Myths Of Great Britain.

[BIAD]

I was perusing through my old books and some websites on the many legends of Great Britain, when I
recalled that most of the tales that have survived tend to have a moral lesson embedded in them.

Last night, my wife was watching a programme on Greek mythology and again, a common-sense caution
lay in the centuries-old narrative. Icarus and his father Daedalus, Prometheus and his zest to promote the
human-intelligence and Jason's Argonauts, all stories that showed the struggles that mankind endures to
be better than itself.

So I kept looking at the British tales -only because it's where I'm from, and after stripping out the 'scare-
the-children' stuff, very little seemed to give them any credibility. But some of these old chronicles don't
carry any warnings in a manner that a child would understand -except the exemplar 'Stay On The Path'!

If we assume that a child perceives the world as literal and any words of caution from elders hold their
exact meaning only, most of the myths I looked at made me wonder what might lay off this 'safe' path for
youngsters that could be dangerous?

Wolves certainly thrived in Britain  until they were supposedly exterminated within the fifteenth century.
Bears were gone around the same time in what we call the latter-end of the Medieval period.

Wild boar hung in there until the seventeenth century, but since these hairy swine were favoured for hunting
by the wealthy of the time, the continuation may have involved some form of human-management.

So did the residents of villages and hamlets around England have enough concerns about these dwindling species
 that it warranted tales of dread, it's not said. But still, I can appreciate a parents unease of having their children
close to forests and having such beasts as wolves, bears and boars roaming in the shadows.

Job done... but is it?
If such dangerous animals did sanction embroidered stories of beware, why invent other -more oddly
described animals to frighten children in the woods? Here's a fairly modern-day one that I find fascinating.

We're talking about the 1950's, a time when the polio vaccine became common and Elvis Presley starts
grinding his hips. Castro was blazing up his cigar and hurricanes were running rampant in the US.

In Britain, those terrible beasties were long gone and in the quiet coastal marshlands of East Anglia,
a Policeman on his beat would hardly be watching the woodland for such monsters.

The Shug Monkey.

'The Shug Monkey was first mentioned in print by local writer and broadcaster James Wentworth Day in
his 1954 book, Here Are Ghosts and Witches.

A local Police Constable A. Taylor, who had heard the stories of the creature in his youth, described it to
Wentworth Day as: “a cross between a big rough-coated dog and a monkey with big shining eyes.
Sometimes it would shuffle along on its hind legs and at other times it would whiz past on all fours.”

The man also stated that after dark local children were warned to avoid the Shug Monkey’s favourite haunts,
close to dark, dark forests...'

Wikipedia:

Shug is old-English slang from the word 'scucca', a demon of sorts. A nice local tale that would make parents
smirk and the children look warily at the country lanes. Suffolk is on the East coast of England (the bump that sticks
out into the North Sea above the London area) and oddly enough, this weird creature -that some may believe came
from a Policeman's vivid imagination, seems to have had not enough of being witnessed.

This particular account  was still in Suffolk a county of East Anglia, but in the now-famous area of Rendlesham Forest.

'In 1956, Sam Holland was taking a bracing January walk in the Suffolk countryside with his spaniel dog Harry
when he spotted something unusual in the trees around 40ft in front of him.

There, in a thicket of trees, was a beast that Holland had never seen before, a kind of bizarre British bigfoot,
a vast creature walking on four muscular legs (“like a lion’s”) covered in thick, glossy black fur.
Easily 10ft in length, Holland struggled to place what the beast could be.

Panicking, his brain raced through the options, wondering whether he had stumbled across an escapee from the
zoo or a private estate with its own menagerie: and then the creature turned towards his direction and stared
directly at him.

As ice-cold terror crept over Holland, he was powerless but to stare back at the creature in horror: as it watched
him and his whimpering dog, he saw that it had a dreadful, frowning face, similar to a silver-back gorilla.
It possessed a thick neck, intelligent-looking, piercing eyes, wide and flared nostrils and terrifyingly huge jaws.

Man and beast stared at each other, one in abject terror, the other in what soon appeared to be utter nonchalance:
after what seemed an eternity, the creature simply turned away and crept back into the dark forest.

When pushed, Holland said the beast had looked like a combination of an ape, a dog, a bear, a lion and a rhinoceros
–he maintained his sighting had been genuine when questioned decades later, saying he believed the creature had
been paranormal, rather than a natural wonder.

