The River Hull Tragedy 1848

In 1848, in the City of Kingston Upon Hull the commute to work for a contingent of poorer industrial workers rapidly developed, through a series unfortunate yet avoidable events in to a major tragedy. 

The Kingston Cotton Mill was on the western side of the tidal River Hull on Cumberland Street in the Wincolmlee area which had a concentration of factories and premises in manufacturing and production.

Many of the employees lived in the densely populated terraced and back to back house streets on the eastern side of the river corridor such as The Groves off Cleveland Street and required the services of a Ferryboat for the daily crossings from home to workplace. This was a viable short cut avoiding a longer walk to the nearest bridge crossings. 

One such ferry crossing point was known as Old Harbour being some 40 to 50 yards from bank to bank.

Although the perception of a Ferry is now something substantial and robust the 1848 equivalent on the River Hull was just a small boat with a single crewman and oars or operated on a rope or chain.

The tariff for passengers was sixpence a week for an unlimited service although in reality dictated by patterns of shifts and the state of the tides and prevailing weather. 

On the morning of Friday 8th December 1848 the small ferry had been delayed after having run aground on the thick River mud banks and so causing a build up of workers understandably keen to get to work and not upset management or supervisors at their place of employment .

It will have been a dark and cold winters morning at 6am and tempers were frayed with quarrels and a clamour to get on board. This led to some panic and a number making a jump from the bank onto the boat. 

The Boatman, Charles Ireland who lived in nearby Church Street, was heard trying to discourage the impatient passengers and that the vessel could take no more. 

In addition the tidal River Hull was running rapidly towards its confluence with the Humber Estuary which made conditions treacherous. 

The arguments and bad behaviour of the passengers continued as the boat reached midstream. 

Under normal circumstances and a smooth passage the boat could usually cope with a bit of larking about and belligerence amongst its occupants but with an estimated 25 to 27 persons aboard the vessel keeled over throwing everyone into the icy cold water. 

The men and lads were able to strike out and swim for the shore but a number of the women were heard to scream on hitting the water and a few clung together for a few moments before the shock of the cold and weight of saturated clothes caused them to disappear into the murky brown depths. There had been no protocols or allowance of time for an organised abandon ship along the mantra of women and children first.

There followed an eerie and sobering silence before the mustering of a search and rescue attempt. 

This was difficult given the state of the tide which prevented other boats on the banks from being launched. Shipyard and Staithes workers alerted to the tragedy were powerless to do anything. 

The only course of action was to assist the survivors who had reached the shore and retrieve the unfortunate lifeless bodies of those who had perished. 

The death toll was shocking from what should have been a simple journey to work. 

14 died, amongst them 3 sisters and with two children aged 13 years. 

At the Inquest held the following July at the Reindeer Tavern the Boatman was exonerated of any blame and the cause given as accidental drowning due to the misconduct and unruly behaviour of individual passengers. 

A subscription was organised for the burial of the unfortunate victims

Inner City Squalor in Hull 1847

If you take a few moments to study old 19th Century maps of a place you start to build up a picture of what it must have been like to have lived there. 

There is only so much however that a one dimensional representation can convey. 

What cannot be imagined is the combination of sights, sounds and smells that will have been part of a typical everyday life for the residents and work force. 

A very graphic and disturbing account of my home city of Kingston Upon Hull as it was in 1847 really emphasises the squalor, deprivation and disease ridden environment of a good proportion, if not the majority of its inner city population. 

The document was a report of the Sanitary Committee of the Medical Society of Hull specifically on the sanitary state of the town. 

The streets, alleyways, courts and cul de sacs did have interesting and somewhat idyllic and characterful names. 

These are, apart from a few examples, long lost to todays Hull A to Z map. 

Bore's Entry, Dibbs Court, Caleys Entry, Paradise Place, Old Dark Side, Atlas Alley, Westwards Yard, Eastcheap, Botanic Terrace, Mechanics Lane, Tripps Square, Boteler Street, Popple Street, Marvel Street, Milligans Buildings, Dickens Entry and Black Swan Yard are just a few names. 

On the old maps the areas around the River Hull corridor and the network of land drains and ditches is a solid mass of black to denote the density of development. There is little differentiation between houses and industry as they co-existed wall to wall, yard to yard. 

The dwellings were rented as the notion of owner occupation was only within the means of the very wealthy and emerging middle class and so the slum landlords went for the smallest floor areas, back to back buildings, tiny windows and no fireplaces which meant very poor natural light and ventilation. 

Overcrowding was the norm with reports of 3 married couples in one room, concentrations of 15, 16 and 21 persons both adult, child and infants across 3 rooms. The highest density seen in Hull was 46 persons in less than a handful of rooms. 

Even worse was that the essential amenities, however crude, had to be shared and it was not unusual for 1 privy lavatory albeit just a bucket of soil or open trench, to serve ten users. 

Very few of the housing areas had, what the Committee Report referred to as "covered channels of communication with the main drain" meaning that all foul waste, bodily and other, just ran under natural flow into the nearest drains or stagnated.  

There were badly constructed outfalls which impeded the removal of the sewage to the usual watercourses such as the Damson Drain. The occupants of St Quintins Place, William Street and Hedgerow Drain were said to be "strangers to the purity of atmosphere". 

The description of stinking ditches and smoking dung hills was as damning as it was evocative of the poor living conditions. 

The term "Muck Garth" was used for the location at the end of each terrace or block of tenements and houses where human excrement and detritus was deposited. They were no more than open ditches and the combination of decomposing effluent, animal carcasses and vegetation made for a cocktail of stifling and toxic emissions. 

There was little open space for a breeze to dissipate this stench and in the summer months in particular the air quality was oppressive. The liquid refuse could only be depleted by evaporation under the sun. 

Add to the human lifestyle factor the presence of domestic animals in the houses and courtyards and you got the cumulative effect of pig waste and from kept rabbits. The word Middenstead, long since disappeared from the vocabulary, referred to a dunghill. These could be piled up against the walls of the houses and with pungent and harmful liquids and residues seeping into cellars, wells and standing in fetid pools on the unmade or badly paved paths and roads. 

The population were captive in these areas of Hull because it was where they found their means of employment. 

There was no regulation or control of where and how industry could establish itself or in its processes and waste products. Factories on the very doorstep of the squalid housing produced noxious and hazardous gases and odours. A common stench was from Sulphate of Ammonia which was used in many lines of manufacture. Dense smoke persisted in the districts and was absorbed into the lungs and wash-line hung clothes of the residents. 

The industry of Hull included fish drying, bone boiling for soap and glue products, slaughter houses, glass and rope works, whale blubber processing, foundry's and ship building. 

The work force eked out a pitiful living in these operations and suffered for it in frequent debilitating illness and mortality rates for adults and children were disproportionately high in all of the Inner City Wards of Hull even those where improvements in housing and drainage had been implemented. 

The impact of fever, stomach complaints, English Cholera, dysentery and respiratory illness was disastrous on families and the wider population. 

