Myths Of Great Britain.

[BIAD]

Hi @BIAD,
The Afanc cropped up in a thread I participated in on the "other site" some years back!
Interestingly... the beast was likely originally associated with Global catastrophe rather than just local folklore...

Interesting... I will look further into it.

[Ninurta]

My ma's people were little dark Welshmen. Her pa was a coal miner, and had 40 years in the mines under his belt, following tradition I suppose, even across the intervening ocean. I've never heard this tale before, but it causes me to cast a jaundiced eye at my Welsh ancestry... why did no one think to pull the beastie up a short ramp and onto a wagon or cart, anything with wheels? had they done so, that poor ox might not have had to sacrifice an eye to save all of the valley and most of Wales!

For my money, that poor dumb brutish beast of an ox was the hero of the tale, despite the squabbling Welshmen vying for primacy. None of THEM popped an eyeball for the homeland!

.

[BIAD]

My ma's people were little dark Welshmen. Her pa was a coal miner, and had 40 years in the mines under his belt, following tradition I suppose, even across the intervening ocean. I've never heard this tale before, but it causes me to cast a jaundiced eye at my Welsh ancestry... why did no one think to pull the beastie up a short ramp and onto a wagon or cart, anything with wheels? had they done so, that poor ox might not have had to sacrifice an eye to save all of the valley and most of Wales!

For my money, that poor dumb brutish beast of an ox was the hero of the tale, despite the squabbling Welshmen vying for primacy. None of THEM popped an eyeball for the homeland!

The half-blind ox did get a lake named after it... so I suppose that's something.

[F2d5thCav]

My ma's people were little dark Welshmen. Her pa was a coal miner, and had 40 years in the mines under his belt, following tradition I suppose, even across the intervening ocean. I've never heard this tale before, but it causes me to cast a jaundiced eye at my Welsh ancestry... why did no one think to pull the beastie up a short ramp and onto a wagon or cart, anything with wheels? had they done so, that poor ox might not have had to sacrifice an eye to save all of the valley and most of Wales!

For my money, that poor dumb brutish beast of an ox was the hero of the tale, despite the squabbling Welshmen vying for primacy. None of THEM popped an eyeball for the homeland!

The half-blind ox did get a lake named after it... so I suppose that's something.

@BIAD

Is that where we get oxbow lakes from? 

Cheers

[BIAD]

On Page 2 of this thread, there was an article involving this phenomena of Ireland...



Here's a chat between three people, where two have done far-more investigation into the lough monsters.
There's an interesting comment regarding the name 'Horse Eel' that could've been a corruption of the title
'Horse Seal'.

It's an interesting chat.

[BIAD]

I haven't done one of these in a while, but here's a tale you might like considering the recent G7 meeting near there.


The 'Morgawr' legend has been ripped to pieces because of one Tony 'Doc' Shiels, an old man from the Manchester area
of England and now sees out his twilight years in the quiet village of Ponsanooth, Cornwall. Shiels was a magician in the
county and late became a bit of an author. The only down-side was that the subject he wrote about, were things that the
more practical of us would scoff at.

In the seventies and with the aid of some naked witches, Doc attempted to bring Cornwall's version of Nessie to the surface
He called it Morgawr and for the summer, the media ate it up.

During his 'golden time', Mr Shiels also reported on the Owlman of Mawnan that was scaring folk in a churchyard. Doc even
went to Loch Ness and offered two distinct photographs that he captured, to the Press. But even though they'd publish his
images, they just didn't trust him as authentic.

Here's Doc's pair of Nessie photos.


..............................................................................

The day a sea monster 'half-mermaid half-whale' washed up on Porthleven beach

'Some described it as having a human-like head on a 48ft body. Others said it could be a mermaid.
One thing is certain, something washed up on Porthleven beach long ago and it terrified the villagers.

The hair-raising event happened on September 14, 1786, during a violent storm.
Two local boys were running around Porthleven beach, looking for shipwrecks, when they discovered an 'enormous' creature.
The story was shared upcountry in the old weekly newspaper Hereford Journal in October of the same year. It was reported by
a man from Cornwall who related how villagers slew the unknown beast.

Called 'Sea Monster', the article reads: "A just and particular description of a very curious and most surprising sea monster driven
on shore in Portleaven Bay (sic), on the coast of Cornwall, on the 14th of Sept. 1786, by the strong westerly winds and tempestuous
weather, which continued to a violent degree for several days successively, and did much damage at that place and neighbourhood.