Seven years after Holland’s sighting, in the very same stretch of forest, a woman called Peggy Cushing saw an almost
-identical sounding beast with one (fairly large) difference: as she stared at the beast in horror, it shimmered and then
shifted its shape to become a winged gargoyle, taking flight into the darkness...'

Source:

An escaped malformed Baboon...? A zoo-free Mandrill? With the regular accounts of Werewolves and shambling
'Man-Apes' now becoming prominent in this small island, was the Shug Monkey just another example of what the
Germans used to insult the British with? 'Inselaffen'... it means island ape!



I'll look for more and thanks to other members for their earlier input.

[Ninurta]

Shug... scucca... Do you suppose these words may relate to "shuck", as in "black shuck"?

We had a similar phenomena around here, and curiously enough it was in the 50's too. It was called the "Devil Monkey", which would seem to relate to the phrase "shug monkey" in a hillbilly sort of way if shug comes from scucca, a demon of sorts. I believe the first sighting was just a few mile from where I sit, Most of the descriptions seemed to fit a very large, very angry baboon-like critter.

I still threaten the cat with it. When she whines and yowls at me to go out at night, I tell her no, because it's dark out and the Devil Monkey might eat her.



.

[BIAD]

Shug... scucca... Do you suppose these words may relate to "shuck", as in "black shuck"?

I think it does connect to that colloquialism, the Black Shuck phenomena was actually the one I was just reading
about and I was wondering what the 'back-story' might be. Dogs are seen as loyal and yet in this mythical situation,
the Black Shuck, -a ghostly dog of negative foretelling, is a creature to avoid and smacks of little fidelity.

We had a similar phenomena around here, and curiously enough it was in the 50's too.
It was called the "Devil Monkey", which would seem to relate to the phrase "shug monkey" in a hillbilly sort of way if
shug comes from scucca, a demon of sorts.

I believe the first sighting was just a few mile from where I sit, Most of the descriptions seemed to fit a very large,
very angry baboon-like critter...

I'd agree with you, it must be a description of a similar creature and oddly enough, in the same time-frame of
what this 'Bobby-on-the-beat' and dog-walker supposedly witnessed. But would an adult in two separate parts
of the world imagine two comparable 'monsters' for the sake of scaring kids?

Or would Occam's Razor be applied and suggest a Devil Monkey and a Shug Monkey were simply seen?

[Wallfire]

And the Irish have the Banshee, I remember Irish people telling storys about how it would come to the bed of people that were  dieing.
Some storys were quite frighting if you believe in the Banshee. 
I think it was also known as the mother-in-law

[BIAD]

...I think it was also known as the mother-in-law

  My lips are sealed...(until after the will is read)

[Wallfire]

...I think it was also known as the mother-in-law

  My lips are sealed...(until after the will is read)

Words of a wise man 

[BIAD]

Whenever you take a look into the origins of anything, there's always debris that can make you pause in your research.

Take the strange paranormal creature called 'Black Shuck for example. It's generally accepted that these terrifying
midnight-coloured canines are a global phenomena and yet in Wikipedia (forgive me!), it states that such a ferocious
beast originated from the East Anglian coast of Britain.

East Anglia...? We're back in the area of the Shug Monkey. Wikipedia continues that the first version of Black Shuck
was written down in an eminent journal titled 'Notes and Queries'. The author of the piece was a Reverend E.S. Taylor
who put to words the report of what he called 'Shuck the Dog-fiend'.
This was in 1850.

Taylor... Taylor, the same surname of the Policeman who witnessed the Shug Monkey and only four years before the
Policeman reported his account of the odd-looking animal. Strange?

East Anglia was also an area that the Vikings settled in (Danelaw) and one can be sure that the Norse legend of the
giant wolf called Fenrir had some effect in the birth of the Black Shuck circumstances. A dark portent of doom, that
walked the country lanes and brought trepidation to anyone setting eyes upon it.
  (Gulp here!)

Alas, the poor ghostly dog has been flogged-to-death here on Rogue Nation, so my best act would be to provide links
the other interesting accounts.
A grateful thank you to The Mystic Wanderer: (Link) and Ninurta: (Link)

[BIAD]

Here's a fairly short narration regarding 'Old Stinker' -the Barmston Drain Beast.

