The Boldon Book (c.NZ360614)

 
As many people know, the famous Domesday Book of 1086 does not cover English lands north of the River Tees. For whatever reason – be it that the area had been ‘wasted’ by the Normans in previous years, or, more likely, that the region was considered ungovernable – the surveyors studiously avoided the present-day counties of Northumberland and Durham when the most famous manuscript in English history was compiled 900+ years ago.

King William I was happy to let the infamous Prince Bishops of Durham get on with it up here, it seems. And they were pretty powerful men in their day. Perhaps the most famous of them, Hugh de Pudsey, considered himself so important, in fact, that he commissioned a ‘Domesday Book’ of his own in 1183 – a work that came to be known as ‘The Boldon Book’.

Though it differs in both its function and scope from Domesday, it still provides an important snapshot of the region in the late twelfth century. Basically, it presents an assessment of the land’s worth, its annual returns and its customary tenures – and paints a picture of a settled system of Anglo-Saxon feudalism going back generations. Unlike its big brother, it presents a more colourful image of everyday life, with several amusing and seemingly mundane observations.

The Boldon Book does not cover all of Northumberland and Durham, but includes almost all of the latter, and large tracts of land of the former which were then the property of the Bishop of Durham (some areas on the southern bank of the Tweed and the area around Bedlington). The name ‘Boldon’ comes from the text’s tendency to refer back to the Boldon entry (one of the first in the manuscript) when a settlement’s tenurial set-up was similar to the aforementioned village (viz. ‘as of Boldon’). The book lists each settlement in turn, giving an account of tenants’ obligations – both individually and collectively.

The original text has long since been lost, but four copies survive – including one in Durham’s Chapter Library. Transcriptions and interpretations have appeared in the Surtees Society publications (vol.25), the Victorian County History, and one or two other places; but the most accessible by far is that published by Phillimore & Co. Ltd in 1982 – which can still be found in libraries and, occasionally, in second-hand bookshops or online.

Whitburn’s Curious Custom (NZ405616)

   
From The Monthly Chronicle of North-Country Lore & Legend, May 1891:-

2nd April – At a wedding which took place at Whitburn Parish Church, a curious and very ancient custom was observed. What were described as ‘hot pots’ were brought by several of the residents of the village, and, as the party were leaving the church, the bride and bridegroom were invited to taste the liquid contained in them. The mixture consisted of various ingredients, and looked and tasted something like brewers’ yeast. The villagers claimed that the custom prevailed only in Whitburn, and that it was so ancient that the origin of it could not be traced.

        

Whitburn’s Carroll Connection (c.NZ410620)

It is a connection from not so very long ago, but it is a link which has already become swathed in legend, myth and hearsay. Just how strong is, in fact, Whitburn’s claim to be the source of inspiration of so much of Lewis Carroll’s genius works of child fiction?

Carroll certainly visited the town on a regular basis: on the occasions of his visits to his relatives, a Mr and Mrs Wilcox – the former being his uncle, the latter his cousin. He stayed at their residence in High Croft, Lizard Lane, and would often also visit the Williamsons at Whitburn Hall – who themselves often entertained their child relatives, among them the famous Alice Liddell.

The writer would often entertain the younger members of the families with which he stayed by utilising his imaginative story-telling skills. He would undertake walks in the nearby woods and along the local beaches, and weave his experiences into tales and poems – ditties and yarns which would often find their way into published works such as the Alice books in later years. Hence Whitburn’s claims for its expansive beach and the roots of The Walrus and the Carpenter, and that of Jabberwocky in the local legend of the Lambton Worm.

Jabberwocky was, indeed, most probably first narrated to his little friends at Whitburn; and it is now generally accepted that The Walrus and the Carpenter was written during one of Carroll’s stays in the town, too. However, various (rather more direct) Walrus connections to the area have yet to be proved beyond doubt – the appearance of a stuffed animal at Sunderland’s Museum certainly seems to have occurred after, and not before, Carroll got lively with his imagination. There is some evidence, however, that he may have encountered such a rigid incarnation at his sister-in-law’s house, Southwick Rectory, around 1869.

There is something rather pleasing about the uncertainty, nay, daftness, of it all.

More Carroll nonsense (actually, a very eloquent piece) can be found here.

Cleadon Landmarks 2: The Windmill (NZ389632)

© Copyright DAVID ELSY and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence

Situated on its lofty perch atop the Cleadon Hills, this ruined windmill was probably constructed in the 1820s – though an earlier construction may well have occupied the blustery site. It is likely to have fallen out of use after it was damaged by a storm in the 1870s, for it is not mentioned in directories after this time.