"This monster was first discovered by two boys who (agreeable to the custom of that place) went in search of wreck soon after day
break; and as they stood on the cliff which commanded a prospect of a small sandy cove, they, at a distance of about a mile,
discovered something of enormous hulk near the shore, and which after a short time they apprehended to be the side or part
of an unfortunate ship which had the preceding night been broken to pieces by the extremities of the shore.

They immediately went towards the place with sanguine expectation of great success, and as they approached the spot
(the breaking waves at times leaving it dry) they were both struck with the utmost consternation to perceive such motions
as it was something which had life."

Terrified, the boys ran towards a group of men they knew and told them what they had witnessed.
The men did not believe them at first, but eventually decided to follow them and see the monster for themselves.

"A great number of people soon collected themselves into a body, and determined to go armed, some with large sticks and pokers,
others with hatchets, spits, etc, which was, after some deliberation, carried into execution," the article reports.
"On their coming near the spot they perceived it to be something living, as was represented, and it raised its head, which had not
before been perceived, and appeared to direct its course towards them.

All were alarmed – some stood their ground, others possessed of greater fear turned back, they could see no legs to it, but it appeared
to crawl on its belly, raising its body at times a little from the sand."
No one knew what the animal was.

"Various were the opinions about this creature; some said it was a mermaid, others a whale – but the greater number disbelieving
the existence of the former, and adhering to the improbability of the latter, they were all equally at a loss," the story reports
"When it was agreed to examine what it was, they all went towards it, and after an hour’s beating, stabbing it, etc, it expired with a groan.

Its length was found to be from the top of its head to the end of its tail, 48 feet to inches, and its circumference in the largest part of the
body 24 feet and a half. Its head was large, and prickly in the hinder part, and not formed much unlike that of a man; its eyes were greenish;
its mouth large; its nose flat, and from its neck to the navel, resembling nearest to the human kind; its back was hard and more difficult to
penetrate than the shell of a turtle; it had two short fore feet, formed like the paw of a monkey, and its hinder parts shaped measured full
seven feet in width at the extent, and but five feet long."

It is not known what was done with the body of the creature, or if anyone studied it.
"It is supposed a large quantity of oil will be produced from it, which, with the shell of its back, and its fins, are judged, if properly managed,
to be of great value, and will be of considerable benefit to this neighbourhood," the Cornish man who sent the article added.
"No one that has seen it knows its name, nor has any monster like it ever been described in record, or come within the knowledge of this
kingdom."

The description of the strange creature sounds very similar to a spooky sea serpent many have spotted in the Cornish waters over the years.
Called Morgawr, it is said to slither its way through the sea and live off Falmouth Bay.

Described as a long-necked beast with dark skin and humps on its back, it has been - reportedly - seen several times in the last 140 years.

Timeline:

1876
The sea serpent was allegedly caught alive in Gerrans Bay. Two fishermen were afloat overhauling their crab pots about
400-500 yards from the shore when they discovered the serpent coiled about their floating cork.
Upon their approach it lifted its neck and showed signs of defiance. They struck it forcibly with an oar.

They then observed the serpent floating about near their boat and pursued it, bringing it ashore yet alive for exhibition.
Soon after it was killed on the rocks and most inconsiderately cast again into the sea.

1926
Fishermen, Mr Reese and Mr Gilbert, trawling in Falmouth Bay, almost caught a weird “beaked” creature, 20ft long.
But the beast escaped, tearing their nets.

1934
A monster was seen in Whitsand Bay

Early summer of 1937
A Mylor woman saw a “large snake-like creature swimming in the sea” near her home.

1944
Fishermen accompanied by a 13-year-old boy are said to have seen Morgawr off Fowey Point.

July 5, 1949
In a tidal creek, Harold T Wilkins and a friend saw “two remarkable saurians, 15-20ft long, just like a pair of Mesozoic
plesiosaur”.

1975
Two witnesses saw ‘a hideous hum-backed creature’ off Pendennis Point.

September 1975
Falmouth woman, Mrs Scott and her friend, Mr Riley, were enjoying a stroll on Pendennis Point when they saw in the
clear water below, a large, hump-backed long-necked sea monster.

