Clarissa et al.

Back at work for just two days: Wednesday a staff meeting and training day, then today spent in the Victorian schoolroom with a school from Grimsby. Two very different classes: the morning's had three remarkably silly boys in it who wouldn't get into the spirit of things at all and kept giggling which somewhat spoiled things for the other children, while the afternoon class which had several children with obvious learning difficulties behaved beautifully and will have taken a great deal away from the day. Sadly - and it is always the problem of bus companies charging a huge premium if they cannot return in time to use the same buses on the school run - they had a very short day with less than four hours on site, arriving at about ten and leaving before two o'clock.

On Saturday I'm off to the beautiful Yorkshire Dales for a week. I've booked a cottage near Hawes. On the off-chance any burglars read my blog, I should point out that the house will be occupied, and the steady flow of visits from large young men and their dogs (not to mention friendly neighbourhood policemen drinking tea) will continue unabated.

I was about to say that I couldn't bear to watch the Liverpool v Porto match any longer because Liverpool was playing so very badly. In fact I had just left the room when . . . Liverpool scored. Am I the jinx? Should I stay out of the room and get on with my blog? Or should I watch my favourite premiership team and blog later?

I went to a conference today on the future of the Lincolnshire Library Service. I understand why they want to combine library services with information centres for the County and District councils; why they want to have all sorts of other services under the same roof; why they want to link libraries with shops, post offices and health centres. Taken to its logical conclusion I can see the sense of having someone multi-tasking at reception/the checkout if that gives smaller branch libraries longer opening hours, but I would worry about the loss of expert librarians or even people with sufficient knowledge and time to put returned books back on the correct shelves, and on a personal level I would miss the sheer bookishness of traditional libraries. I also wonder whether this rush to make free/cheap internet acccess available at every branch is actually neessary. Most people without computers now are technophobes who wouldn't use a computer in the library any more than they will buy one for their home (or more often learn to use the one another family member already has) rather than people too poor to afford the technology. Is public I.T. going to be as obsolete as the public telephone before it is properly in place? Couldn't the I.T. budget be better spent on digitising records which are now only indexed on line, but for which we need to make a visit to the central library or archive in order to consult them in detail?

There is also the question of popularising libraries. If you average out library visits in Lincolnshire every man, woman and child visits a library 4 times a year, but these visits are actually made by just 17% of the population. If we forget the people doing serious research and just think of the budget spent on light reading: to what extent are we willing to see a cut in aga sagas, detective stories, bodice rippers, biographies and travel books which are the preferred entertainment of the middle-aged, middle-class, middle-brow ladies who make up the largest proportion of regular borrowers in order to make space and pay for the motor magazines and sci-fi and super-hero comics which it is believed would attract young men (the group said to have the lowest proportion of library users) into the library?

If I go back to the the subject at the beginning of this blog, there may be some point in trying to attract TV football fans such as myself into the stadium with promises of comfy seats, heated stands, and a nice cup of tea and a scone brought to my seat at half-time, but why waste the effort on people who regard all sport as a waste of time, or those who like cricket, but regard football as an activity for the barbarian hoard? I think that the same applies to libraries: make things pleasant and easier for the fringe users and the young potential users to get books out of the library, but don't waste too much effort on people who have never derived any pleasure from reading.

In Swallow there are at present just two of us who regularly use the mobile library when it visits Swallow every other Friday morning. Both of us came to it almost accidentally as we thought that mobiles would have nothing but Mills and Boon and large print books for old biddies, and were pleasantly surprised by the range of (mainly light) reading. We still use Grimsby or Lincoln if we want to do any serious research, but for a constant supply of mixed fiction the mobile does very well. There used to be more mobile library users, but Eva Kewley, Mary Harvey, Mary Wright, and Gerry and Jean Dorney have all died, Dot Hughes has gone into a home in Market Rasen, Cynthia Platt has moved to Frinton and Keith and Mary Dixon have gone to Nettleton. So only Christine and I regularly borrow books from the bus.

This does not mean that Swallow isn't reading. Plenty of other people go to central and branch libraries near to where they work or shop. Moreover nearly one adult in six belongs to the Swallow Bookworms, and we have two book exchange schemes - one through that same book club, and one at the village hall where there is a large bookcase (five foot wide, floor to ceiling, double stacked) full of books - both former library books and donations from villagers - which can be bought or borrowed by anyone visiting the village hall for a donation of 10 to 50 pence or in exchange for another book. (After today this may be taken on and adapted as a model for smaller communities.)