The 1847 Report will have shocked and terrified its authors in equal amounts but was the catalyst for public expenditure by the Corporation to bring in clean water, swiftly and hygienically remove waste, upgrade living conditions and slowly improve the existence and health of the people of Hull. 

Many of the aforementioned streets  were not actually demolished and cleared until the second half of the 20th Century.

Mine Camp 1889

The grainy imaged or sepia tinted photographs depicting Victorian life and times are all very interesting and evocative of that era in the history of our country. However, being in black and white we are deprived of the reality of what were often multi and vibrant colours of clothes, street decorations and buildings. 

Take for example, in my home City of Kingston Upon Hull (or just Hull), the Parade of the Humber Division of Sub-Marine Miners on July 29th 1889. 

The newspaper coverage of the event, not actually a formal State, Commemorative or Guard of Honour occasion, described the very bright uniform of the Regiment which was compared to the brilliance of a Rifle Brigade in tunic and that of Artillerymen in their trousers. 

Add to this the appearance of stylish forage caps, garters and accoutrements and it is little wonder that what was just a march down to the Victoria/Corporation Pier to catch a paddle steamer to the Annual Training Camp at High Paull attracted quite a crowd of onlooker and well-wishers. 

Smoke and flags were raised and cheers rang out to support the newly formed Division of this specialised branch of the military. 

The role of Sub-Marine Miners had been established in 1886 under a War Office Circular and taken up in Hull in the following year with an inaugural 60 personnel. 

The title of the Regiment does sound a bit confusing at first- Sub-Marine Miners but refers not to underwater excavation but the emerging science based weaponisation of fixed explosive mines

The fear amongst the Generals and Senior Staff was of the vulnerability of the mighty Estuaries of the United Kingdom to attack from foreign powers. 

In official language the emphasis was to maintain a permanent peace in the country and in the interests of providing security for commerce. In more colloquial terms and specifically in Hull the principal aim was afford a high level of protection by converting the River Humber into a death-trap if enemies dared to come around Spurn Point and threaten the Ports and population centres.. 

Our perception of mines nowadays is largely from seeing spiky horned ,black or colour painted old wartime sphere shaped objects used as charity collection boxes on many typical English seaside promenades but in the late 1880's they were a bit more basic and crude. 

Made out of glass containers packed with nitro-glycerin they were quite effective but also very hazardous to handle. 

The methodology to which the Sub-Marine Miners aspired was to create a fixed field of mines to defend estuaries and harbours with these being fired electrically from the shore by spotters with knowledge of the exact location so as to damage or deter any invaders. 

It was nothing pioneering as the use of mines was documented in the ancient world and adopted to some effect in conflicts through history. 

On that summers day some 100 men and officers paraded from the Wenlock Barracks in the west of the City via Park Street to reach the Pier. 

The 1889 Training Camp at High Paull was 15 days of activities. 

Due to the need for skilled men the pay was amongst the highest in the military disciplines. The training included mock battles and seminars on modern electrical systems. 

The culmination of the fortnight was the blowing up of a large raft in the main Estuary channel by means of electrical charge and witnessed by many gathered on the breakwaters. 

Unfortunately the Military Command sought to dilute the role of this specialist discipline and in 1891 reverted the Regiment from a Volunteer Division to q Militia. 

Many of the original intake of members objected to the onerous change in terms and conditions and simply resigned. 

The title of Sub-Marine Miners seems to have been lost from public familiarity due to its short lived and ultimately unnecessary purpose and role in the defence of the country and in particular on the doorstep of the Port of Hull.

Left to our own devices

This is a particular favourite from a few years ago with shameless childhood reminiscences..... 

We called it "The Device". 

It was a name that suited our sense of mystery and excitement as young children making the most of the play value of our local environment. 

Before the realisations of "stranger danger" and the like we roamed freely through the town streets, back lanes, fields, woods and any private property not protected by anything that resembled a physical barrier to inquisitive souls.

The Device had appeared one afternoon. 

We did not see how it came to be in our domain because for some part of the day we were required to be at school. In reality, two men from the Council had arrived in a van carrying the apparatus. 

It consisted of two parallel cables, thick, rubberised and secured to the road with hammered in brackets through the tarmac. Fairly ordinary stuff to us who had experience of quite technical things from prising the lids off gas meter boxes, leaving metal objects in the path of Municipal Grass Mowers  and throwing old plimsolls up  to straddle the lines and cables that criss-crossed the district. 

We stood on the kerb and verge and weighed up The Device. The ends of the cables were just that, ends. Squatting like a golfer in the planning of a long putt we took turns to squint along the full distance of the strands. They were perfectly aligned and with regular and solid fixing to the carriageway. A stout stick, wedged under the sections between the brackets was unable to dislodge anything to any satisfying extent and we soon lost interest. 

The road itself was a busy one. In our short lifetimes to date we had seen the traffic levels increase significantly as our town continued to expand with new housing, shops and business premises. When at one time it was possible to just sit on the kerb, feet on a drain gully for a good proportion of a summers day the same practice now ran a real risk of being run over or tossed up into the hedge in the bow-wave and slipstream from a large articulated lorry. One of our number had been hospitalised after having his toes crushed under the wheels of a delivery van for Liptons Stores.

A project in school about the olden days had included studying a yellowing parchment type map, or even a bit like linen on a gauze backing. What was now the busy road had been, some 100 years before, but a single line rough cart track going and coming from nowhere in particular. 

Times had certainly changed. In a lull in the otherwise constant movement of vehicles the braver amongst us mimicked a tightrope walk along one of the cables or straddling both. As the black lines lifted up over the far kerb they disappeared from view into the unkempt grass of the verge. A scuffing action with our feet cleared the vegetation where it covered the cables. 

It was at that point that we found the main part, the brains of The Device. It was a small metal box. 

Our Mother had a Tupperware container about the same size which could easily cope with a full packet, although of shortlived existence, of digestive biscuits and remnants of former wrappings around Custard Creams, Abbey Crunch and , my particular favourite, Bourbons. The sizes of the rectangular objects were compatible and perhaps Mother should have followed the example of The Device by fitting a large, imposing padlock to the biscuit container to prevent it from being opened.

Even the best tempered steel was not strong enough for the impact of half a brick and the lock was easily demolished. 

Inside we found some sort of mechanism and a dial display of black numbers around a series of white drums. As we stared at our discovery there was a whirring and a clicking sound. The right hand digit increased by one. The same sounds and process repeated on a regular basis and the counted total increased each time by a single increment. I think we must have been a bit thick because it took some time for us to realise that the action of the display was caused by the passage of a vehicle, along the road and  over the cables. 

In a collective expression of "oohh, The Device counts traffic" , thoughts of mischief and mayhem flooded into our young and active minds. 

In the following weeks and at every opportunity out of school and having completed any domestic chores we all took it in turns to jump up and down on The Device. 