It had rounded, stump-like horns on the top of its head and down the back of its neck a ridge of short bristles.
The creature dived and shortly afterwards resurfaced with a writhing conger eel in its jaws.
Mrs Scott said she would “never forget the face on that thing”.

1976
Fishermen in Falmouth and Helford blame Morgawr for low catches, damaged gear and all kinds of ill-fortune.

March 5, 1976


Photo taken by “Mary F” from Trefusis Point.

“I would say it was 15-18ft long (the part showing above the water).
"It looked like an elephant waving its trunk, but the trunk was a long neck with a small head on the end, like a snake’s head.
"It had humps on the back which moved in a funny way.

"The colour was black or very dark brown and the skin seemed to be like a sea-lion’s.
"I’m glad to know that other people have seen the great Cornish sea serpent. As a matter of fact the animal frightened me.
"I would not like to see it any closer. I did not like the way it moved when swimming.”

September 1976
Two holidaymakers, Allan and Sally White, from Gloucestershire, see a brown “something” 15-20ft long, slide into the water
from Grebe Beach, Falmouth.

August 11, 1976
Art student Patrick Dolan from Cardiff was sailing from Falmouth to Kinsale when he encountered Morgawr 30 miles NNW
of the Scillies. “I could see quite distinctly a kind of worm-like shape in the water and the neck was about eight feet out of the
water.

"It was about 40ft long and propelled itself with an undulating movement. It was moving at 10-12 knots and overtook me.
"I must have had it in my vision for about 20 minutes.”

1999



A former Natural History Museum worker claimed he captured the Morgawr or a dinosaur thought to have died out 65 million
years ago on camera. In 2002, John Holmes released the strange footage which he had filmed three years prior in Gerrans Bay,
off the Roseland Peninsula.

He believed that the creature could have been a plesiosaur -a long-necked, marine reptile with four paddle-like limbs, thought to
have become extinct. Mr Holmes, who lived in Sticker near St Austell, said at the time: "My pet theory is that it was a living fossil.
I think that there is a group of plesiosaurs going around in the oceans of the world.
"All around Britain there have been sightings of sea serpents."

He said the footage showed the head of a 2.2-metre long creature, rising about one metre above the water.
Mr Holmes, who worked as a higher scientific officer at the Natural History Museum for 19 years, said that he had waited so long
to release the film for fear of being ridiculed.

But, after showing it to experts during the last year, they all seemed puzzled as to the creature's identity.
"What caught my attention was the bizarre movement out to sea," he said.
"The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. It wasn't gargantuan, but big enough to rule out marine birds."

May 2002
Two experienced seamen claimed they might have seen Morgawr near the Manacles off The Lizard.

Dan Matthew, who worked at the time for Cornwall Sea Fisheries, and then 82-year-old fisherman George Vinnicombe,
were amazed to discover that they had both seen an unidentified creature while out in their boats in a similar area the
previous week.

Dan had been aboard a small boarding boat, and was travelling from the Manacles towards Maenporth at around 10.30am
when he saw something strange. “I said to the fisheries officer that there was something a bit weird in the water and as we
got a bit closer I saw this huge head.

"As we got within 100 yards its neck was completely out of the water but when it saw us coming its neck fell from a vertical
position and made quite a big splash. It was grey/black in colour. "I’ve boated in the Fal for many years and I’ve never seen
anything like this. I’ve seen lots of dolphins and whales but it wasn’t either of those.”

Days later, Mike Bedford, then chief engineer aboard the patrol boat, was at the quay side in Falmouth and was chatting to
George Vinnicombe. “He said he had seen something unusual. There was no way he could have heard about what we had
seen.”

George, who also claimed to have seen Morgawr in the 1970s, said at the time: “I was about a mile north of the Manacles and
saw what looked like a very large fin, up to three feet in length. It was too big for a basking shark. The way it moved through the
water was unusual.”

Marine and zoology experts later said that Mr Holmes' sea serpent was actually probably a sunfish.
One of them said: “I’ve no doubt Mr Holmes was convinced he had filmed a mystery sea creature, and it was a reasonable mistake
to make, but sea life experts who have seen the video agree that it is, in fact, a sunfish.”

Mr Holmes then replied: "Personally, I’m totally convinced that what I saw was not a sunfish.
The experts are entitled to their view but I was there and I know what I saw – a creature with a very mobile head on a long neck.