Another suggestion is to give library cards to every baby born in Lincolnshire which as well as allowing them to borrow books would give them access for life to other cultural and heritage services free or at a reduced price. The table I was at for discussion had at it - wholly by chance - six people who were life-long readers with fond pre-school memories of being taken to the libraries in our various Lincolnshire towns and villages so we were very keen on getting the tiniest children into the library habit; other tables came up with suggestions about giving library cards out later in childhood - even as late as the start of secondary school.

I went to the conference with a firm conviction that it was a duty to be endured, and found myself really enjoying a stimulating discussion with essentially like-minded people.

Lisbet, our erstwhile rector, was back in England this week. Yesterday she took the morning service at Nettleton, then popped into see us after our service at Swallow which began half-an-hour later.

Our original plan had been to go for a picnic together on Saturday, giving us the whole day to go somewhere different and distant(ish). Unfortunately Carolyn (the other member of last year's picnic party at Tattershall and Bolingbroke castles) was at work, so we decided to go on Sunday afternoon instead.

Phone message Sunday morning: Carolyn has food poisoning and won't be able to join us.

Joe was determined to go to Sledmere, but with 11.00 and 11.30 church services and Lisbet needing to be back before 6.00 (preferably by 5.00), the hour-and-a-half each way would (allowing for getting stuck behind tractors etc.) have allowed us little more than an hour at Sledmere so we went to the nearest country house open to the public: Normanby Hall which is where I work. Joe was very disappointed, and showed it.

I have to say that it rather annoys me having to pay to get in when I am not working, but then I think their all-in ticket for the house, garden, park and museum is a bit steep for anyone just wanting a picnic, although at £4.60 per person it is an excellent bargain for those wanting a cultural day out.

Annoyance aside, we had a pleasant picnic, I showed Lisbet round the hall and had a chance to have a proper look at the library which isn't included in our workshops and at the costume and pottery displays. Most of all, of course, it was lovely to see Lisbet again.

My Family (a repeat was on earlier this evening) isn't actually one of my favourite sitcoms, except that I have a strange feeling that the authors have met my nephews.

Look hard at the picture above, and imagine what it is really like to belong to the same family as Nick and Michael, then substitute Joe and Josh. Nick/Joe with his schemes doomed to failure, and the much cleverer Michael/Josh with his money-making scams . . . at least ours have hard-working, normal Jake between them, and while Jess can be nearly as dippy as Abi, she at least isn't showing signs of being too much like Janey. Or is she? I handed her something in a Lidl carrier the other day, and she insisted on substituting a bag with a more up-market label.

No, My Family isn't funny: it's much too near the truth for that!

Talking of families, hotmail has just altered the contacts list from being arranged by surname to being arranged by first name. This is in my opinion less good as it makes it harder to block-mail cousins who tend to share a surname, as well as having to remember whether you listed your friends as 'Fred and Mabel' or 'Mabel and Fred'. Interestingly I find that I know more Jennies than any other first name with Paul, Sarah and Ruth tied on second.

I don't spend much time in Grimsby nowadays having turned into a total country mouse.

I don't spend much of my time thinking about the visual impact of factories.

Yesterday I happened to be visiting a street in Grimsby which has large grassed areas and most of the houses have very pretty, well-tended gardens. Dominating the view beyond the end of the road was the old Birdseye factory, and I thought to myself, "What an eyesore!", "How it must overshadow the houses and gardens closest to it making them dark even on a lovely sunny day like today." and "What a pity nobody has demolished it now it is no longer in use."

Last night it burned down. I didn't have anything to do with it: if there had been a fairy in my car offering wishes, I'd have thought of something better than that. Nonetheless, I feel ever so slightly guilty for ill-wishing it.
I should point out that the above pictures are not mine, but downloaded from the "This is Grimsby" website.

Monday, September 17th
Just an Afterthought
Two further major warehouse fires have since reached the national news - one in Aylesbury and one in Grantham. I have family in both those places: is a mysterious fire-raising elf visiting my relatives one by one?