It was quite a logistical operation involving most of the kids in the area. There were those keeping an eye out for cars and lorries using the road. Others were witnesses to the increasing count of the dials. On a strict rota all of us, bar none, showed great energy and commitment in jumping up and down. 

Initial curiosity in increasing the digits on a steady, plodding, marching action basis soon developed into very intense competition to achieve the highest count in any sixty second stint. Quite maniacal behaviour ensued and the All Comers Best Record for counts per minute changed hands, it seemed, just about every time someone took up the challenge. 

Within twenty four months that stretch of road had returned to its mid Victorian status as a quiet and sleepy lane, going from nowhere to nowhere because the town had a brand new, dual carriageway by-pass. 

Apparently the Council and Highways Departments, after undertaking a structured and authoritative traffic survey had grossly underestimated the amount of vehicle movements in proximity to the housing estate and what was evidently a very popular open play area for the local children. The original 10 year plan to create a safe, family orientated environment was accelerated in the interests of safety and amenity.

Even today, some 50 years later, when I drive along the 'A' Road that runs around the periphery of my town I have a sense of misguided civic pride.

The Roos Flashers

This is one of my all time favourite pieces on a local history find in East Yorkshire 

I was always a bit reluctant to take out and walk my dogs early in the morning.

This may have partly been down to laziness, the prospect of cold air supplanting that nice cozy, warm position under the duvee or the physical effort to propel my body along vertically when it was so much easier to give in to gravity and just lie prone and horizontal in bed. 

However, a tangible element in the whole reluctant attitude thing was that it always seemed to be reported in the media that the gruesome discovery of a body or bodies was always made by a man walking a dog or dogs in the early hours just after dawn.

 

I was happy to leave potential for such discoveries to the likes of taxi-drivers, joggers or the Postman.

 

In much the same chain of thought I always got the impression that men digging ditches, in the old way by hand, were always likely to come up with interesting things.

 

This is borne out by a previous blog about the stumbling across, by ditch digging men in 1989 , of the treasure trove of artefacts, thought lost, but actually just stored in the buried basement rooms of the bombed Municipal Museum of Hull since 1943.

 

Of course, any excavations with shovel, pick and wrecking bar can be hazardous for those wielding the implements. In Hull, even today, any construction projects breaking into the heavy clay top-soils whether on a virgin site or previously built upon ground , stand a chance of unearthing unexploded Ordnance from the second world war. An academic year does not go by without a small child bringing in a live ammunition shell with German markings to 'show and tell' to classmates inevitably dug up from an urban flower bed by their Grandfather or Uncle. The sighting of the small white bomb disposal van with Police escort is still very common on our streets. 

 

Other risks include hitting an unforeseen pipe or cable or what must be a horrible initial feeling of the blade of a spade cutting into a human skull just under the surface. I have felt some concern for workers on a large housing estate on the site of derelict docklands close to the City Centre as my perusal of Old Maps indicates the prior existence of a Leprosy and Cholera Hospital. Diagnosis of symptoms of such afflictions may not be covered by Health Insurance if disturbed and made airborne by pick and shovel.

 

On rarer occasions, accepted,  the damp, waterlogged and unpleasant practice of ditch digging may find something fabulously significant;

 

 

Take these cheeky chappies. Just ignore the oversized genitalia for the moment and concentrate on the context of the image.

They were dug up by, yes, by a gang of labouring ditch diggers in 1836 way out towards the seaside town of Withernsea on a tract of agricultural land called Roos Carr. Their antiquity and significance were not really appreciated until modern radio carbon dating techniques were available in archaeological investigation and this revealed  them to be  about 2600 years old, well into the Bronze Age or early Iron Age. Experts without such technological assistance considered their origins as Viking from a raiding party or the work of an enthusiastic lone Scripture themed wood carver and depicting Noah and his family.

The location, so far in the past will have been reasonably inland from the coast particularly given that, in the documented period from the Doomsday Book in 1086 , there was at least three miles to the cliff top rather than about two farmers fields now. The location may have been thickly forested or marshy and barren.

The items, embedded in thick heavy blue clay were well preserved. As well as several of the distinctive and intimidating warrior Figures standing between 35cm and 41cm tall ( see picture above) complete with quartzite eyes and those nifty detachable genitalia, there was a serpent headed boat with paddles, and a wooden box. One of the figures appears to have gone missing until 1902 when it was acquired by Hull Museums after decades of having been played with as a doll by the daughter of one of the original labouring gang.

The Victorians fixed four of the figures with glue and nails into the serpent boat as it was speculated that they belonged as crew. Their prudish attitude either out of denial or to spare the blushes of Museum Visitors considered what was actually intended as the male parts to be short arms.

Carved from Yew their purpose has long since been a matter of informed discussion. The fact that they were buried suggests a Votive Offering to the gods with no intention for them ever to be recovered. The use of Yew is thought to have some significance as it was often associated with particular deities in the prehistoric world of ritual and religion.

Only 9 other similar caricature discoveries have been made in the British Isles and Ireland which makes the Roos Carr figures very important not only in the context of the history of this part of northern and western Europe but in world history. 

For all that, the figures are not that well known but were voted into the top 100 of the Yorkshire World Collection as part of the London Cultural Olympiad Programme. Presumably some way behind Geoffrey Boycott's cricket bat, Harry Ramsden's Fish and Chip Frying Range, Aunt Bessie's batter puddings, Pontefract Cakes, Black Sheep Ale, a night out in Hull and a picture postcard of Whitby or Scarborough..

The musings of Capability Brown

 I never found it very funny. Who in their right mind would devise such a thing? 

There I would be, in the innocence of my childhood years, in the grounds of some Country House whilst on a day trip with the family.  There was always plenty to see and enjoy amongst the opulence and splendour of some well-to-do persons’ home and grounds. I did not appreciate at that young age the merits of a collection of art or furnishings or the finer points or architectural period design.

What I did like, however, were the wide open spaces around these establishments. Understandably oblivious to most things and free to lark about I did not deserve to then come a cropper by falling over the edge of a lawn into an abysss, albeit usually soft and grassy below. 

As usual, my carefree wanderings led me to be a victim of the landscaped feature of a Ha-Ha. 

Yes, very funny, hilarious and no doubt that the first ever unfortunate soul to suffer the embarrassment of a tumble resolved the whole issue in the mind of its designer as to what to call it. They are quite a common sight on National Trust, English Heritage or Private Estates in the UK which suggests that they were once a sought after item for the discerning aristocrat or wealthy land owning businessman or industrialist. 

The concept is perhaps found in today's architecture and design of infinity swimming pools in that there is no differentiation between the surface of the water and the distant horizon. 

The traditional Ha-Ha has been around since at least the 17^th Century in France but not reaching England until late in the following century when it became part of the sales catalogue and portfolio of large scale Landscape Gardeners such as Bridgeman, Kent and Capability Brown. 

The actual concept is pretty simple in that it combined the criteria of keeping grazing livestock from accessing the more formal pleasure gardens of a Country House and yet did not throw up an intrusive obstacle which could infringe on the views from said property. 