“I have studied the film for a very long time trying to work out what it could be and I think it’s a shame that the experts have once
again so easily dismissed it with the explanation that it’s a sunfish.”...'

Cornwall Live:

[BIAD]

There was a tune I recalled from my school-days called 'Widecombe Fair' (pronounced wid-ee-comb) and too-long ago,
I looked-up the lyrics of the Devon folk song. I'm not from that area of England, but the words in the verse -names of certain
men and always in order, were supposedly people going to the fair in the little village on Dartmoor and that list has always
stuck with me.

"Bill Brewer, Jan Stewer, Peter Gurney, Peter Davy, Dan'l Whiddon, Harry Hawke, Old Uncle Tom Cobley and all."

But there was one name that would never appear in that list of Widecombe residents, and that was Jan Reynolds.
By all accounts, Reynolds was a bad man and someone who the more fairer residents of Widecombe in the Moor knew to
steer clear of.

Known for his heavy bouts of drinking, womanising and gambling, the rough young tin miner found that his wild lifestyle was
catching up with him and to solve the problem of being always short of money to sustain his behaviour, he made a pact with
the Devil.

For the price of his soul, Jan Reynolds acquired a pot of gold and with his debts paid, he continued to frolic in his merriment.
The years passed by and the little hamlet continued to be a playground for the rowdy roughneck. But accounts always need
to be settled and when it comes to the King of Hell, nobody gets a pass.

One Sunday morning, those of Widecombe who prefer to not listen to the threats of damnation from the pulpit, often took to
visiting the little tavern called The Tavistock Inn. Far enough away from the church, the local men could sate their thirsts and
and chew the cud without a Priest clucking indignantly at their conduct.
But this particular warm Sunday, The Tavistock Inn would receive a new guest to try their ale.

The sound of galloping grew louder to those idling near the doorway and seeking an answer to who would be hurriedly visiting
their quiet little village, some of the men looked out into the morning sunlight. The horse was huge and the colour of midnight
and with sparks spitting from its hooves, the wide-eyed steed was brought to a halt by its rider.

Dismounting, the patrons of the Inn could see the stranger wore attire the same hue as his mount. Head-to-toe, all black and
all wrapped in a menacing air. Without a word, the tall newcomer purposefully strode into the tavern and stood silently at the
counter, whilst surveying the gawking men looking back.

The landlady, forever looking for custom, poured the stoic stranger a tankard of ale which he promptly paid for with a gold coin.
With stares of astonishment, the surrounding men were amazed to see such a sum of money and offered features of alarm as
they also heard a sizzling noise coming from the stranger's throat as he quaffed his brew.
With one final look around the bar the man in black finished his drink and strode out.

As the sound of galloping hooves faded, one of the locals asked to see the stranger's gold coin and so the landlady reached into
her cash box. To her and the boozing men's bewilderment, she found only a few pennies and a pile of dry, withered leaves where
she had put the golden guinea.
..................................................

The church of St Pancras -a hallowed building that proudly boasted a 120-foot granite tower, found on the same day that the local
Inn had been visited by the stranger, the shadow of Jan Reynolds staining the gravel path to its entrance. The care-free rogue had
his eye on a certain church-going milkmaid and enduring a sermon of how sin wasn't a virtue, Reynolds believed was a small price
to pay for a possible tumble in the hay.

Ignoring the warnings of burning in the flames of perdition, Jan passed the time by idly playing with a pack of cards.
The Vicar's lecture of everlasting torment droned on and soon the young tin miner's eyelids grew heavy. Not long after he fell alseep.

Then a sudden flash of lightening lit-up the windows of the church. A loud crack of thunder announced a storm had arrived in the village
of Widecombe and moments later, dust and debris showered down on the screaming congregation from the church's ornate roof bosses
that decorated the interior of the tower. The Devil had arrived. 

Without announcement, Lucifer strode over to where the sleeping figure of Jan Reynolds was and picked him up. Some witnesses later
reported that the Dark Lord crushed Reynolds' skull to a pulp before flying back up to the hole in the belfry.

Outside, the fleeing parishioners look towards the roof of St Pancras and saw the Devil's wild-looking mount tethered to one of the churches
pinnacles. With total disregard for his audience below, the Antichrist threw the tin miner's body across the horse's neck  and then leapt on
the animals back.