Another acronym turned up today in Parish Council - FEMALC.

My interpretation is that it is a support group for women with alcohol dependency problems brought on by overlong mission statements coming from public bodies.

This is not the real explanation which is boringly Forum of East Midlands Association of Local Councils. The consensus of opinion in Swallow is that it is right down there with French Connection United Kingdom as an acronym.

Language is a funny thing. Hilary described the man in charge of the Queen Street School project as "Ian who used to be Vicky before Tracy" giving me a clear but erroneous mental picture of the said Ian. What Hilary meant was that Ian used to be the Museum Education Officer a post since held by first Tracy and now Vicky. Useful information, but my interpretation was more entertaining.

Today was the last of the Heritage Open Days for this year, so after church (and a cup of coffee to deal with what my grandmother called 'the thirst after righteousness') Joe and I headed off to Barton.

Our first port of call was the old school in Queen Street.

Queen Street School was built in 1844 as a combined National and Infant School. The building is in the Tudor-Revival style, in red brick with stone dressings and slate roof. The original H-plan building contains three main schoolroom ranges and a former Master's House. The School has been disused since 1978.

The significance of the school

The School forms part of an impressive group of Victorian public buildings in the heart of Barton upon Humber's Conservation Area. The school, listed at Grade II*, is identified by English Heritage as `one of the most important schools surviving in England'; firstly, for its unique association with the leading educational pioneer, Samuel Wilderspin, and secondly, for its embodiment of educational innovation and its importance as a model design for other Victorian schools.

Samuel Wilderspin (1791-1866) was one of the founders of modern schooling. His work had a profound and far-reaching impact on educational practice and on the design and furnishing of school buildings and their grounds. He pioneered infant schools and invented the school playground, the teaching gallery, the classroom and new ways of teaching that still continue today. His approach - developing a child's feelings as well as their intellect, encouraging a spirit of enquiry, learning through experience, arts and nature, group activities and play - has proved to be remarkably far-sighted and long-lasting. Wilderspin's influence was international - as well as establishing infant schooling throughout the UK, the first infant schools in Europe, the Commonwealth and America were all modelled on his system, and his innovations had a transforming effect on education of children of all ages throughout the world.

The Queen Street School was built in 1844 as a combined Infant School and National School for older children, to designs by William Hey Dykes of Hull and Wakefield, assisted by Wilderspin. The original 1840s School is still remarkably complete.. It is a unique survival. Wilderspin had a world-wide impact, yet this is the only known survival anywhere of a Wilderspin school and playground. It is the only known example of a Model School which Wilderspin himself helped design and equip, and where he taught for several years, using it as a base for his promotion of enlightened education throughout Britain.

Besides being the only known example of a Wilderspin Model School, this is the only surviving school in England associated with a major early 19th century educational innovator. The School was used for an influential model design for a mixed infant and junior school published by the Government in 1845. Later 19th and early 20th century alterations to the building have been relatively modest, and retain the form and character of the original 1844 building to a remarkable extent. These later alterations and additions, in matching style and materials, trace the development of educational practice from the mid 19'th to the mid 20th century, a period which saw important and far reaching changes in childrens' schooling.

Together, these qualities make the Queen Street School building and its early playground area a site of considerable national and international importance. The present proposals have been guided by recognition of the School's exceptional significance, and its particular value as an embodiment of educational innovation and change during a critical historical period. The views of leading authorities on architectural history, the history of education, and school museums have been taken into account in the preparation of the project and the building scheme.

I am rather interested in this as it is proposed that the Victorian classroom at Normanby Hall will be closed and restored as a bedroom in the house tour, and that we will be teaching a range of schoolrooms here at Barton - the junior morning we now teach, a Wilderspin infant class, afternoon lessons and a wartime class - with drill done properly in the yard rather than in a corridor and proper outdoor play with correct playground toys.

Today was the last chance for the public to see the school in its unrestored state as the builders move in tomorrow and are expected to complete their work next spring. As you will see from the pictures below they have a tough job.

If you want to know more . . .
http://www.bartonuponhumber.btinternet.co.uk/school/heritproj.htm
http://www.northlincs.gov.uk/NorthLincs/Leisure/heritage/QueenStreetSchool/ConservationPlan.htm

Our second visit was to 51 Fleetgate.