"Let us in, it's friesian out here"

The other options were of course a conventional raised wall or metal stock fencing which had little scope for improvement of form over function. 

Going back further in time where there was a need to provide security against attack the role of the Ha Ha was performed by a Moat some of which were huge and cumbersome earthworks with the trench soil used to form a bank or in another defensive role. 

However, a typically sophisticated, genteel and extravagant clientele as emerged in the 17th and 18th centuries with no actual or perceived threat or peril to their existence will have been seduced by the idea of a feature with a bit of fun attached to it albeit likely to be at the expense of a servant, visitor or unsuspecting trespasser. 

Fast forward to the commercial value of the tourist industry to asset rich but cash poor Stately Homes of today and a good example of a Ha Ha can be a useful asset although there is certainly an increasing need for good safety notices and warnings over the risk of people falling over or down one. 

In my childhood there was a much more relaxed and common sense approach to Health and Safety and so my disturbingly regular accidents were in fact providing a service to prevent those from following in my misfortune. Ha Ha.

The Swamp Monster

The aircraft of the second world war, once numerous, are now somewhat of a rarity, even more so if still capable of being flown. 

Take the B-17 heavy bomber manufactured by Boeing from the mid 1930’s. 

Approaching 13,000 were manufactured of which around 8000 were lost in combat or active service.

As at 2013 only 46 airframes survived in various condition and of these only 11 are airworthy. I have been fortunate to have seen in flight the only UK based airborne machine, the Sally-B which is one of only two European based planes. 

The source of B-17’s for restoration is therefore finite and perhaps the most interesting story relates to aircraft 41-2446 which because of the place of its discovery has the iconic name of “Swamp Ghost”. 

Delivered to the United States Air Force on the day before the attack on Pearl Harbour the B-17- Type E saw action in the Pacific theatre of war, specifically Fiji, Australia and Papua New Guinea. 

The nine crew of Captain Fred Eaton, Co-Pilot Harlow, Bombardier Oliver, Navigator Munroe, Engineer Lemieux, Radioman Sorenson, waist and tail gunners Schwartz, Crawford and Hall were on a mission in February 1942 against Japanese military installations at Rabaul which had been captured in that same year and served as the main base for Imperial forces in the South Pacific. 

Although the B-17 typically had an unladen range of 3200 miles the combination of bomb load, evasive manoeuvres, damage from enemy fire and a second run over the target alerted Eaton to the possibility that they would not be able to make it back after the raid to their base in Queensland or even the nearer Port Moresby with depleted fuel levels. 

The terrain included mountains but also flatland areas of low vegetation further inland. 

Eaton chose to try a controlled, gear down landing on what looked like pasture. It went well and the aircraft came to a halt suffering bent propellors but otherwise no significant trauma . Of the crew, only the navigator sustained an injury, in a cut to the head. 

The resting place was not firm ground but in the Agaimbo Swamp and in five feet of murky water amongst overgrown kunai grass. After destroying the Norden bombsite the crew began their trek back to Allied lines which took, in that inhospitable wilderness and harsh climate, six weeks. 

The B-17 was well and truly rooted in the swamp and although the location was known and indeed, overflown on many subsequent missions by Captain Eaton it was gradually overwhelmed by the rapidly growing vegetation and forgotten. 

It was not rediscovered until 1972 during an exercise by an Australian military helicopter. The plane was remarkably preserved and fully intact including interior equipment, remaining armaments and with minimal corrosion to the airframe. 

It was not until the 1980’s that attempts were made to remove the plane from the swamp although this would take nearly 20 years to do and excited much political controversy. 

In 2007 the Papua New Guinea government claimed that the salvage was illegal on the grounds of the failure of authorities to comply with relevant safeguards of a financial, procedural nature and in the best interests of the nation and interest groups. 

The B-17 was just one of many war wrecks in Papua New Guinea and which served as a major tourist attraction as a means of generating additional income into the local area. In the post war era some 89 aircraft wrecks had been removed illegally in the same way and what was now known as "Swamp Ghost" had attained international status. 

Negotiations saw a deal done involving the donation of a replica fibre glass B-17 to a national museum and the setting up of a Trust Account for landowners of the original site. 

The political and financial aspects of the case had led to the aircraft being embargoed on a quayside for a few years until permission was obtained for export to, initially, California in 2010 before being taken to its current resting place in 2012, in unrestored condition, at the Pacific Aviation Museum at Pearl Harbour, Hawaii. 

Swamp Ghost remains as a shell but a very good one given its age and history and with plans for a restoration project pending.  

The last surviving crew member George Munroe died in January 2010 but at least in the knowledge that his plane was on its way home after 70 years.

The Drain Brain

The Beverley and Barmston land drain was quite a feat of engineering in its construction from 1798 to 1810.

Its importance in the environment remains valid to the present day  Starting at Hempholme Lock close to the village of North Frodingham it makes its way cross country receiving water from some 40 subsidiary drains and protects around 12600 acres of some of the most fertile agricultural land in East Yorkshire. 

Under the supervision of Chief Engineer William Chapman, William Settle the Resident Engineer and Thomas  Dyson the scheme included 23 miles of drainage cuts, 20 miles of embankments, 11 tunnels and 27 bridges. 

After taking a rather anonymous route through a good chunk of North Hull the Beverley and Barmston discharges into the River Hull from a sluice gate not far from the Whalebone Public House. 

Inevitably the drain came into close contact with, in the inter war period, the back gardens of the new Corporation and Privately built residential suburbs of Northern Hull.  It was however in the industrial corridor of Sculcoates that earlier working class housing fronted onto the bank of the watercourse. 

These included terraces with the names of Richmond, Irene, Northumberland, Victoria and Barmston. 

At the best of times the drain was a brackish backwater, a dumping ground for debris and also, for the local population, a major hazard to life from drowning either as a consequence of a tragic accident or an intentional act of despair. 

The pages of the Hull Daily Mail Newspaper carried regular reports of such incidents from the late 1800's which coincided with the growth and establishing of the urban areas close to the course of the drain. There were of course the accompanying investigations and formal Inquests which took up more column inches in the local press. There are no traceable records of fatalities amongst the more dispersed rural population in the upstream waters although undoubtedly there were some. 

Deaths and disappearances were quite common and the total to date is thought to be around 100 persons including a love struck couple on a suicide pact. 

One particularly tragic but all too familiar event was in 1938 and marked the thirteenth drowning over the preceding 4 years. 

The waters of the Barmston Drain, for all of their insanitary condition, had always been a major attraction to local boys as a venue for swimming and larking about. One popular spot was where warm water, a by-product of the Sculcoates Power Station was returned into the drain making for a much more comfortable temperature than could be expected elsewhere. 

In normal times the depth was regularly between 10 and 13 feet. 

My late Father in Law, George was one of these youngsters who diced with the risk of succumbing to the waters or to the subsequent development of diseases from inadvertently ingesting the contaminated water from industry or rodents. 

