Book Review - Merlin and Wales- A Magician's Landscape - Michael Dames

I have wasted good money on this book. It was well reduced, but I am mortified to have just discovered I could have just wasted £2.76 on it if I'd brought it for a penny on Amazon (plus P&P). I won't beat about the bush. It is published by Thames & Hudson too, whose readers would, I have thought, critiqued the book sufficiently that it didn't get published. The prime thing I learned when I was taking my archaeology degree was to research and write what that research PROVED. You could not go off into the realms of fairydom, and sadly, that is what the author has done. I could be really bitchy and say, well what do you expect of a lecturer at a Polytechnic, but I won't . . .

The illustrations are good. I bought this book because there was a good chunk about Merlin and Carmarthen(shire). Parts of it are sensible reporting; parts a tiny bit fanciful, then there are bits which made me want to throw the book on the fire! Of Merlin's Oak, which once stood at the entrance to Old Oak Lane but now a roundabout fills the spot:

"At the road junction where the tree once stood there is neither seed nor leaf, nor splinter of wood. Instead, over the exact spot where the tree had flourished and died, lies a white-painted disc, two paces in diameter. It is a miniature traffic island, whipped (or decorated) by black skid-marks of circulating cars and trucks. It is a moon, the dead moon, totally eclipsing Merlin's sunlit limbs and torso, his eyes, warmth, mind, his everything. At last, at the eastern sunrise gate he is surely dead and buried under this lunar-lidded sarcophagus. Converted to a mere number, he is subsumed into the 1978 road accident fatalities."

What a load of absolute meaningless drivel. There was an oak tree here, called Merlin's Oak, but it dated from the time of Charles II, when a local schoolmaster apparently planted it to celebrate him being proclaimed King. (Carmarthen stood for the Royalists).

Later in the book is an illustration of stars of the northern hemisphere. It is accompanied by the following:

"Stars of the northern hemisphere, the Bardsey Glass House, Ty Gwydr. Here, Merlin's many lives and deaths are healed in its universal bloodstream. His white blood cells become synonymous with the stars that move across Ty Gwydr's vault."

This pretty well sums up the calibre of writing throughout the book. Had I not got distracted by finding a Fred Hargeneder book about trees for my husband, I might have looked at it properly and left it in the shop! Oh dear. One for the Car Boot Sale methinks . . .

Oh, and this chap has written several other books to avoid too, reviewed by others as in the realms of fantasy . . . So if you see his books about Avebury, Silbury Hill, and Mythic Ireland - just walk right past. How NOT to write a book - to have a belief and then make all the "evidence" fit that theory . . .

Dorset Buttons

I was tidying up this week and in my craft cupboard I came across a little pack of Dorset Buttons to make up, so I will sit down with them tonight and put some pictures up when I've made some. This was a post from the end of March last year, and it was one of the posts which seemed to attract a lot of visitors, so hopefully it will again. I love the photo beneath and will try and make some colourful buttons like these.




When we used to live in Dorset, there was a little shop in a neighbouring village which sold collectables and nick-nacks and if my memory serves me well, it was called the Dorset Button Shop. This was in Lytchett Minster, where the bountiful Lady Lees attempted to revive "buttony" but it collapsed with the advent of the First World War. I believe it had once been the cottage where these later Dorset Buttons were sold. At one time, many cottage dwellers across Dorset made Dorset Buttons when the trade was flourishing. I have made them myself using small brass rings - a friend sent me a little kit one Christmas. Using embroidery floss, you use a basic buttonhole stitch around the ring, and then make "spokes" across the centre of the ring which you also embellish with an alternative colour. I think it was the Blandford Cartwheel design I made.

Button making was truly a cottage industry, and it flourished throughout the county in the 17th and 18th centuries. Originally sheep's horn (Dorset Down of course!) was used at the basis for the button, and was covered with cloth which was then embroidered and was a conical shape upon completion. These were known as "High Tops" in the industry. The diameter of the buttons varied greatly - from 1/2" down to an amazingly small eighth of an inch. With the poor lighting in most cottages, especially in the evenings and winter months, this must have been very bad for eyesight. Metal rings were then introduced, being cheaper than the horn base for the buttons. The industry was originally centred on Shaftesbury, in the north of the county, but then moved south to Blandford. An enterprising shop-owner (a Mr Fisher) opened a Button Depot at his draper's shop in the Market Place and workers sent (or took if they lived close enough to walk) their wares to this shop to be sold on.

Cloth-covered buttons sold from as little as 8d a dozen, up to three shillings. The women making them could earn up to two shillings a day for making 6 or 7 dozen buttons, and this was wealth indeed when the average farm worker's wage was 9d a day. This industry enabled widows to support themselves once the main breadwinner had died, and married women were able to stay in the home to care for young children whilst still earning a very good wage.

The best quality buttons (for export) were mounted on pink paper; 2nds on navy blue paper and 3rd class buttons on yellow paper.