Tearing away part of the stone spire, the Devil rode off across the sky, leaving the terrified people evading the falling rubble.
Those who weren't at church that day, reported that they saw the ominous figure of Lucifer passing over Birch Tor Mine and climbing higher
into the storm clouds.

As the tempest abated, four playing cards belonging to Jan Reynolds fell from his pocket and fluttered down onto the moor, east of the
Birch Tor Mine. The imprints of where the four aces landed can still be seen today and stand as a warning to those who dare to gamble
in church.

[BIAD]

Here's one I've never heard of before.




Weird!



The Isle of Wight is known for many strange tales.

[Ninurta]

Here's one I've never heard of before.




Weird!



The Isle of Wight is known for many strange tales.

Isle of Wight? As I recall from game of Thrones, "wights" are sort of undead zombies...

A Wail? Like the Mexican la Llorona? Or an Irish Bhean-sidhe?

Out from under a bridge? Like a troll?

"I am all colors" - even the ones we can't see? Hmm?

"Fay" and her father both having encounters - I have read that some families tend to have these experiences run in the family, used as evidence to support the notion that genetic experimentation is going on, running through generations of the same families.

I am reminded by this of the "creepy clown hysteria" we had here about 4 or 5 years ago, where people were claiming to see creepy clowns everywhere.

.

[BIAD]

Isle of Wight? As I recall from game of Thrones, "wights" are sort of undead zombies...

A Wail? Like the Mexican la Llorona? Or an Irish Bhean-sidhe?

Out from under a bridge? Like a troll?

"I am all colors" - even the ones we can't see? Hmm?

"Fay" and her father both having encounters - I have read that some families tend to have these experiences run in the family, used as evidence to support the notion that genetic experimentation is going on, running through generations of the same families.

I am reminded by this of the "creepy clown hysteria" we had here about 4 or 5 years ago, where people were claiming to see creepy clowns everywhere.

Sam, The Sandown Clown.

Location: Near Shanklin & Sandown Golf Club on the Isle of Wight, England and the rarely-used Sandown Airport.
Date: Spring 1973. Time: Late afternoon.

Humanoid description.
Two arms, two legs, head, hands and torso all average for a human. Body said to look slim or thin.
------------------------------------------
Height: Over six-and-a-half foot tall (2 metres).
------------------------------------------
Head: Described as being too large considering shoulders and spherical-shaped.
------------------------------------------
Hair: Reddish-brown strands from beneath hat. When hat was removed, scalp slightly bald.
------------------------------------------
Ears: Two, white and round.
------------------------------------------
Facial Features: 'Poorly-painted' two blue triangles for eyes, brown triangle for nose and mouth with thin yellow
lips. Mouth did not move whilst speaking. Round markings were observed on cheeks.
------------------------------------------
Hands: 'Paper' colour -same as head, but sported dark-blue gloves. Only three fingers on each hand.
------------------------------------------
Feet: bare. Three toes.
------------------------------------------
Feeding Habits: Drank water from nearby stream after 'cleaning it' and ate berries by placing fruit in an ear and 'juggling'
the food around inside its head until it reached an unseen interior area. Berry was seen in eye aperture.
------------------------------------------
Attire: Tall pointed yellow hat with black protuberance on point. Assumed 'wooden antennae' on each side of hat.
Clothes were a high-collared, one-piece suit of red and green. Legs and sleeves described as 'frilly' with thin, narrow pieces
of wood protruding from beneath sleeves and leggings of the suit. No neck visible as collar and hat seemed connected like
a hood. Clothing slightly tattered. Trousers were reported as white.
------------------------------------------
Behaviour: Friendly and slightly shy. Admitted it avoided human contact. When running, used a high-kneed hopping gait.
When followed back to its assumed home, the entity alarmed the children with a loud siren-sound and afterwards asked
via a microphone (with attached wire and speaker): "Are you still here?". Which is surprising considering the sight of the
witnesses was obvious. 
------------------------------------------
Speech: Spoke English, accent unstated. Reportedly described itself as 'all colours' and not human. However, suggested
when asked if it was a ghost: ' "Well, not really, but I am in an odd sort of way."
Reportedly titled itself 'Sam'. When asked about the state of its damaged 'clothes', the entity replied that was because these
clothes were all it had.
All other questions were answered with "You know."
The entity added at some point that it had another 'secret camp' on the English mainland.
Notable Function: It could write in English using a pencil and paper.
------------------------------------------
Equipment: A microphone or tannoy system, through which it spoke for a short time.
Believed to be the source of the ambulance-like siren heard by the children. (UK Ambulance siren in 1973 different from US,
a factor that is important as children recognised the sound.)

