Wednesday, July 01, 2009

A Selection of Fieldnames from Thornton: Part One

Melanie from the ‘Thornton Through Time’ website (otherwise known to our forum readers as ‘History Hunter’) has been busy recently. She’s the best researcher Wyre Archaeology doesn’t have. One of these days we’re going to convince her to sign up proper. (I’m extemporising again, aren’t I? Best get on before everyone disappears to You Tube in search of Susan Boyle.)
Melanie, as I was saying, during one of her rainy afternoon trawls through the various Lancashire record repositories came across the following item and kindly sent me a copy. What is it? It’s a tithe map of Bourne, Holmes and Trunnah, that’s what, with some interesting fieldnames on it. If you’re wondering why it resembles a patchwork eiderdown, Melanie photographed it in sections and I’ve done my best to reassemble it.


Writing too small? Well, just be patient and we’ll enlarge some of the individual sections for you. In the meantime, just so that you can gather your bearings, that’s Marsh Mill right at the bottom there, and that wriggly field boundary towards the top left corner is part of the dyke following the defensive embankments round the bottom of Bourne Hill. (Unfortunately Bourne Hill itself isn’t on the map, which is a shame because we still don’t know what the hill’s actual name is. We’ve always called it Bourne Hill because that basically describes it, although our name seems to have resonated with people and even the great and the good are calling the place Bourne Hill nowadays.)
Right, it’s time for some of those fieldnames, so here’s a detail of the aforementioned tithe map (the copyright owner, of which, we’ve lost track of, so apologies if we’re unintentionally treading on anybody’s toes here).


The road running from just below the top left corner to about two thirds of the way along the bottom edge is Fleetwood Road, Fleetwood itself being somewhere off the left hand side of the map, Thornton being somewhere off the right. (If you’re one of our Australian or American readers this probably doesn’t make a lot of sense. Then again, I suspect, very little of what appears on this board makes much sense to anybody, anywhere, anyhow, so welcome to the club.)
The Old Earth fields (you can hunt these down for yourself on the map if you like…it’s cheaper than buying a Word Search magazine) are mentioned in various old documents as being the outskirts of the Saxon Township of Brun. We’ll come back to them shortly.
The Stanny Furlong fields are the intriguing bit. (At least they are as far as I’m concerned.) Stanny derives from the Saxon word ‘Stanig’ meaning ‘stony’, indicating presumably that, back in Saxon times, our Stanny Furlong fields were full of stones. (It should be remembered that, even though these tithe maps were drawn up in the mid-nineteenth century, the names recorded on them often reach back hundreds, if not thousands, of years.) ‘Stony’ fields are, more often than not, the result of ancient cobbled roads lying beneath the soil. Was this the original route of the Danes Pad, perhaps?
Well, no, probably not. As far as we can tell (and there’s bound to be some debate about this, so I hesitate to mention it) the Danes Pad never actually reached the Fleetwood Peninsula, crossing the River Wyre somewhere around Skippool and then continuing on the other side towards Preesall Hill along Highgate Lane (where, of course, we dug up a section of it last summer).
No…the Stanny Furlong fields are far more likely to have contained our Celtic track running from Nateby, via Stanah, up through Thornton and to the base of Bourne Hill. We know that the track exists on the hill itself (because we’ve dug it up) and (on the other side of Thornton) it emerges from beneath the housing estate on Stanah Road, but we lose it completely under the sprawl of Thornton itself. Unfortunately, over the last couple of centuries most of the fields on our tithe map have been ‘developed’ so, whatever the case, the enigma of the Stanny Furlong fields will have to remain just that.
Take a look at this:


That’s the same section of map we showed you a moment ago with a couple of areas highlighted. Note the shape of the fields we’ve coloured in, paying close attention to the central road (now hidden by houses) dividing them. That’s typical of Saxon villages, that is, in this case the Saxon village of Bourne (or Brun as it was known in those days).
Those strip fields were called ‘tenement strips’, each one originally containing its own dwelling place. They were basically the Dark Age equivalent of market gardens, each householder working the strip of land to the rear of his/her property.
The fields highlighted in yellow are still there, (at least they are at the time of writing) separated from one another by typical Saxon ditches. Want a photograph? Go on then, you’ve twisted my arm.


That’s the rear of Springfield Drive in the background. Our missing Saxon village road (as shown on the map) is probably somewhere beneath the grass running around the back garden fences.
We’ve got more to say about this lot, but no doubt our reader would welcome a short break before we trouble him/her further.
Before we leave, however, one last fieldname (or set of fieldnames) worth a mention is (or possibly are) Arley. Arley still exists as a location, of course, Great Arley School (where as kids we used to go swimming) occupying the area nowadays. We were curious as to what Arley meant and, as far as we can tell (although Wyre Archaeology’s expert in ancient languages, Dave Hampson, might have a few thoughts of his own to add to this conjecture) it stems from the Saxon root word ‘Arleas’, meaning ‘dishonourable or wicked’.
Having said that, it’s equally likely to stem from the other Saxon root word ‘Arlic’, meaning just plain ‘honourable’.
At the risk of insulting everybody who lives in Arley (both of them) I’d like to think it was the former.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Another Selection of Historical Titbits

Number Six: The Pirate of St Chad’s

In St Chad’s churchyard, in Poulton of course, (just behind the apse if memory serves) can be found one of the Wyre’s most enduring – if not highly inaccurate – oddities, that being the grave of a pirate as shown in the photograph below.


