the stones through soil erosion and, surprisingly, physical damage through the chipping off of ‘mementos’, the stones are now cordoned off. This fencing is removed to allow access at the time of the midsummer solstice, a time when hundreds of people wait through the night for the midsummer sun to rise directly between the stones. The image below is of a postcard that my great-aunt sent me in 1963 when the stones were much less frequently visited and reminds me of those early years when I used to play amongst them.

*Stonehenge was far less visited back in the 1960s!*

The Stonehenge World Heritage Site covers an area that includes other Neolithic standing stones close by. A few miles away, and unlike Stonehenge, a place where you can walk amongst the stones every day of the year, is Avebury. This circle is huge and considerably older than Stonehenge: flint tools dating back 9000 years show that early man was passing that way 4000 years before Stonehenge was built. Avebury is the place to visit if you want to get close enough to touch the stones and it is also completely free to visit. To visit Stonehenge can be quite costly although there is another way you can see the stones (legally) without paying if you’re prepared to walk – see below.

*Avebury Stone Circle – part of the Stonehenge World Heritage Site*

The third site, and to my mind, the best one for you will almost certainly have the place to yourself, is known as Woodhenge & Durrington Walls. To be really impressed by this comparatively unknown place you do need to know some background information of its history plus a vivid imagination. For me, it is such an atmospheric place to visit that the latter has never been an issue! I recommend starting your walk here and walking inside the circle of Durrington Walls before exploring Woodhenge. The first thing that is noticeable about Durrington Walls is that there are no walls! The circular bank and ditch that surrounds the site was enormous and consisted of the bank itself which would have been several metres high. The ditch originally was over five metres deep and, in places, up to thirty metres wide. It is estimated that between four and six thousand people would have been needed to build the walls as well as the various houses and large timber circles associated with the site. A feat quite remarkable nowadays let alone over four thousand years ago using just antler pickaxes! Although nothing remains above ground now, apart from the bank, I found it very easy to imagine, as I walked alone and in silence, the bustle and noise of these industrious people.

*Within Durrington Walls, now a grassy bank, up to 6000 people once lived*

*Information boards help you to understand the context of what you are not seeing!*

Leaving Durrington Walls I made my way to the Cuckoo Stone, my only companions, sheep. Now fallen, this stone would originally have been placed upright. Looking at maps, it appears to be more, or less in line with the Great Cursus (more about that below) which in turn leads to Stonehenge. The Cuckoo Stone, positioned 4000 years ago, continued to be ritually used into Roman times for in 2007, during archaeological excavation, a small building thought to be a shrine from that period was discovered.

*Close to the Cuckoo Stone a Roman shrine once stood*

Leaving the Cuckoo Stone, my path led to an old track edged by wildflowers humming with bees and butterflies and bringing me out at the top of the Cursus. The Cursus is another huge earthwork showing nowadays as a crop mark – two bright green stripes in an otherwise darker landscape. If you compare my photograph with the one of the information board (below), I was standing at the opposite end. In my image, the end of the Cursus can just be made out on the far horizon almost two miles distant. The purpose of the Cursus is unknown but thought to be ceremonial as it is again aligned to the summer solstice. It is even older than Stonehenge having been constructed several hundred years earlier.

*The two-mile long Cursus now only shows as two grassy green stripes*

*The Cursus is better understood from this aerial* *photograph*

Another good track took me due south before turning west to Old King Barrows and then back south to New King Barrows. Before leaving the Cursus I stood to watch the visitors to Stonehenge some long way off and thinking how lucky I was to have all of this unseen history of the World Heritage Site to myself with only the song of skylarks as company. More than five thousand years separated me from the Neolithic people yet surely, they must have stood here too and seen a similar picture as they made their way to join others already arrived, a humbling thought.

The Old and New King Barrows consist of two groups, each of seven burial mounds so fourteen in total, separated by Stonehenge Avenue which is only visible as another cropmark. The Avenue linked Stonehenge to the River Avon almost two miles away and was, perhaps, another route the Ancients would have taken to reach the stones. Despite their name, the Old and New King Barrows date from the same time period, and also around the same as Stonehenge.