This cottage industry ended after the Great Exhibition of 1851, when Mr John Ashton displayed a button making machine. It spelt the end of the Dorset Button Making industry almost overnight, as buttons could be made at a fraction of the cost. Starvation stared families in the face. The elderly and widowed ended up in the workhouse. Those who were able, fled to the colonies. 350 families from the Shaftesbury area alone emigrated, at the expense of the Government.

Many thanks for these two links for the history of the Dorset Button:

http://www.mandacrafts.co.uk/Dorset%20Button%20History.pdf
http://www.thedorsetpage.com/history/Button_Making/button_making.htm

And here's a "How To" page with photographs.

http://www.britishbuttonsociety.org/20070401DorsetButtons.htm

Here's a link for booklets and kits :

http://www.s105325101.websitehome.co.uk/

Walking in the rain

I foolishly delayed not having a walk first thing, when it was only drizzling lightly, and by the time I was ready to go out, it was raining steadily, but I went all the same and was out for about an hour. Once you are wet, you don't really get much wetter and it was only the bottom half of my trousers and the front of my sweatshirt under my jacket which got wet through. The river had dropped a couple of feet from how it was on Monday, after 24 hours' rain, but was rising again. I walked towards Ty Coch, which is a route I haven't been on for ages. I need to do a longer walk this weekend and will probably head the same way and then along the bridleway, though it will be very wet and muddy underfoot. I know this is the middle of winter, but on a sheltered bank under a hedge amongst the tendrils of ivy, were the tiny seedlings of Goosegrass, identifiable by their - tiny - rosette of leaves. The Great Tits were singing to each other too - a rather piercing note of "Zee-de" which makes me think they are looking forward to winter's back being broken as well. Always the optimist, me!

I have been spending some time exploring the 1911 census this week, which I was surprised to hear had come on-line a couple of years early - though I'm not complaining! I have found that my g. grandparents adopted a lad when they were 50 (g. grandad) and 60 (g. grandma) years old. I can only assume he may have been the bastard son of one of their children - but now it occurs to me it could have been g. grandad's, particularly as his wife was 10 years older than him. My aunties know nothing about Harry Gregory, however. I would like to look up who lived here in our house - though I know it is one of two families from burials in the graveyard. Fortunately in Wales they always add the name of the house of the deceased, which is wonderful for family historians. However, most of Wales is not catalogued yet and a good few other counties besides I don't doubt.

This stunning tree is a Horse Chestnut which is covered in "candles" of flower in the spring.

I couldn't resist taking a photo of these hedgerow trees - they looked so majestic against the grey winter sky.

The camera carefully picked up the little bit of colour from the mosses and the dead Beech leaves along the riverbank.

The water level was rising again, and getting very choppy over the boulders.

Further upstream, even the larger boulders were being covered over and the pools have been long liberated from their ice-fastness of last week.

My first two blocks for the Lluest Horse and Pony Trust charity raffle quilt have been completed now and one of the ladies at Creative Living forum has already made three more lovely designs. I bought some fresh fat quarters of material when I was in town yesterday and will start a fresh block tomorrow.

The flash hasn't done the colours in the top block any favours.



Blogger and my connection playing up - I'll post this whilst I still can.

End of a doggy era . . . RIP Trixie

Trixie


Yesterday was a sad day as the decision had to be taken to have mum's little dog Trixie put to sleep. She came from Llanelli Dog's Home in 1996 when mum's previous dog had to be pts, and she must have been a good 15 this year. She was also blind, doubly incontinent and a little senile. The writing has been on the wall these past few months, but we wanted the girls to be able to say goodbye to her at Christmas. Because of her blindness, she kept walking into furniture and getting tangled up in chairs, and when we came home yesterday having viewed an auction and decided not to stay, and found her so tangled in a chair we thought we would have to saw the stretchers off, we knew that the end had come. Thank God we didn't stay all day at the auction . . . As it was, she was so distressed and her quality of life was very poor, although she still enjoyed her food.

She was my mum's contact with the outside world, because she soon realized mum was deaf and couldn't hear what Trixie could pick up, so she would bark if there was anyone at the door or going past outside her cottage. She was a gallant, faithful and loyal little dog, and my mum's constant companion. Now she is with her again I am sure.

I have had dogs for the past 40 years, but my husband and I took the decision last year that there would be no more, so Trixie was the last. The house is very empty without her.

Knitted lap quilt

Last night I put the finishing touches to the lined knitted squares lap quilt I hastily sewed together over the past couple of days. Our eldest daughter is absolutely freezing up in her Uni house (even with the heating on) and so the squares we had knitted with the intention of turning into a bed throw, hastily got sewn together for a winter warmer instead. OK, the initial squares are smaller than the later ones - mainly as I'd put the bag away and when I felt in a knitting mood before Christmas, just sized it from - bad - memory, but it is warm and it's not as though it's being entered for a show. I lined it with some leftover quilt batting, and then backed it with some more of the flanelette sheeting I had left over from backing the heavy curtain for the front door (that stuff really is earning its keep).




Now - another dish cloth to start on today, and casting on for a knitted hat for my son, plus some more piecing on the two quilts I'm working on.