The Police in 1938 admitted that they had little jurisdiction over boys and young men who just behaved to type and there was discussion in Hull Corporation for the recruitment of a Lifeguard although any costs would have to be met by the Drainage Board and not the Council. 

The unfortunate victim on this occasion was an 8 year old, Richard Thomas Jackson who lived in Ripon Terrace just of Liddell Street.  This was in mid May in the evening and so the artificially warm waters close to the Power Station were the critical element in making bathing possible at that time of the year. 

Young Richard was one of a large group in the Barmston at that time although he was a non-swimmer. 

His pals were sure that he had left and gone home until they later found his clothes on the embankment. Their search led them to recover his body and the authorities were called to take him to the Infirmary. 

There were further tragedies involving young boys and in 1939 at the Inquest of a 7 year old proposals were put forward to make bathing in the drain illegal giving powers to the Police to take all necessary action in what was a scandalous and perilous situation. 

Unfortunately the unnecessary loss of life continued for decades after. In recent years those foolish enough to take a swim have developed Weils Disease or skin rashes. In local folklore and myth there have been reports of a Werewolf-like Beast  preying on domestic pets along the course of the Barmston Drain but with no firm evidence to support this. 

Such has been the misery and tragedy around the unfortunate fatalities in the waters that there must be the presence of trapped and wailing souls. 

What they would make of the discarded bicycle frames and half submerged Asda shopping trolleys is a another matter entirely.

                                 

Bold as Brass

I have gone on in the past about my genetic predisposition for the sound of the bagpipes.

They are not, admittedly, the most tuneful of musical instruments but that undertone of melancholic hum and all of the historical back story for the Scottish peoples gives so much more depth and meaning to what could otherwise be quite a harsh set of notes.

That particular love definitely comes from my Paternal line as my grandparents came from the North and North Western extremities of Caledonia.

I have written a few lines on my attempt, a sorry one at that, to try to learn to play the bagpipes a few years ago now but that is best forgotten and just brought out on the occasion of the need for a humorous, self-deprecating anecdote.

On my Mother’s lineage I had a similar genetic attraction for music and that was for the sonorous tones of a brass band.

This came from my maternal grandfather who was a great bandsman and I naturally followed in his footsteps in joining a well established town band in my early teenage years, from 1976 to 1978.

Although a brass band in the meaning of the word this group of musicians styled themselves as a Silver Band, perhaps a bit of one-upmanship in what was then, and to all intents and purposes remains, a very competitive musical genre.

I cannot actually recall how I came to joint the band although I probably just tagged along with a school friend who was a very proficient player of the Baritone Horn and was very close to being recruited by one of the top regional brass bands which was seen as the pinnacle of anyone’s career in banding. He could list all of the leading national exponents of each of the sections of the band and if there had been equivalent sticker collection for bands as there was for football players he would certainly have had a full album.

In contrast I was a terrible musician devoting the absolute minimum amount of time, or even less, to practice of my cornet beyond the usual music lessons in the school curriculum either on a one to one basis with a tutor or in the larger sessions with the group orchestra which was made up of a number of local schools. Their practice times were usually after school or on a Saturday which were hours that I really wanted to devote to other activities such as watching TV, playing outdoors or just lazing about.

The Silver Band practiced above the old coaching house of a public house, The Dying Gladiator, in the centre of the town where we lived.

I was a bit of a squeaky clean geek and a Sunday school attendee and so the fact that I had to go to a drinking establishment was a bit against my set of principles and beliefs.

That was nothing compared to the smoke filled room itself and the fact that the band members, in particular the heavy Bass section always had a steady supply of pints of beer brought to them during the practice to keep their energy levels up, as they were quick to say.

The band members were the most diverse in terms of social background that I had yet come across in my youthful years and yet united in their dedication to banding. There were gruff old veterans, ambitious middle class types, housewives, a few kids even younger than me who had pushy parents, swotty music students and some groupies who just seemed to attach themselves to the Musical Director, who was an up and coming force in the band scene. The age range across the different cliques  was understandably wide  through to those in their mid to late seventies.

It was a great environment for an extra-curricula education, a warm and friendly atmosphere and I soon came to regard my fellow musicians as a second family.

After a disparate warming up and emptying out of the accumulated bile and spit from instrument valves each practice night started with the tap of the conductor’s baton and a rousing rendition of a well known hymn. It was a beautiful and harmonious sound which really set the mood for what could sometimes be a difficult couple of hours if we were preparing a Test Piece for a regional or even a national contest.

The bringing together of the multitude of instruments from my cornet, all ranges of horns, trombones and percussion to produce a solid melodious sound was like a major feat of engineering. All depended on each other for structure and form.

The actual competitions were usually held in the traditional coal mining areas of the Midlands where banding was strong and vibrant. This was against an increasingly desperate situation with Government and Unions lining up for what would, within a few years, become a very violent and demoralising industrial conflict. Bandsmen, for sure, would be on the front lines of many subsequent confrontations.

I travelled about widely with the band, Nottingham, Leicester, Brodsworth, Doncaster from memory but many other venues as well often getting home in the very early hours of a morning, my clothes infused with the dense and choking cigarette smoke of a Miners Welfare Hall or flecked with cheese and onion crisps from a packed lunch eaten on the bouncy seats of an old bus.

For all of the inspiring surroundings and personalities my own cornet playing skills did not really progress. 

I was perhaps the longest serving occupant of the seat of Third Cornet in the illustrious history of Brigg Town Silver Band that stretched back to the 1920's and until around 2008 when sadly it ceased to exist.  

My lack of application is something  that , upon hearing a brass band playing in full flow today, gives me a sense of regret, but I would not have missed that period in my life for anything.

Meeting the In-Laws

 A Valentines Day piece from 2012

When a relationship gets serious the prospect of meeting folk who look likely to be future in-laws can be quite a milestone and immensely daunting.

My first ever introduction to and meeting with Allison's mother, Maureen was quite unusual.

She was on a plank crossing a deep trench at the back of her house.

It has always been a favourite double-entendre in the family that the first thing that Allison showed me on visiting her parents' home was her Father, George's ,back passage.

It was a narrow, dark, brick vaulted arrangement with lengthy ladders tidily stowed above head height behind secure outer and inner timber doors . What amazed me even more was that it was shared with the immediate neighbours with a reasonable right of way and use through it.

That just about exhausts that line of humour.

Allison led me into the walled yard beyond the passage where I was faced with that deep trench.

Being nervous I speculated to myself that it was perhaps one of a number of things;

1) An obstacle course to assess if I was good material for a son-in-law. A Brown family Krypton
Factor.

2) A precaution against flooding in the pre-Hull Tidal Barrier era.

3) An open grave as Maureen and George were very protective about their daughter.

As I approached Maureen came out from the back door and deftly negotiated the series of plank bridges over the excavations to greet me.