Behind the facade of this unprepossessing little shop hides the oldest house in Barton dating back to the 1300s. We were quoted an expert opinion that is is the finest mediaeval timber frame building in the north of England, although (having seen - for example - the Merchant Adventurers' Hall in York, not to mention Little Moreton Hall, Speke and Rufford Old Hall which three may be too late to count as mediaeval) I am inclined to take this with a pinch of salt. Judge for yourself: here are the interior and exterior of the back wall of the house -

Having said that, the reception was friendly and the guided tour round the house was interesting. We were told not merely about the distant past and architectural history, but about Mr. Clipson, the barber, who lived and worked there for much of the 20th century who sounds a delightful character. He resisited change - the only running water in the house was in the barber's shop, and until his death in 1989 he continued to cook on the 'new' range put in by his parents in 1903. Once again there is a website with plenty of information -
http://www.geocities.com/fleetgate51
Unlike the Queen Street School where the state of dereliction is to a large extent what we had come to see, this is (like the Amy Howson) pretty much a completed project. Sadly (again like the Amy Howson) there is a scruffiness in the way it is presented which could so easily be avoided. In both cases the main area to be exhibited was filled with the detritus of running the trust (exacerbated by a very scruffy kitchen/galley area on the Amy Howson) which could and should be cleared away to show the trust's achievements to their best advantage.

I didn't take any interior photos on the ship, but these desks and chairs blocking a mediaeval window in a room so crowded with stuff that there was hardly any space for visitors to stand give an indication of what I mean.

We finished the day with a quick visit to Caistor Church where there was an exhibition about emigrants from Caistor - mainly in the nineteenth century. We arrived at 3.35 and it was due to close at 4.00, but a christening party started arriving so we made ours a flying visit.

Just a little trip today into Grimsby and on into Cleethorpes to look at the town halls.

Both these buildings have been familiar to me all my life so there was not much of the public rooms to surprise me, however Grimsby had set out an interesting exhibition from the town archives of documents about the fishing industry and travellers to and from Grimsby in the Council Chamber. The permanent Time Trap exhibition of the town's history in the former gaol in the town hall was also open free so we had a look at that too. I won't say that I personally learned much new, but it is well set out and well worth a visit.

Back in the town hall proper we visited the mayor's parlour and Joe was very much impressed by how similar the carved furniture in there was to that which we have at home, and we both wonder whether it was made by my great-grandfather. He was a master cabinet maker who came to Grimsby as a refugee from Belgium during the Great War and worked for a Grimsby firm of furniture makers for the duration. Afterwards he returned to his own business and with my grandad set up a regular trade in furniture between Antwerp and Grimsby, so there is plenty of his furniture about and if it was (so I have been told) good enough for royalty, it was certainly good enough for Grimsby Borough Council.

Cleethorpes Town Hall is even more familiiar to me than that at Grimsby; my father was mayor in 1960-61 when I was 5, and I was therefore a fairly frequent visitor to the Mayor's Parlour there. I also attended the annual League of Pity Christmas parties there where we played games, had a fancy dress competition and a party tea, and received badges for collecting money for the charity over the year in large papiermache blue eggs. One year I won a prize in the Fancy Dress as a witch, and in another Helen and I were Peter Pan and Wendy. In 1960 the Borough Mayor was (as was customary) the judge so I (being barred from the competition for obvious reasons) was allowed to assist in the judging.

Joe had never before visited the town hall so I was able to show and tell him quite a bit of its connections with the family back to his great-great-grandfather who was on the old Urban District Council before Cleethorpes became a Borough (one of only three charters granted in the brief reign of Edward VIII). I was also able to give him a brief (and frequently less than flattering) run down on a good many of the former mayors - he now knows the pompous twits from the good eggs. Looking at the list, we discovered that of all the mayors of the old Borough (pre 1970s local government re-organisation) my father is one of only two still living, and the only one still active in local government.

In the evening we went to the village barbecue. Once again most people chose to remain indoors at the village hall which I find strange on a pleasantly warm evening. We fitted our visit in comfortably between the England v Israel football match (3-0 good result) and the Last Night of the Proms, but either or both of these had reduced the expected numbers attending although the hall was reasonably full.