With the use of expressions of 'cultural-guilt' and playing word-games to entertain and boast an alleged
high intelligence, this interesting lady posits a theory that the ghost of extinct wolves is the reason someone
witnessing a large upright wolf-like being with smelly breath filled their pants with foul.

It's all in the mind.

[BIAD]

Most of us may think of legends and myths belonging to a time when knights rode mane-tossing stallions and
plotting dignitaries in tights stalked gloomy castle corridors.

Maybe we think of heroic Greek warriors attaining a lady's hand whilst fighting off a brute with a single eye or a
wild west gunslinger speeding across a midnight desert with vengeance on his mind.
But real life isn't always like that.

In an area of the struggling city of 1954 Glasgow, Scotland,  the children of the Gorbals neighbourhood found
that mythical monsters can prowl in any century and in the best traditions of heroes, the horror must be bested.


The Gorbals Vampire.

It started in the schoolyard, a silly comment meant to impress one's companion or even the girl who smiled from
across the classroom, but like any eager sugary tittle-tattle, it spread like a Covid in a Retirement Home.

Iron-teeth he held between his powerful jaws, a seven-foot tall vampire spending the daytime hours slumbering in
the nearby graveyard known as Necropolis cemetery. Embroidery of the rumour became the name-of-the-game
and as the information was passed on through the kids and after school, to their brothers and sisters, the vampire
became fiercer and the narration of those metal teeth intensified into gleaming razors that thirsted for young blood.

But what was to be done...? It seemed that the adults had ignored this night-beast and as older boys buttoned-up
the hand-me-down coat of their your brothers, thoughts of putting the vampire to the sword nibbled at their consciences
and played on their adolescent fears. 

Yet, harmed with sticks, knives taken from kitchen drawers, homemade stakes and even the faithful dog, the young boys
left their homes and with toddlers holding their hands, they set out for the hunting ground.

Except... real life doesn't work that way and by the time Constable Alex Deeprose responded to the news of a disturbance
in the Necropolis Kirkyard, it wasn't just kids searching for the iron-toothed vampire.

Tam Smith -one of the would-be night-crawler hunters was a seven-year-old schoolboy at the time.
He recalled the scene in a newspaper interview:

“The walls were lined with people. We ventured through the gatehouse and there were loads of kids
in there, some wandering around, some sitting on the walls.
There were a lot of dogs too, and mums and dads with kids.

“We found a place to stand out of the way because there were so many people there.
I think the whole of the Gorbals was in that graveyard. It’s hard to put an estimate on the number of
people.”

So what had caused these grown-ups and their young 'uns to venture out on 23rd September 1954 and seek the
monster in their midst? Ronnie Sanderson was an eight-year-old at the time and explained:

“It all started in the playground - the word was there was a vampire and everyone was going to head
out there after school. At three o’clock the school emptied and everyone made a beeline for it.

We sat there for ages on the wall waiting and waiting. I wouldn’t go in because it was a bit scary for me.”
“I think somebody saw someone wandering about and the cry went up: ‘There’s the vampire!’
That was it - that was the word to get off that wall quick and get away from it.”

“I just remember scampering home to my mother: ‘What’s the matter with you?’ ‘I’ve seen a vampire!’
and I got a clout round the ear for my trouble. I didn’t really know what a vampire was.”

With P.C Deeprose taking charge and dispersing the multitude of frolicking youngsters -whilst no doubt,
chiding the adults for their ignorance, he declared the hunt was over and possibly hoped the incident would
fade away.


Then and now, the intrepid Vampire Hunters.

But it didn't and at a time when the newly-published 'Lord of The Rings' would never reach the imaginations
of the working-class area of Glasgow and the still British Prime Minister Winston Churchill turned eighty years-old,
the newspapers were happy to make a local story global.

The prudish and the Press suggested imported American horror comics were the cause of the scare, but academics
pointed to a quote in the Bible (Daniel 7.7):

“Behold a fourth beast, dreadful and terrible, and strong exceedingly; and it had great iron teeth”

Others suggested the children may also have been inspired by Alexander Anderson's Scottish poem
‘Jenny wi’ the Iron Teeth, an old woman said to haunt Glasgow Green in the early 19th century.
The 'panic' raged for a couple of weeks until once more, the Gorbals dropped from the limelight and
the gates of the Necropolis cemetery creaked closed again.

But the Vampire wasn't slain.