A book, which was dropped into the stream and later used to name itself.
(Scrawled in the book seen by the girl-witness as: “Hello and I am all colours, Sam.”)
Since we're assured the witnesses were English, the use of the 'U' in the word 'colour' is relevant to how this supposed entity
thought and why no comment of the lack of the letter was later emphasised.
------------------------------------------
Habitat: A two story hut -Often perceived as a 'Nissen Hut' and similar to Quonset hut in the United States. A prefabricated steel
structure once used by the military in WWI and II. Regularly found at airfields.


Style of building.

Windowless and access was through 'a flap' in the side of building. The children needed to crawl through to gain access.
Located in a wooded area close to a lake (probably a flooded pond from river Yar).
Walls of lower-room were papered with blue-green dial patterns and whose floors were metallic. Upper-floor bare with metal floor.
The hut also contained rough wooden furniture which was described as being similar to a table and a set of chairs.
Also an electric heater.
------------------------------------------
A later inspection of the location by adults found no building or evidence of a construction.
Nearby workmen during the alleged incident claimed to have not heard or seen anything unusual that day.
------------------------------------------
Assumption:
Not enough first-hand facts and has a hint of modern-day influence.

[Ninurta]

Oops. Wrong thread. Still searching for the right one. Need... more... coffee...


,
.

[BIAD]

Oops. Wrong thread. Still searching for the right one. Need... more... coffee...

There's a freshly-made pot just over near... oh, sorry.

[BIAD]

Oh goodie-goodie!!! I found one originally made in 1974.

[BIAD]

Some of our Rogue members may have read my tales regarding the Last Witch of Underhill called Peggy Powler.
I've mentioned it a couple of times, but due to other connections to the bare-footed sorceress name's origins, I will relate it
once more. But the yarn below holds the diadem of not only being true, it nudges to the reader that linkages can take one
into realms never mused on when first setting foot on the track of investigation.

Wikipedia would tell you, 'Peg Powler' is a water-spirit that is supposed to dwell in England's North-East River Tees, a place
close to my current abode. Accused of the usual tricks performed by river-hags, Peg Powler will snatch children who stray
too-close to the fast-running waters or the slow deeper parts of the river.

Folklore says this weed-festooned harridan has a sister or daughter who lurks in a tributary of the Tees called Nanny Powler.
If true, this aquatic kiddie-grabbing relative is now waiting for her prey only a hundred feet from where I type as I can see the
River Skerne from the roof of Boy In A Dress' garden shed!

So I took a name that -to myself, smacked of an every-day, blue-collar-type of title for a regular person who travelled a rustic
agrarian land and interacted with magic and the mundane lives of country-folk. But looking back on the name of the little Witch
in my stories, the river where the primary creature inhabited held other tales that were littered with better prose than I could
ever disgorge!

When I was a kid of around eight or nine (Jeez, that's well over half-a-century ago!), my friend and I decided to create for a
school project, the Coat of Arms of our town via the use of paper-mache, basically a mixture of glue and paper. But before
we could even start tearing-up strips of the newspaper I would eventually work for, we needed to do something we had only
thought grown-ups did, something called 'research'.


Darlington's Coat Of Arms.

Through the rare act of fact-finding in books written by-and-for adults, my friend and I discovered a world of the magic that
most children would believe only existed in their small, poorly-constructed and perilous environs. Flying reptilian creatures
that tore flesh and ravaged kingdoms, cruel conniving people who found wicked ends to their lives for their behaviour and
wealthy Elites who ruled through the power of knowing how to herd a population with the correct wordage.

But in our goal to identify the parts of our Coat of Arms, we came across a monster that -even today, watches with blood-red
eyes from the walls of my town's seventies-style Council Hall.

The sword-damaged 'Dragon' in my town's crest is classified as a Wyvern and on the opposite side of the dexter, a crowned
lion that is a representation of nobility and royalty. Being of a certain age, the Wyvern piqued our interest as -seeing the strange
-looking weapon jutting from its shoulder, hinted something had happened locally that our ex-WWII airman-of-a-teacher had not
told us about.