We had our 'works outing' today when five of us went to Harlow Carr (the Royal Horticultural Society's centre in the north). The day was beautiful, and so were the gardens. Dianne went round with her eye glued to the camera doing her imitation of a Japanese tourist (actually getting her daughter material for her RHS course), and we all took some photographs.

I like these mixed beds which are similar to the planting I have done on a small scale this year.

And these are also rather lovely

This innovative dragon with its body made of stabilised log piles which children can climb on was great fun . . .

. . . but can innovation go too far?

I thought that the 'period garedens' were rather poor, and we all agreed that the so-called 1950s garden bore no resemblance to any garden any of us remember from our childhood.
We started with coffee at Betty's and ended the afternoon there with cream teas.

Dianne, Margaret, Sharon, Hilary, me.

Joe and I visited the Amy Howson, a Humber sloop which was moored at Ferriby Sluice. She was a working vessel until the late 1960s carrying cargoes from as far inland as York and Leeds to Grimsby and Hull. She was bought by the preservation society in 1978 http://www.humberships.org.uk/html/humber_sloop_amy_howson.html
In the somewhat untidy cargo hold is a rather amateurihly arranged display of pictures of the Amy Howson and her sister ships over the last century or so. The cabin is beautifully fitted, but I couldn't get a photo through the glass peephole from the engine room.
Here she is . . .

. . . and here is Ferriby Sluice with the herd of sheep grazing the banks of the Humber.

Yesterday we went on our annual trip to Sandilands. Not quite the usual numbers as Helen had to take Glen for a hospital appointment, Jake and Josh are busy with harvest, and Becky's children are respectively at school and work at home in Lancashire. (They grow up so fast!) Still there were five children in the 10 to 14 range and Tilly aged just one. When we were walking Tilly along the prom with Issy and Inge doing 'one, two, three, swing!' as they walked it didn't seem any time at all since the teenagers with us were babies of Tilly's age doing the same thing.

As well as being our annual Sandilands day, it was the fourth day of Inge's week long 40th birthday celebrations. On Sunday she had a day at the races where John (her ex-husband) won several hundred pounds, Jessie discovered lobster and a good time was had by all who enjoy that kind of thing. I was not of their number. I would have enjoyed the lobster, but have disapproved of almost everything else.

Monday was the birthday itself, and Tuesday was the day Inge was supposed to be going on a picnic with us, but actually did the washing and packing for Thursday (when they go off for a long weekend in Scotland) while I took her boys off her hands. (see yesterday's blog)

Wednesday: birthday lunch and tea in Issy's chalet at Sandilands. Seafood platter and very chocolatey chocolate cake.

On somebody else's blog I mentioned the lovely clean, sandy beaches of the Lincolnshire coast: this is Sandilands on the last day of the school holidays - warm, much sunnier than it appears in the photos which have turned out rather dark, and almost deserted.

I was standing in the sea about three hours after high tide looking back to the shore. This next photo shows the quality of the sand. Jess is not prostrating herself before Joel, but is actually starting to dig a pit in which to bury him.

Finally Esther (formerly the youngest girl) with Tilly (also Joe), and Jenni doing what teenagers do best when not actively engaged in the art of stropping.
There were photos taken of the birthday party, but not by me. I'll try and get hold copies.

Nearing the end of the school summer holidays I did the logical thing and went to work - or, rather, to where I work, and took Jess, Joel and Callum with me to enjoy the Romans exhibition. This has proved so popular that the next exhibition has been postponed for a year so that this one can have a double length run.

Jess and Callum make mosaics, and Callum shows off the finished result.

Jess (helped by Dianne) builds an arch, while Callum prepares to knock down a wall.

Callum grinds flour, then both brothers visit the Roman loo (with authentic smells).

Callum beats me hollow at this Roman board game, while Joel and Jess have a go at making Roman jewllery.

This Roman couple don't look very happy. Is a visit to a magical place reqired?

The three of them explore Julian's Bower at Alkborough (an ancient turf maze), then Callum triumphs at reaching the centre and shows off a fossil he found.

People who think that neighbours who cremate sausages in their gardens are a problem should try living next to a field that has been muckspread! I think that they must have been using fresh pig-sh**! Anyway, I couldn't stay out in the garden. So I spent my time adapting an old shirt so that Glen can put it on without having to move his right arm.