In a complete invasion of personal space and etiquette, for a first ever meeting, she grabbed me firmly by both cheeks (facial) pinching a good deal of puppy fat jowl between thumb and index finger.

I cannot recall if she gave me a kiss because the constriction on my breathing from that particular welcome was making me feel a bit dizzy. I feared that this was the first stage of getting me into that large hole in the ground.

As my facial muscles regained their handsome, youthful composure Maureen looked at Allison and exclaimed that I looked just like Howard Keel.

For a brief moment I had a picture in my mind's eye of the giant steel toothed assassin out of the Bond movies and felt that was a bit rude to draw attention to matters of an unfortunate bodily nature so early in the proceedings.

The resemblance was because I was wearing a checked lumberjack shirt like one of the male cast of 'Seven Brides for Seven Brothers' which it turned out was one of Maureen's favourite musicals and incidentally one of the best performances of that particular American actor and singer.

I was a little bit disappointed as I fancied myself as having a resemblance to Robin Williams or Harry Enfield.

Thank goodness, Maureen was talking more about my clothes rather than my physical attributes as in that particular year Mr Keel would be approaching 70 years old.

I think that we were both pretty nervous at the first meeting but we did hit it off immediately as though we had known each other for many years.

Maureen explained that the trench was part of the foundations for her new kitchen and bathroom extension which I found reassuring, after my initial mental wanderings ,and could relax.

Within a couple of minutes I had been assimilated into the family marking the ceremony with a lovely cup of tea, the very first one in a series of, to date, many thousands.

I had also experienced my very first moment of genuine warmth and unconditional love from Maureen that is very much a part of her whole being and is so cherished by those who are privileged to know her.

A few years later, as part of his Bride's Dad speech George, a quiet, reserved type, did say that he liked me............and Allison, which was a very good foundation for our married years together.

Boiling Rhubarb

 I'm having another retrospective on my historic writings and this is a particular favourite from. crikey....hard to believe but 11 years ago.

Pretty much a coincidence but my 21st February 2013 blog was about the edible plant Rhubarb and on the very same day the creator and animator Bob Godfrey died. His best known character was Roobarb, a scatty, mischievous, enthusiastic and loveable, bright green coloured dog.

Ask anyone of current age 45 to 55 about this cartoon series and chances are they could give a rendition of the distinctive, mad theme tune with no great difficulty. "Diddle ee-dee , diddle ee-dee, diddle e-diddle e-dee........and repeat"

I found it greatly surprising that only 30 episodes of the original series were ever made and yet for five minutes, just before the 6 O'clock News and my childhood teatimes from 1974 they became a permanent fixture.

I can appreciate my Mother's frustration at preparing a filling and nutritious meal only for it to get cold at an empty table as me and my siblings enjoyed the antics of Roobarb and his sidekick, Custard the pink cat.

The cat was the complete opposite of Roobarb, smarmy, cynical and calculating against the chaos, frenetic actions and lunacy that was the life of the dog.

The series was also narrated by Richard Briers who, only 3 days prior to the news of Bob Godfrey's demise, had himself died. I can see a great upsurge in demand for counselling and psychiatric services for those in my age group at this catastrophic double tragedy, the loss of stability and permanence in our memories.

What was so compelling about the cartoon?

At a time of smooth, sophisticated productions by the large American studios at Disney and Hanna Barbera, often beautifully drawn and sometimes 20 to 30 minutes long, Roobarb was crude and rudimentary. The animated frames were hand drawn in felt tip pen, or so it seemed, and the style was jumpy and erratic and as far detached as possible from the US offerings such as Scooby Doo Where are You?, Hong Kong Phooey and of course Tom and Jerry.

The style of animation was called 'boiling' and apt for the turmoil and energy that it portrayed from the two main characters as well as an amusing collection of ragged and disjointed birds always not too far away from the action.

The theme music and incidental soundtrack for Roobarb were distinctive and also rough and ready.

Richard Briers offered a well known reassuring vocal to a young audience with precise delivery of the offbeat humour in the script. The titles for the episodes captured the interest of  potentially distracted, low blood sugar and ultimately hungry viewers immediately in that pre-teatime slot that had also featured, in the 1970's, The Herbs, Hectors House, Captain Pugwash and The Clangers. These animated shows were a difficult act to follow but Roobarb coped well.

Three particularly memorable episode titles and storylines were "When Roobarb didn't see the sun come up", when Roobarb tried "to find the source of the pond" and when, in his pirate outfit he discovered "when there wasn't treasure".

Even in my 56th year I can recall a great line of Roobarb's in script which went along the lines of "sound travels further at night....because it is cheaper".

The series soon attained cult status and the fondness in which it is remembered has been perpetuated in modern culture. The lead characters are mentioned in song lyrics, the theme tune has been sampled in pop songs and comedy broadcasts, a second series was produced in 2005 and there has been a recent resurgence in marketing rights spawning books of the TV series and an interactive web-site.

As with most attempts by cold and heartless commercial merchandising companies to exploit nostalgia and to relieve my age group of their hard earned cash through childhood memories I do not feel obliged to participate.

The 1974 originals were of a specific genre and style and at a time in our own lives that gave them that special quality and timelessness. A bit like the baked beans, tinned macaroni cheese, dippy eggs and soldiers, spaghetti hoops and fish fingers that followed the 5 minute shows around a happy and entertained family group.

This classic status of the animated series can be appreciated even today in overheated arguments in pubs, wine bars and bistros between 50 somethings who stand by differing  views over whether the series was called just "Roobarb" or the popular misconception that it was "Roobarb and Custard". The poor misguided fools.

Brassy Lancashire Lad

An older piece of writing on an enigmatic and perhaps reluctant Pop Star in the 1970's. 

Sometimes a song really makes an immediate and lasting impression.

In the case of the 1972 chart single “You’re a Lady” by the singer, songwriter Peter Skellern I found a sort of inner peace which for a lad of 9 years old as I was at the time was something truly special and endearing. 

Even at the time of its release in the UK it was regarded as retro and when pitted against the rest of that year’s summer crop of singles many would not have given it a chance of doing anything. 

There was strong competition from the Glam Rockers of T Rex, The Sweet and Slade. Shiny toothed, cutesy and clean living performers such as Donny Osmond ,David Cassidy and The Carpenters were part of an American invasion of ballads and pop tunes not to mention the superstars of that decade in Bowie, Simon and Garfunkel, Alice Cooper, Bread and the perennial Elvis Presley. 

Skellern had composed a song for piano which could be regarded as being well off trend although not unlike another Brit in the charts, Gilbert O’Sullivan who had by that time enjoyed a lot of success including a Stateside chart topper with “Alone again, naturally”. 

What made Skellern’s composition quite unique was the accompaniment by a brass band, the revered but now discontinued Hanwell Band with the outcome being a poignant melody and wistful tone that really caught the attention of the record buying public. 

To me it was an indication of the mainstream acceptance of two forms of music that I had grown up with. 