So instead of racing out into the surrounding woodlands -a regular dido for a weekend, myself and my fellow-finder struck out to
visit a place uncommon for working-class kids who constantly smelled of wild herbage and knee-injury ointment.
Those grown-ups I mentioned, call it a 'Library'.
.................................................

The simplified tale we initially learned was that where the River Tees left the built-up areas of my town, a monster roamed the
heavy woodland that corridored the peaty waters towards a village a few miles away. At the time of reading, we did not know
that this little quiet hamlet held a different boast of its own, that of being the residence of a Deacon's eldest son called Charles
Lutwidge Dodgson. This intelligent lad would grow up to leave his picturesque home in Croft-on-Tees, change his name and
scribe an outlandish children's novel titled 'Alice's Adventures in Wonderland'.

Back to the beastie. The Wyvern was -as Peggy Powler would suggest, being a bit-of-a-bugger!
It was eating livestock and terrorising the peasantry who tugged at their caps whenever nobility rode by and snootishly ignored
their hardships. A Wyvern is different from a Dragon as it has only two legs instead of four, sports leathery-wings and was not
known for breathing fire, but holds a highly-toxic poison in its breath. 

Then a local -and probably handsome, young man who was also taking an apprenticeship as a Knight, decided to take matters
into his own hands and relieve the simple-minded hayseeds of their scaly dilemma.

Using a long curved-blade sword (that one tale stated it came from 'The' Crusade!), called a Falchion, this Chuck-Norris-type was
said to have dispatched the evil serpent and probably swept up a flaxen-haired village damsel in his strong arms for good measure.
Of course, not appreciating what our hormones had in-mind for us further own the road, we breathed a different type of lust towards
the wonder of monsters and mystery that the tale betokened.
Maybe even then, Roswell was already whispering to this young lad who'd one day find a place called 'Rogue Nation'?!
.................................................

Nice yarn for the tourists and the children, but the real world doesn't work like that. Whatever wing-flapping monstrosity was on that
Coat of Arms must've had a rational reason for being there. Sh*te like 'Ancient Aliens' and 'Mermaids: The Body Found' hadn't even
been imagined when the emblem was first designed. So as blood-pumping puberty subsided and employment became a regular
girlfriend, I took a peek back into that building where ledgers of discombobulations collected dust along with their kin, journals of
enchantment.

Sockburn was a village just down-river from where Lewis Carroll giggled and played around the gravestones of his father's parish
of Croft-on-Tees. I say was, as it's been long deserted with only the remains of a church and a mansion can still be glimpsed.
Heck, even the Google-Map van can't get there!

But let's remain in the past where the sun always shone and 'Stealth-Omicron' was an expletive an angry farmer may exclaim after
discovering that the straw-chewing young man fleeing across his recently-ploughed field had just stolen his darling-daughter's
maidenhood in a nearby orchard.

Where the River Tees doubles-back on itself, the quaint community of Sockburn worked the lands of the local patricians, a wealthy
family known as the Conyers. The Conyers had been granted the rich acreage by Ranulf Flambard, a medieval Norman Bishop of
Durham during the reign of the king Henry III of England.

It seemed the powerful Barons of the country had been giving him some hassle and to deter their disgruntled demeanour, the rich
agricultural lands were to be checked to see that family lineage equalled the right to own them.

A ritual that is still performed to this day -the Falchion sword is handed to every new Prince-Bishop of Durham from a representative
(usually the Mayor of Durham) of the Conyers family and serves to commemorate the deistic-changeover. The rite was to assure the
landowners of the time of the Wyvern's slaying that their ownership of their vast properties had tradition connected to the powerful
Church and ergo, a bearing in the settled customs of the region.

Observance like this was important because at the time, the lands around England were being coveted by the King and his favourites
and disturbing the attitude of the Church could bring genuine problems in the game of social-control.
.................................................

Alas, the story of the 'Sockburn Worm' and Sir John Conyers was to be overshadowed by another slimy-coiled brute that terrorised
the rural communities of North-East England, the Lambton Worm. Our two-legged reptile fell into obscurity and for its noble slayer
-Sir John, he was later buried on the forgotten grounds of Sockburn Chapel and his descendants died-out alongside the community
of the village. Just like the wicked Wyvern, the land was carved-up and we have what we have today.


The remains of the church and Sir John Conyers tomb. (Notice the Wyvern and faithful dog at his feet.)