[guohua]

...I think it was also known as the mother-in-law

  My lips are sealed...(until after the will is read)

[BIAD]

On the southern coast of Britain, there's a small island that was in the UK news recently regarding testing
the new 'Track & Trace' app in order to locate and destroy the 2020 Kung-Flu. This diamond-shaped chunk
of land that sits only four miles from England's coastline is called The Isle of Wight.

On that island is a chapel, a quaint place where something very odd happened in the year of 1831.
A young girl called Lucy Lightfoot would visit the church of St. Olave and over the days of her perusal,
would become infatuated with a coffee-coloured oak effigy of a long-ago knight.

This hallowed building was erected in 1292 by the Estur family and was situated on the grounds of
the family home, Gatcombe House. In the gloom to the left of the alter is the prone carved statue
clutching a shield to his chest and holding a dagger in his right hand.

Legend has it that the chiselled sword that hung at the knight's waist held a lodestone in its hilt,
a magnetic chunk of mineral that served as a jewel for the sculpture. No doubt, the stone drew north
just as the smooth graven image drew the blond-haired seventeen year-old to the nobleman's grave.

The life-sized carving displays the figure with crossed legs, indicative of those who went to the Holy Land
and arrived in Jerusalem. A diminutive angel cradles the knight's helmeted head and his feet rest on a
unnamed faithful dog.


St. Olave's Chapel and the sleeping Knight.

Lucy Lightfoot gazed on the wooden depiction of Sir Edward Estur, who in 1265 left to fight in the crusades
and flimsy reports state he died in 1303 in Palestine. With his body being transported back to the family home,
Sir Edward rested in the peace of St. Olave's and in another world, would be forgotten.

But Lucy's obsession with Sir Edward made sure his resting place wouldn't hold the peace we'd assume
and with her constant prayers and wild imaginings, one can wonder what powers beyond this world were
being attracted.

On 13 June 1831 and during one of Lucy's visits, a total eclipse of the sun was witnessed by the residents of
the island and as the skies darkened, a violent thunderstorm began. Hail bombarded the small chantry and
lightning flashed around the hallowed grounds of St Olave's.

Inside, Lucy Lightfoot waited out the unusual Summer weather and the rare astronomical event with the figure
of her one devotion, Sir Edward.

When the storm abated, Lucy’s terrified horse was found tethered to the church gate, but Lucy had vanished
and despite extensive searches inside and out of the church by concerned villagers, she was never seen again.

What was also strange was that the lodestone set into the sword of the knight had disappeared too.
The only clue was a sprinkling of dust around the base of the tomb where Sir Edward Estur rested.

The girl's distraught Father and brothers searched the surrounding woods for months after, but to no avail.
Lucy and the magnetic jewel had gone.
...............................

In 1865 a Methodist Minister -Reverend Samuel Trelawney from the Scilly Isles, had been researching the
Crusades when he stumbled upon a document written by the Chancellor to the King of Cyprus dated 1297.

The old manuscript contained details of an English Knight called Edward Estur travelling the highways and
byways of Jerusalem. Accompanying this Crusader was his wife, a ‘brave and beautiful woman' called Lucy!

Further descriptions told that the enigimatic girl who followed her heroic knight stemmed from the District of
Carrisbrooke Castle, a location very close to Gatcombe on a faraway English island. An extra detail was recorded
in the papers that the sword of Sir Estur was seen and it was noted that a magical stone was embedded within
its hilt.

The story continued that the faithful Lucy struggled to have the happy life she yearned for with the valiant Edward
and during an ambiguous battle, he sustained a severe head injury. With no recollection of who he was or where
he was, Sir Edward was shipped back to his family home to recover.
Unfortunately Lucy was not told of this and so she mourned under the impression that he was killed in battle.

The years passed and Sir Edward never did recover fully. But for Lucy, she picked up her life again and married
a local Sicilian, living out the rest of years as the wife of a farmer.
...............................

An example of time travel through love or just some jumbling of instances that lead to a false conclusion?
Only Lucy Lightfoot knows for sure.

[Ninurta]

That last tale sounds an awful lot like the plot for "Timeline", a movie made from a book by Michael Crichton. I wonder if the tale inspired him?

.

[BIAD]

That last tale sounds an awful lot like the plot for "Timeline", a movie made from a book by Michael Crichton. I wonder if the tale inspired him?

Wikipedia has the tale as a hoax!

"...In the 1960s, the Vicar of St Olave's, James Evans, admitted to having fabricated the entire story.[1]..."