I used some pretty buttons to tie the layers together.

Census wanderings updated

Either this cottage above or the footings below belonged to Troedyrhiw, home to generations of Sieve Makers or Clog Makers, depending on the demand for either. In 1841 it houses James Thomas, a 40 year old Sievemaker, his wife Ann, also 40, their daughters Elizabeth (20), Mary (20), Ann (15), Margaret (14), and Hannah (7); and their sons David (10), William (5) and Thomas (6 mths). This is by no means a large cottage - whichever ruin you look at. 10 people would have been a tight fit in here.

In 1861, it housed Sarah Bowen, who was unmarried and earning her keep as a "netting woman"; James James, 70 years of age, was still at work as a sieve maker, and his wife Ann was 63.

In 1891, William Williams, 40, Clogmaker; his wife Maria, 41, and daughters Margaretta (12), Elizabeth (9) and Sarah (4), lived here.

Below, the Butcher's Broom in the hedgerow by a triangle of land that probably house Brechfai and its occupants. Butcher's Broom was cut and used for sweeping, and the leaves are hard and quite prickly.

I "think" this is where Brechfai was. There is no other reason for a little triangle of land remaining like this, and as there is some Butcher's Broom growing in the hedgerow in the above photo (although no box, which is the usual cottage plot indicator), I would be fairly sure that a cottage once stood there. Anyway, it stood in 1891, and here lived farmer David Thomas, aged 40, his wife Mary who was 34, and their children Joshua (9), Rachel (7), Margaret (5), John (4), Henry Thomas (1) and a farm servant, Albert Bray. Children were often about 2 years apart in age, as breastfeeding delayed the return of the menses, which was about the only form of contraception amongst poor people. (Though perhaps D H Lawrence would suggest another, hence the controversy over the publication of Lady Chatterley's Lover . . .) The term "farmer" applied, whether it was 2 acres or 200 . . .


This sagging gateway led to the Factory, used for processing wool. Its "proper" name was Nantybaste Factory, in 1841. John Jones, 50, woolcarder (not born in the county), and his sons William and David, both 15, lived here then. In 1861, it was run by Wool Spinner Thomas Thomas, 41, who was born reasonably locally in Llandybier. He was married to Rachel (32) and they had children David (14), John (7), William (6), Anne (3) and James (1). By 1891, it housed John and Margaret Haines and their 7 children. He was a wool spinner from Evesham, Worcs.

I will continue with this tomorrow, on the other side of the river.

This is my current project on the domestic front. Over the past year my eldest daughter and I (in spare moments) knitted some simple squares to be made up into a bedspread for her bed up in Uni. However, she is now in more urgent need of a lap quilt, so I am going to line and back this today, and put some ties through to hold it in place, and get it quickly away in the post, as the rented house is absolutely freezing, even with the heating on . . . I am also knitting dishclothes. Watch this space.

Mutterings . . .

One of the little lanes leading to Dryslwyn Castle.


And looking back along it.


I am glad to announce that the normal Welsh Winter has returned to roost - warm, wet with Westerly winds. What a relief.

I am also glad to announce that I have my crafting head back. It went walkabouts between autumn and Christmas, and I just was NOT in the mood for crafting. Last night I finished G's lovely blue scarf; mended a black and white stripey school scarf of my husband's to also send up to her (that man throws NOTHING away - it's circa the mid-1950s!) and when I was looking for something else in my craft cupboard, I discovered the template and some tacked-up hexagons so I am making another hexagon quilt - perhaps for us, or perhaps to donate to one of my favourite horse charities for a raffle prize. Today I have to start sewing together (or I may crochet together) a bag full of knitted squares which my eldest daughter and I have worked on, on and off, for the past year. She is desperately cold up at her Uni house, so I thought I would rattle up a warm lap quilt for her. She does feel the cold so. Then I have to start on a silly hat (knitted Viking style with horns!) for my son, and then some fingerless gloves for eldest daughter's boyfriend . . . I am also making some patchwork blocks for the Lluest Horse and Pony Trust Charity quilt. Those are being machine-pieced, and yesterday's was a Courthouse Steps Log Cabin block.

Gosh, looking through my window it seems like it will never get light. At least we are seeing the year move with a little more light late afternoon. I am looking forward to the light evenings again and being able to crack on out in the garden again. GTM mentioned that there would be another cold spell - even worse than this - in February. I do hope not. I wanted to try and get some seeds started early, but perhaps not . . .

During the next week, I shall try and do an update on some of the Census cottages I discovered at the back end of last year. They all have a little story to tell.

Dryslwyn in the distance.

And a close-up.


A lovely old ivy-clad oak (or rather, what remains of it). I dare say it was a young tree when the Rebecca Riots were taking place.


Water frozen in the ruts. There will be a ploughing match held here in the spring, and I intend to spectate (and photograph) this time.


Where there IS colour, this new camera is very good at highlighting it against a drab background . . .


The statuesque ruined curtain walls of Dryslwyn.