Sir John's battle with the poisonous beast is documented in the Bowes Museum, situated in the market town of Barnard Castle in
County Durham.

"Sr John Conyers, Knt. slew yt monstrous and poysonous vermine or wyverne, who overthrew and devoured many people in fight,
for that ye sent of yt poison was so strong yt no person might abyde it. And by ye providence of Almighty God this John Connyers,
Kt, overthrew ye saide monster, and slew it. But before he made this enterprise, having but one sonne, he went to the Church of
Sockburne in compleate armour, and offered up yt his onely sonne to ye Holy Ghost. yt place where this great serpent laye was
called Graystane; and as it is written in ye same manuscript, this John lieth buried in Sockburne Church in compleat armour
before the Conquest. 

The noted sword ended-up in a glass display and kept in the Treasury of Durham Cathedral in the city of Durham.



But what happened to the horrid Wyvern's body...? In the Lambton Worm tale, the serpentine torso had to be chopped up and cast
into the fast currents of the River Wear in order to stop the beast from reforming. It seems the Sockburn Worm held no such powers
and so just like its aristocratic killler, one would assume the monster would've passed into history without a by your leave.
Well.. remember the little kid running around the graveyard of Croft-on-Tees?

Charles Dodgson grew-up and with his parents wishing to further his education, he moved to Rugby school in Warwickshire, England.
To us now, Charles became Lewis Carroll and took pen to paper to write a strange poem called 'Stanza of Anglo-Saxon Poetry' where
the words described an odd creature that many would assume was simply from an expressive imagination.

"Twas bryllyg, and ye slythy toves Did gyre and gymble in ye wabe:
All mimsy were ye borogoves; And ye mome raths outgrabe..."

Appearing in the book 'Through the Looking Glass', it was about The Jabberwocky.

The Wyvern -that was to be moulded from sticky newspaper and painted by a pair of sixties children for a Coat of Arms-project,
now had a real name. Sir John Conyers had brought the sinewy-body low, but failed to rid the world of its memory. Carroll had
escaped with the Wyvern in his heart and wincing from the pain delivered by the Falchion sword, the beast had vowed to itself
that it would not go quietly into the night.

Somewhere beneath the rubble of a torn-down North-East Junior school, lies a chunk of chipboard with scuffed paper-mache glued
to it. The Jabberwocky lives in Carroll's immortal words and under that child-scrawled debris too.
Now, blinking at you -the dear reader, it's here as well.



The Jabberwocky.

[Rodinus]

Some of our Rogue members may have read my tales regarding the Last Witch of Underhill called Peggy Powler.
I've mentioned it a couple of times, but due to other connections to the bare-footed sorceress name's origins, I will relate it
once more. But the yarn below holds the diadem of not only being true, it nudges to the reader that linkages can take one
into realms never mused on when first setting foot on the track of investigation.

Wikipedia would tell you, 'Peg Powler' is a water-spirit that is supposed to dwell in England's North-East River Tees, a place
close to my current abode. Accused of the usual tricks performed by river-hags, Peg Powler will snatch children who stray
too-close to the fast-running waters or the slow deeper parts of the river.

Folklore says this weed-festooned harridan has a sister or daughter who lurks in a tributary of the Tees called Nanny Powler.
If true, this aquatic kiddie-grabbing relative is now waiting for her prey only a hundred feet from where I type as I can see the
River Skerne from the roof of Boy In A Dress' garden shed!...

Ey up lad?

So you live next to the mucky Skerne?

Although I was brought up in Harrogate I was born at Greenbanks hospital in Darlington... 

[WonderCow]

I wonder if the Wyrm has anything to do with sword dancing being so popular up there?

[BIAD]

I wonder if the Wyrm has anything to do with sword dancing being so popular up there?

Well I'd guess there'd be some connection since a trusty sword and a celebration would be indicative of
this types of folklore!

[BIAD]

Ey up lad?

So you live next to the mucky Skerne?
...I was born at Greenbanks hospital in Darlington... 

So was I!!

[Rodinus]

Ey up lad?

So you live next to the mucky Skerne?
...I was born at Greenbanks hospital in Darlington... 

So was I!!

Coincidence or what!

June 1966

[BIAD]

Ey up lad?

So you live next to the mucky Skerne?
...I was born at Greenbanks hospital in Darlington... 

So was I!!

Coincidence or what!

June 1966

December 1960.