*One of the prehistoric burial mounds at Old King Barrows*

It was by the barrows that I turned back towards Woodhenge, the last part of my relatively short but extraordinarily rich walk, rich both in its views and its wildlife, as well as its history. As if to bring me almost up-to-date in time, the sound of an old-fashioned binder in an adjoining field was busy bringing in the harvest. Not quite twenty-first century but a common sight less than a hundred years ago.

*Harvesting wheat the old-fashioned way*

The final part of my walk to Woodhenge can be found by clicking this link here.

**Click on any of the images to enlarge**

Three Very Special Cotswold Reasons – revisited

Posted on February 18, 2023 by johnshortlandwriter

Back in 2009 – which seems a lifetime ago now – I responded to a question posed by The Guardian newspaper and the English tourist authority: select three things that make a place very special. Naturally, I chose the Cotswolds and to my delight, my blog was just one of ten chosen and published by them to promote visits to this country. After fourteen years, I thought it time to take another look. Although the reasons still stand up well I’ve updated the photos and some of the text.

1. Space and Peace. I know this is technically two reasons but they are so interlinked that, in my mind, they only count as one. Besides, that way I can cram in an extra reason without appearing to cheat too much. The flat topped, rolling limestone hills that make up the Cotswolds offer far reaching views to the vales beyond. They free the mind and let the spirit wander – a rare occurrence in the busy world we all inhabit. This view looks north over glorious country to the Vale of Evesham and just invites you to start walking towards a distant goal.

Hidden in deep valleys, crystal clear streams create more secretive places to explore or to sit quietly by their banks to watch the water flow, sometimes gently, sometimes more noisily, by.

The King’s Men stone circle forms part of the Rollright Stones and have been a meeting place since they were set here 4,500 years ago. In early morning light they appear mysterious and brooding but when the sun strikes them their colours and markings are awe inspiring. Rest here a while, at a time when you can be alone, for the feeling of peace is palpable.

And give back to the soil an offering, (when we have taken so much away), as others have done from the beginnings of time and continue to do so. Single flowers placed at the centre of the circle have a calm simplicity…

2. Nature. It is impossible not to be aware of nature in the Cotswolds, whether it is the magnificence of old trees, the deer crossing roads in front of you or the cloud formations of our large skyscapes. This ancient ash tree has watched centuries of agricultural change take place and, despite modern farming practice, still stands proud in a hedgerow dividing wheatfields. In 2009 the fungal disease Ash Dieback was unknown. It is now thought that the majority of ash trees will succumb to it robbing the English landscape of their beauty. At present, the old pollard seems unaffected but whether it will survive only time will tell.

Since 2009 we have all become so much more aware of the value of dark skies. With so few big towns, the Cotswolds is a place where the nights are darker and the stars shine more brightly.

Deer are common throughout the Cotswolds. Roe and the introduced Muntjac are frequently seen but perhaps the prettiest, when in their spotted summer coats, are the Fallow.

In our rivers and streams, otters, although rarely seen, are now becoming evermore common – something else that has happened since 2009.

There are some exotic surprises too! A macaw outside a garage in Charlbury and alpaca seem to be everywhere, I wrote in 2009. The macaw has gone and even alpaca seem less common now but not far from the secret valley it is possible to see wolves and bear. I don’t think the two facts are connected!

3. History. The Cotswolds are steeped in history and it is the history of wealth and the power it brings. Sheep – or more accurately, their wool – were the originators of this wealth and the region still has a higher population of sheep to humans. But how to illustrate this when there is so much scope to choose from? Bliss Mill, in Chipping Norton, is now converted to luxury apartments but, for most of its time, produced some of the finest tweeds in Britain. I have since written in more detail of the history of the mill, the fire that engulfed it and the strike by the workers that brought poverty and starvation to the town (link here).

The churches of the Cotswolds were also a by-product of wool – the wealth it created is often shown by their huge size in proportion to the numbers of the local population. The photos I originally published were of St Mary’s, Chipping Norton. The ones below are of St Mary’s, Swinbrook; the village was the home of the famous (or, perhaps, infamous), Mitford sisters.