Our Mother was, in her teenage years, a highly trained and gifted pianist, perhaps destined for stage and studio had it not been for family commitments and supporting the career of our Father in High Street banking. 

The piano was the centre of the house being used to teach a few private students, well mostly the children of friends and neighbours as well as hosting many a singalong at family gatherings although it was not at all necessary to have a special occasion to gather around and let rip.

I regret not having the patience, temperament or aptitude to have learned that instrument apart from a one finger rendition of “God Save The Queen” and “What shall we do with a drunken sailor?”. 

The upright model remains in daily use by Mother and it has done well to survive many years of disrespectful misuse by me and my siblings. We climbed on it, regularly spilt our drinks into it, scratched and knocked it and even caught mice in it. 

I was not to inherit our Mother's piano playing gene but did take up the Cornet and performed for many years on the back row of out towns’ third division championship Brass Band. This was by way of homage to my maternal Grandfather who was a great Bandsman in his lifetime. 

“You’re a Lady” made it to number 3 in the UK charts in October 1972 being prevented from reaching top spot by Lieutenant Pigeon’s “Mouldy old dough” and “How can I be sure” by David Cassidy. 

In that year it was the 54^th best performing single from 11 weeks on the chart. 

Skellern had another top twenty listing in 1975 with “Hold on to Love”. 

His songwriting never got the attention or accolades that it merited even though he released 15 albums up until 1996. It was in different writing and performance directions that he built up a loyal following. Clever lyrics on topical subjects saw him featuring on the BBC Radio 4 “Stop the Week” show and in 1982 he was on the billing at the Royal Variety Performance. In that same year he co wrote with Vangelis “One more kiss dear” which was part of the soundtrack of the cult sci fi movie Blade Runner. 

1984 saw Skellern form “Oasis”, a supergroup including Mary Hopkin and Julian Lloyd Webber and although recording an album the illustrious members did not tour and soon disbanded. 

In 1985 he teamed up with the satirist and comedian Richard Stilgoe as a double act and toured extensively with a two man stage show of songs and the written word. 

His concert pianist training from Guildhall School of Music and Drama was the grounding for his distinctive songs and lyrical observations which also included church music. 

Diagnosed with an incurable brain tumour Peter Skellern became an ordained priest in the Church of England in 2016 and sadly died in February 2017. 

His has been a remarkable story. 

I cannot help but get quite emotional when listening to the beautiful 1972 song. It is an absolute classic.

See what you think.......................................................

Peter Skellern "You're a Lady" 1972

The Cruel Sea

 In November 2017 I went to a performance, as part of the Hull City of Culture Events, of "The Last Testament of Lillian Bilocca" by Maxine Peake, a truly emotional and inspirational rendition of the story of the extraordinary band of Headscarf Revolutionaries who took it upon themselves to campaign for the safety and working conditions of deep sea trawlermen. 

Here is a condensed version of the 1968 Government Enquiry, the legacy of those brave women.

As a result of the tragic loss of deep sea trawlers and their crews, brought into sharp focus by the loss of three Hull based trawlers, St Romanus, Kingston Peridot and Ross Cleveland all within just 36 days with the loss of 58 Lives in 1968,  the President of the Board of Trade appointed a Committee to examine the major factors affecting their safety and to make recommendations.

The inquiry revealed that the standardised mortality ratio of fishermen for accidents at work for the years 1959-63 was 1726, seventeen times that for the male population as a whole.

In the age-group 15-44 a fisherman is twenty times more likely to die as a result of an accident at work than all men in other occupations.

The most common cause of death was by losses overboard and deckmen were specially at risk. Deaths were more common on distant water trawlers than others, probably because they operated in more dangerous waters.

Accidents and fatalities on stern trawlers were less common than on side trawlers.

It was not just the perils of the occupation in distant waters that exposed fishermen to such life threatening and life changing risks.

Fishermen had a high mortality from cancer of the lung and stomach, hypertension and bronchitis, and suffered unduly from peptic ulcer and other gastrointestinal illnesses.

Skin disease was about twice as common among fishermen as among all men in the general population and included especially sea water boils and folliculitis, the latter from exposure to chemicals, oils and such things as coal tar.

The Committee recommend the continued operation of a support ship including medical staff off the main fishing grounds of Iceland and it would be an advantage if support ships could be organised on an international basis. 

The Committee noted the poor recording of accidents and recommended that comprehensive and detailed statistics should be sought if accidents were to be prevented and progress in improving standards was to be measured.

With regard to measures to improve the personal safety of deckmen, the main risk occupation on board a trawling operation ,the Committee suggest an investigation of "the ergonomics of human locomotion in an oscillatory and slippery environment". Research should be undertaken with the object of designing a safer layout for the cables that ran out the nets on deck and on the guarding of warps running near working areas. The layout should ensure that men and warps were kept apart. Also recommended were a safer design of towing block, preferably an automatic one, and improvements to the operation and guarding of otter boards (used to spread out the net) and the winch. 

The Board of Trade was to seek powers to lay down statutory requirements on the design, testing and periodic inspection of trawler equipment and gear. 

Research should continue in the effort to produce new and improved working clothing and the Committee recommended that owners should meet the cost and ensure that it was worn. Survival clothing should be supplied in life rafts and crew members should have warm clothing available at all times. 

The Committee were convinced by their own observations, supported by medical experts, and by what was heard from ordinary crew members, that fatigue was a major factor affecting the accident rate on deep sea trawlers. It was recommended, therefore, that the Government should seek powers to lay down statutory requirements that the crew of distant water trawlers receive minimum continuous rest periods on the fishing grounds of at least 6 hours, followed by periods of duty of not more than twice the rest period, and, except in emergency, of not more than 16 hours.

For the crews of near and middle water trawlers there should be at least 6 hours' continuous rest every 24 hours on the fishing grounds. For boys under the age of 17 years, referred to as Deckie-Learners , minimum rest periods of 12 hours per day were recommended.

A minimum of 84 hours' shore leave between voyages was recommended for distant water trawlers and 60 hours for near and middle water trawlers who spent 10 days or more at sea. This gave rise to the name given to trawler crews on their days back on shore as the “Three Day Millionnaires”.

Although the Committee doubted that the common method of payment based on volumes of catch had a major direct effect on fatigue and accident rates at sea, it was suggested that it may have had undesirable effects. It was recommended, therefore, that the present importance of poundage payments was progressively reduced, particularly in the distant water fleet.  Many groups of ship owners ran annual competitions for best performing trawler Skipper such as the Silver Cod amongst the Hull fleet which was prestigious in reputation and cash reward. Many rules and practices designed to safeguard crews would be overlooked in the pursuit for the ultimate accolade of best trawler.

Other recommendations on safety include advice on radio-communications, search and rescue, the design and construction of trawlers, training, management and industrial relations. 

An occupational health service for fishermen would reduce the number of men who were taken ill at sea and have to be landed at ports abroad for medical treatment. There would also be savings in the costs of medical treatment of trawlermen landed abroad. It was recommended that medical services to trawlermen should be extended to all ports and should be increased in scope. 