Clicking on the '1' Reference link, I got a 'Google 404 error'.



Spooky!

[PLOTUS]

About all I know about Britain is the Queen. Queen Elizabeth ROCKS, I am Fond of her. Sherlock Holmes is in the top three or four favorites. British cars are shit. But Look Good...  People kiss a stone upside down..... uk, germy.... the 'Blarny Stone' and they have bichin train trips that take several days to navigate around the Island. Got'a wear a 
Tux at one of them !.
I generally like Brits, and lothe the Muslim Envasion they face..... 

And the Beer....:) 

[BIAD]

The plot thickens... the chap who is mentioned in the Wikipedia link regarding the Lucy Lightfoot
story being an admitted hoax is an author and computer scientist called Richard Jones.
But any leads fizzled out and it seems Jack The Ripper was his favourite topic to write about!

However, with a little research, I found that this website St.Olaves states:

'...ln 1959 the then Rector, the Revd James Evans concocted a legend about a girl called Lucy Lightfoot who
disappeared in a storm whilst in the church and was said to have gone back in time to be with the crusader.
This fictitious legend proved very popular, with books written and films made about the story.

The small dog at the crusader's feet is said to come to life every hundred years and dance down the church
path in the moonlight!!...'

Nah... I need more proof than just a website's say-so!!!!


(Onwards)

[BIAD]

About all I know about Britain is the Queen. Queen Elizabeth ROCKS, I am Fond of her. Sherlock Holmes is in the top three or four favorites. British cars are shit. But Look Good...  People kiss a stone upside down..... uk, germy.... the 'Blarny Stone' and they have bichin train trips that take several days to navigate around the Island. Got'a wear a 
Tux at one of them !.
I generally like Brits, and lothe the Muslim Envasion they face..... 

And the Beer....:) 

When all this plandemic is over, take a trip to the Isle of Man, the feel of it is Britain forty years ago!


By the way, the MSM recently said that the Queen was to stand down next year and hand over the crown to
Prince Charles.

2nd Nov 2020 The Express:

"...Queen abdication: Monarch 'to STEP DOWN' next year – Charles on verge of becoming King"
Link:
........................................................
However...

12th Nov 2020 The BBC:

Queen's Platinum Jubilee to include extra bank holiday

'A "once-in-a-generation show" over a four-day bank holiday weekend will mark the Queen's Platinum
Jubilee in 2022. The Queen, 94, hopes as many people as possible across the UK will have the opportunity
to join the celebrations, Buckingham Palace said.

She will have reigned for 70 years on 6 February 2022 but plans are in place to stage a series of events from 2-5 June.
Culture Secretary Oliver Dowden said it would be a "truly historic moment" and deserved a "celebration to remember".
He added it would "bring the entire nation and the Commonwealth together."

The events will reflect the Queen's reign, the longest of any British sovereign, and her impact on the UK and the world
since her accession to the throne in 1952...'
Link:
........................................................

Methinks the media are just full of sh*t!!!

[BIAD]

For purely selfish reasons, the next participant for the British myths comes from a place quite close
to where I live and among the many supernatural entities that haunt the North-East of England.

This one is a Bogle -a term that comes from Scotland and is the name of a Goblin-like creature
that some have the power to shape-shift. In my neck of the woods, one of these grotesque beings
is known as 'The Hedley Kow'.

Before you query that I misspelled the name, I haven't. I suspect one of it's manifestations was
an actual cow and being a legend from way before writing abilities reached the northern environs
of Britain, the tale used a phonetic title.

The legend. (Well, one of them!)

Along the unpaved country lanes of Hedley on the Hill - a village of Northumberland, it is said an
old lady was out collecting sticks for her fire when coming across a favourable twig, she picked
it up and placed it in her basket.

Before long the basket became heavier and heavier until she could no longer carry it and the old woman
dropped it to the ground in exhaustion, spilling the load out across the road.

The stick that had earlier caught her eye then jumped up and began to gambol away in the style of a folk
dance, swaying side to side and after some distance from the old women the lively branch gave out a
hoarse laugh before fading away.

Fine... but no cow.

The Legend. (Take Two)

Ebchester is a small village in County Durham that existed though the times of many reigns of control.
The church in Ebchester is said to be founded by Æbbe of Coldingham, the daughter of Æthelfrith,
the first king of Northumbria. Yet, the hamlet's current name undoubtedly comes from Roman times.