Generations of school kids (myself included) have re-enacted over the centuries the ritual of standing on the grave itself, reciting the lord’s prayer backwards and then depositing the contents of our noses on the stone slab (actually the legend suggests that you’re only meant to spit, but as children we were very thorough) in the hopes that the ghost of the evil pirate would rise from its resting place and reek havoc in the town.
We can state from personal experience that the ritual doesn’t work.

And it’s hardly surprising really given that the grave actually belonged to Edward Sherdley (gentleman) who died in 1711 and probably never got any closer to the sea during his life than with a bucket and spade at Rossall. The confusion arose amongst Poulton’s youthful inhabitants, of course, because of the skull and cross-bones motif carved into the stone, resembling (as testified by certain old films featuring Douglas Fairbanks Jr) the Jolly Roger flown by desperados on the high seas.
The skull and crossbones themselves were probably a Masonic symbol, which just goes to show that whilst being a mason might pay nepotistic dividends in life, in death it just results in kids covering your grave in phlegm.

Number Seven: Woodplumpton Stocks


Outside St. Anne’s church in Woodplumpton -- an extremely ancient church in its own right, but more about that on another occasion -- next to the lychgate stand the old village stocks. The right hand stone-support is carved with the initials ‘AB’ and the date ‘73’. We can take it as read that, as old as the church might be, it’s not that old and the century to which that date belongs was left off for reasons of spatial economy. The nearby wicket-gate has similarly carved posts, suggesting that they were carved at around the same time.

Behind the stocks, as can be seen in the photograph, are a step of mounting steps. In case you’re wondering these were used to clamber on and off horses (as explained a few weeks ago in our posting about the mounting steps attached to the cottage on Raikes Road in Stanah) and not for the locals to take a flying leap onto the heads of the prisoners incarcerated below.

Poulton, Kirkham and Garstang also had their own stocks. In Garstang’s case they were designed, like Woodplumpton’s, so that two criminals could sit side by side, with the added advantage that they were portable. Originally they would have been clamped onto the market cobbles as and when required. Unfortunately, as far as historical preservation is concerned, when not in use they were kept in the town hall attic. In 1939, wouldn’t you know it, the town hall roof caught fire quite spectacularly.
What became of the stocks we honestly couldn’t say, but their chances of having survived are slim.


Number Eight: Grizedale Beck Reservoir

Grizedale Beck Reservoir was created between 1861 and 1863 when the beck itself was damned. In the process an entire unexcavated Neolithic settlement site was destroyed by the ensuing flood, only the tallest spire of the central obelisk of the now drowned Grizedale Henge still being visible at the height of summer, when strange incantations in Ogham are said to be heard on midsummer’s eve.



All right, that last bit isn’t true. The facts about when the reservoir was first damned are accurate enough, we think, the stuff about the settlement isn’t. We just wanted to see if we could get our reader bobbing in frustration that’s all. To the best of our knowledge there were no archaeological sites lost when the reservoir was created, although we did pick up the following information off some site or other on the Internet:

Grizedale is Norse for the valley of the wild pigs. The valley contains many birch and oak trees and gives an indication of what the whole valley might have been like in more ancient times."

Friday, June 26, 2009

I might be gone some time...

Following a slight altercation with British Telecom the other night concerning an allegedly outstanding bill, a mouthy salesperson and some brain-dead billing assistant who didn't appear to understand a single word I was saying/shouting loudly at her down the phone to India -- possibly she just didn't want to understand, it was hard to tell -- my contract with said telecommunication's company has now been terminated, effective of about halfway through next week. (I'm not paying those theiving squitter-munchers sixty-five quid a month for a service that involves an e-mail server that crashes ever ten minutes!)

As a result, I might be off-line for a bit...at least until I've decided which route to travel next along the information super highway (it'll be the hard shoulder at this rate), purchased all the relevent equipment and set it up...oh yes...and bought a couple of mobile phones as well. I refuse to have an ordinary phone in my house from this week forward, seeing as BT own the monopoly on all the landlines in Britain. Good old Thatcher -- her legacy of greed and the faceless anihilation of socialist enterprise lives on, even if her feeble, withered, evil old mind doesn't.

To cut a long story short, I've set this board onto auto-scheduling for a couple of months, just in case my departure turns out to be longer than originally planned. After next Wednesday's posting, the Fylde and Wyre Antiquarian will update itself every Sunday (I think...correction, I hope), just don't expect too many of the usual drunken, unamusing replies in the comments boxes until I'm back.

Hopefully that won't be too long. See y'all on the flip side. If I'm not back by Christmas I'll probably have emigrated to Finland.

Brian (Hughes, that is -- beleagured campaigner against self-centred idiots in almost every walk of life)