New entrants to the industry and all men who had been off work owing to sickness or injury should be examined before they were allowed to go to sea. There should be regular examination of older men. The examinations should be thorough and should at least include chest X-ray and an electrocardiograph examination.

There should be full-time medical officers at the larger ports. 

Finally, the Committee recommend the representation of both sides of the industry on joint safety committees in the main ports, and the setting up of a National Trawler Health and Safety Committee was suggested to advise Government departments and the industry on the major factors affecting health and safety in the deep sea fishing fleet. 

The implementation of these measures will have saved countless fishermen from an unnecessary death or injury and ensured that for the few remaining years of deep sea trawling as a viable industry the hard working crews would be able to return to Port and their loved ones.

(Source; HM Government.1968 Enquiry. Record Number : 19702700905Publisher : London: H.M. Stationery Office)

Old Slang Signs

  It is the celebration of the Scottish poet, Robert Burns this week, 25th January 2024 and so to get us all in the spirit of the event here are a few olde worlde Scottish sayings and words and other more modern ones...

• I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug! – I’ll give you a slap on the ear.
• Whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye! – What’s meant to happen will happen.
• Skinny Malinky Longlegs! – A tall thin person.
• Lang may yer lum reek! – May you live long and stay well.
• Speak o’ the Devil! – Usually said when you have been talking about someone – they usually appear.
• Black as the Earl of Hell’s Waistcoat! – Pitch black.
• Failing means yer playin! – When you fail at something at least you’re trying.
• Mony a mickle maks a muckle! – Saving a small amount soon builds up to a large amount.
• Keep the heid! – Stay calm, don’t get upset.
• We’re a’ Jock Tamson’s bairns! – We’re all God’s children, nobody is better than anybody else – we’re all equal.
• Dinnae teach yer Granny tae suck eggs! – Don’t try to teach someone something they already know.
• Dinnae marry fur money! – Don’t marry for money – you can borrow it cheaper.
• Is the cat deid? – Has the cat died? Means your trousers are a bit short – like a flag flying at half mast.
• Haud yer wheesht! – Be quiet.
• Noo jist haud on! – Now just hold it, slow down, take your time.
• Hell slap it intae ye! – Means it’s your own fault.
• I’m fair puckled! – I’m short of breath.
• Do yer dinger. – Loudly express disapproval.
• Gie it laldy. – Do something with gusto.
• Ah dinnae ken. – I don’t know.
• Haste Ye Back! – Farewell saying meaning “return soon”.
• It’s a dreich day! – Said in reference to the weather, when it’s cold, damp and miserable.

Some Scottish sayings that are not so old ……

• Gonnae no’ dae that! – Going to not do that.
• Pure dead brilliant – Exceptionally good.
• Yer bum’s oot the windae – You’re talking rubbish.
• Am pure done in – I’m feeling very tired.
• Am a pure nick – I don’t look very presentable.
• Ah umnae – I am not.
• Ma heid’s mince – My head’s a bit mixed up.
• Yer oot yer face! – You’re very drunk.
• Yer aff yer heid – You’re off your head – a little bit daft.

And some Scottish slang words ……

• Aboot – About
• Ain – Own
• Auld – Old
• Aye – Yes
• Bahooky – Backside, bum
• Bairn – Baby
• Bampot- Idiot
• Barry- splendid
• Baw – Ball
• Bawface – Describes someone with a big round face.
• Ben – Mountain, or through
• Bevvy-drink
• Bide – Depending on the context, means wait, or stay.
• Blether – Talkative, when referred to a person. To “have a blether” is to have a chat.
• Blutered- very drunk
• Boggin-filthy or disgusting
• Bonnie – Beautiful
• Bowfing – Smelly, horrible
• Braw – Good, or brilliant
• Breeks – Trousers
• Coo – Cow
• Clorty- Filthy
• Crabbit – Bad tempered
• Cry – Call, as in what do you call him?
• Dae – Do
• Dauner – Walk – “I’m away for a dauner”
• Didnae – Didn’t
• Dinnae – Don’t
• Dour- glum
• Drap – Drop
• Dreep – Drip
• Drookit – Soaking wet
• Druth- thirsty
• Dug – Dog
• Dunderheid, Eejit, Galoot, Numptie – All mean idiot
• Dunt – Bump
• Eedjit- idiot
• Feart – Afraid
• Fusty- mouldy
• Frae – From
• Galoot- idiot
• Gallus – Bravado, over-confident
• Gang – Go
• Gaunnae – Going to
• Geggie – Mouth, as in “shut your geggie”
• Glaikit – Stupid, slow on the uptake
• Goonie – Nightgown
• Greet – Cry
• Gubbed - Badly
• Gumption – Common sense, initiative
• Gurne- Sulk
• Guttered- Drunk
• Gutties - Plimsolls
• Hae – Have
• Hame – Home
• Hammered- Drunk
• Haud – Hold
• Haver – Talk rubbish
• Hing – Hang
• Hoachin’ – Very busy
• Hokin’ – Rummaging
• Honkin’, Hummin’, Howlin’ – Bad smell
• Hoose – House
• Houghin - Revolting
• Hunner – Hundred
• Hurkle Durkle - messing about
• Huvnae – Haven’t
• Invershnecky- Inverness
• Jobbie - going for shit
• Keech - bird poo
• Keek – A little look
• Ken – Know
• Lum – Chimney
• Mair – More
• Mannie - little man
• Manky - Filthy
• Merrit – Married
• Messages - groceries
• Mockit, Mingin’, Boggin’ – All mean dirty
• Moose – Mouse
• Naw – No
• Neep, Tumshie – Turnip
• Noo – Now
• Numpty - idiot
• Oot – Out
• Peely Wally – Pale
• Piece – A sandwich
• Poke – (to poke – to prod) (a poke – a paper bag)
• Pus - Mouth
• Radgees - Crazy young lads
• Reek – Smell, emit smoke
• Riddy – A red face, embarrassed
• Scran - Food
• Screwball – Unhinged, mad
• Scullery – Kitchen
• Scunnered – Bored, fed up
• Shoogle – Shake
• Shoogly – Shaky, wobbly
• Shuftie - take a look
• Shunky - Toilet
• Simmet – Gents singlet
• Skelp – Slap
• Skoosh – Lemonade (or fizzy drink)
• Skrechin- shriek
• Sleekit – Sly
• Stookie – Plaster cast (for a broken bone)
• Stour – Dust
• Swally - drunk
• Tartle - panic when forgetting someones name
• Tattie – Potato
• Tattyboggler - Scarecrow
• Telt – Told
• Teuchtar - someone for far north west Scotland
• Thon – That
• Wean – Child
• Weegie- Glasgow person
• Wellies – Wellington boots
• Wheest - be quiet
• Whit – What
• Willnae – Will not
• Widnae – Would not
• Windae – Window
• Wummin – Women
• Ye – You
• Yer – Your
• Yin – One