In around 1800, two young men from Ebchester were all dressed up in their best gear and having
arranged to meet their girlfriends down by the river Derwent, they set off into the evening with a
spring in their step and a glint in their eyes.

On reaching the banks of the river, they saw their girlfriends ahead of them walking arm and arm.
However, they were walking away from the two young men. Calling to the girls, the men ran to catch
up, but no matter how much they tried, the girls stayed ahead of them.

Focusing on their goal, the men suddenly found themselves knee deep in slimy mud and as they
struggled, the girls disappeared in a wisp of smoke and the air was filled with booming laughter.

Scrambling out of the mire, the men realised that they had been tricked by the Kow and the frightened
pair ran for home. Stumbling through the darkness, they could hear the Kow pursuing them, laughing
and taunting them all the way.

One of the men stumbled into the river Derwent between Ebchester and Hamsterley Hall and in climbing
out, collided with his friend who was tumbling head over heels down the bank towards the water.
In the gloom, the terrified pair scrambled over each other believing the Kow was on top of them.
Realising what had happened they both got up, found their footing and ran to the safety of home.

The Legend. (Family Friendly!).

A recent tale -or at least spoken of in the last century, was offered that catered more for children than
just a general myth to warn everyone. This involved the old lady again.

Our familiar old woman was once again walking the road that led to Hedley on the Hill when presumably
ignoring any kindling for her fire, her eyes alighted on a pot of gold sitting in the middle of the road.
Looking around and seeing no one near she decided to take it home.

Arriving back at her cottage -which we'll assume had no fire in its hearth, she noticed that the gold had
turned into silver. Her original intentions were to hand the gold over to the local constabulary in case it
was stolen, but now confused by her precious find, she decided to keep it!

Looking at the pot of silver, she sees the metal transform into iron and being ever the optimist, sighs and
believes the block of iron in the pot will be -at least, easier to sell at the market.

With a grunt of resignation, the old woman reaches into the pot and plucking out the iron, the chunk of heavy
metal turns into a stone which begins to wriggle in her hand. In fright, she drops it to the floor and the rock
dances across her floor and laughs as it rolls out of the cottage.

The tale ends with the old women not becoming upset and instead, chuckles to herself thinking how lucky
it was for to finally have met the Kow in person.

I suppose the moral of the tale is either always look on the bright side of life or stay off the 'shrooms'.
.................................................

But the Hedley Kow has some redeemable features, it never encroached on anyone in mourning or dealing
with great sadness. During births, it sometimes showed itself in one form or another, usually frightening the
horse of the soon-to-be father racing for the midwife.

Occasionally, the Kow would also take delight in knocking on the door of the prospective parents and when
the door was opened, the mocking sprite would disappear.

The little sod also liked to mimic voices, appearing at windows of the servant girls in the manor houses of the
area pretending to be their lovers or shouting down the hallways in their masters voices.

And finally, The shape-shifting trickster would sometimes appear as a dairy cow and would continuously avoid
the milkmaids attempt to catch it before disappearing with its familiar laugh.

So maybe that's how it got its name!

[Wallfire]

About all I know about Britain is the Queen. Queen Elizabeth ROCKS, I am Fond of her. Sherlock Holmes is in the top three or four favorites. British cars are shit. But Look Good...  People kiss a stone upside down..... uk, germy.... the 'Blarny Stone' and they have bichin train trips that take several days to navigate around the Island. Got'a wear a 
Tux at one of them !.
I generally like Brits, and lothe the Muslim Envasion they face..... 

And the Beer....:) 

If I remember right the Blarny stone is in Ireland, if you are ever there please dont say its British as you might find yourself hanging by your private parts from a near by tree

[BIAD]

Staying in the North-East of England, there's a dark tale of a creature known in the area of Northumberland
as 'The Duegar.' Described as an ugly dwarf, this odd-being is said to inhabit the heavily-wooded land known
as Simonside Hills, a part of the spine of Britain known as the Pennines hills.


Simonside and The Little Church Rock.

The craggy skyline looks down on ancient and managed forest, where burial cairns marked with forgotten
prehistoric art hunker down among wind-blown heather. Here -it is said, dwells the Duegar.


Just on the outskirts of Scotland is the home of the Duegar.

In the past, wary travellers of the narrow track-ways would watch for the lanterns of the malicious Duegar that
hoped to lure wayfarers from their desired path. Assuming a nearby cottage would satisfy their weariness,
a careless pilgrim would walk towards the light and find themselves falling into a rocky ravine or being swallowed
by an unseen marsh.

Nineteenth century texts tell of a wanderer crossing the moorland of Simonside and finding a hut, the traveller
decided to get in out of the weather and entered the shack. Warming himself up with a small fire, he notices
a small humanoid figure enter the structure and sit down beside the hearth.

Glad of the company, the traveller struggles to draw a conversation from the little person and eventually resigns
himself to his own thoughts among the flames. As the dawn arrived, the drowsing man took stock of his surroundings
and observed that the dwarf had disappeared along with the hut, the traveller now found himself on a rocky precipice
inches from his demise.

The Duegar, not a nice bugger!

[BIAD]

Just across from the Isle of Wight, Portsmouth sits on the edge of the southern English coast in the county of
Hampshire that is a port city that holds a mystery that is rarely mentioned. Favoured from the Romans to
Horatio Nelson, Portsmouth boasts many of its residents that went on to make their mark in history.



Charles Dickens, H.G. Wells and Arthur Conan Doyle are only a few of the renown scribblers from Great
Britain's only island municipality. In the geographical sense, Portsmouth was and still is an ideal naval
advantage and is seen as a collection of estuary lakes with raised land that are technically classed as islands.

Yet there's another resident of the coastal borough, someone who's passage didn't bring applause and wonder.
However I'd guess the man of the cloth who witnessed this strange figure would certainly draw a gasp of awe.

It was 1798, the year of Naploeon's antics, the birth of slave-trader Mary Faber and when The Cherokee nation
said warily that it was okay to use the Cumberland Gap. A time of busy wharfs and noisy taverns and when smoking
was forbidden on the docks due to the amount of stored wood and other valuable exports.

In the small rural parish of Farlington -that has sadly now been absorbed into the growing surroundings of Portsmouth,
someone called Henry Albert Brand listened to an account that would raise eyebrows and make one wonder what
their 18th century reality truly was.

Brand was a bookbinder and in his free time, he visited the hamlets and villages of Hampshire in order to chronicle
personal histories and local stories of interest. On 6th September 1798, an entry in Brand's private diary made a
reference to one of these tales that -as of writing this, has never been explained.

There's scant information about the incidents, but here goes.

With Autumn leaves decorating the country lanes near the small village of Farlington and the noon sun struggling to
warm the surrounding farmlands, an unnamed Vicar was conducting his duties by -presumably, making house-calls.
Looking through the fading foliage, the Priest observed:

"A human with metal skin who stood no more that 4 feet in height, with a sturdy, muscular body and a large bulky head.
His eyes were described as being like brightly polished shillings, “glistering” in the midday sun.
He had no mouth, no nose and no ears and he wore no clothes."

Brand provided a lengthy and highly detailed account of the panic this creature caused in the surrounding environs,
but this wasn't the only sighting of the phenomena known as 'The Copper Man'.

Continuing with his collecting of stories, Henry Albert Brand noted in a later entry that the creature had been spotted
again, near the now reclaimed land of Tipner Lake.
Today, this 'lake' is the north eastern section of Portsmouth Harbour.

This second account stated:
"A young farmer’s maid had been harvesting wild fennel when she beheld a man “of metal flesh” arise from the waters
of the bay and walk several meters, before retracing his footsteps and submerging beneath the still surface again."

Ludicrous some said about the accounts in the private diary, the ravings of a mad-man said others.
A man made of copper metal walking the countryside and frightening young milk-maids?!
Then came the discovery of a letter written by a Dr Geoffrey Bramwell, attesting to another panic in Portsmouth that
focused on a flying metal man.

In 1801, a group of a dozen or so Portsmouth townsfolk gathered at an open air marketplace near the city centre of
Portsmouth with the focus on exchanging goods and produce.

As the sellers were laying out their wares, a shriek of fear was heard from a local candle-maker, apparently a cry so
so loud that it caused a delicate hat-maker in the market to faint! 
The cause of the screech...? the Copper Man was back.

From a nearby clump of trees, the bizarre creature emerged and 'like a golden bird', launched itself into the sky
and flew away. It's skin of copper shining in the morning sun and the residents of Portsmouth watching with mouths
agape.

And the ending to the tale? There isn't one, the Copper Man was never seen again.