During World War I it was used for target practice, though it has since been partially restored. In the late 1970s, what was left of the mill’s internal machinery was removed, and the entrances barred.

The ruin is said to be haunted by the ghost of Elizabeth Gibbon, a miller’s daughter who threw herself from the top of the mill tower after suffering a broken heart. The windmill was actually operated by a family of that name at the time of the 1870s storm, so maybe the story is true, if not the ghost.

Despite the structure being Grade II Listed, there is a threat that it may be demolished soon – if rumours on the Internet are to be believed.

For some beautiful images of Cleadon’s landmarks, see here.





 

Cleadon Landmarks 1: Water Tower (NZ387636)

  

 

Looking much the same in 1900 (above) as it does today, Cleadon Water Tower was built during 1859-62 as part of the water pumping station of the Sunderland & South Shields Water Company – an organisation which itself had only been formed after an Act of Parliament of 1852. The plant fell out of use years ago, but the tower and many of the outbuildings remain, having found alternative uses. The tower is, in fact (or rather was), a chimney for the old steam-powered pumps which drew clean water from the depths below. The well itself, one of several in the area, was 12ft in diameter and 258ft in depth. Strangely, little is known of the pumps which drove the station – they were removed in 1930 when the plant was electrified.

The elegant Italianate brick construction was designed by Thomas Hawksley and was typical of its day. It is 100ft tall, with a balcony near its summit, and is visible for miles around. An internal staircase spirals around the chimney’s central flue – a void now largely filled with radio aerials and the like.

Souter Lighthouse (NZ408642)

 

© Copyright malcolm tebbit and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

When it commenced operations in 1871, Souter Lighthouse was the most advanced in the world. Designed by James Douglass, it was the first to use electricity. The 800,000 candle-power light was powered by a steam engine from a dedicated engine room.

Though located on Lizard Point it somewhat strangely takes its name from Souter point a mile to the south. It was, in fact, the intention to build the lighthouse on the latter site, but this was changed at the last minute due to the lie of the land. The original name, however, was retained – though this was thought to have been done to avoid confusion with Lizard Lighthouse in Cornwall.

Though decommissioned in 1988, the lighthouse is still fully operational – with engine house, light tower and Victorian Keepers’ Cottage all open to the public under the guiding hand of the National Trust.

It is, of course, haunted.

The official website can be found here. As for the ghost, try here.

The Village That Vanished (NZ407644)

Before 1874 there was nothing, and after 1970 there was nothing. But in between thrived the cliff-top colliery village of Marsden in the narrow band of greenery which now exists between the main road and the coast, immediately north of Souter Lighthouse.

You can barely imagine it ever existed today, but it very much did. And it all began, as it so often does, with the sinking of a couple of coal shafts – on this occasion by the Harton Coal Co. – in the shape of Whitburn Colliery, a few hundred yards to the south of the future village. The labour demand for both this and the emerging limestone quarries and lime kilns in the area necessitated the construction of a new settlement, and thus the brand new village of Marsden was born with its 135 houses set out in nine rows.

The inhabitants of the ‘new town’ were well catered for. All had gardens or allotments, there was a post office, a Co-operative store, two chapels (Anglican and Methodist), a Miners’ Institute & Reading Room, a sports field, and a school. The famous ‘Marsden Rattler’ connected the villagers’ tiny railway station – said to be the smallest in England – to the rail network, and carried the men to and from work. At its peak around 700 folk lived there.

After doing very nicely for a good half century, one by one the local industries began to disappear during the 1930s, ‘40s and ‘50s, and employment opportunities began to wane. In 1968, the failing Whitburn Colliery finally closed, by which time Marsden was already in decline. The decision was then taken to entirely dismantle the village as part of a beautification process – and almost everything was swept away in a very short space of time. Only the old school building and a chapel were left standing.

So next time you visit Souter Lighthouse, take a sweeping look to the north and try to picture it all. Here’s a map to help you…

 (taken from www.bornyesterday.org.uk/old_marsden.html - not sure who owns the copyright).

See also www.marsden-ons.co.uk/MFHN/marsvill.htm .

Marsden Lime Kilns (NZ405645)

 

© Copyright Mick Garratt and licensed for reuse under this Creative Commons Licence.

   

Marsden Limekilns, facing bleakly out to sea at the southern extremity of Marsden Bay, are one of only three Scheduled Ancient Monuments in the Borough of South Tyneside, the other two being Arbeia Roman Fort and St.Paul’s Monastery. They are unmissable to anyone using the present-day A183 Coast Road.

The massive creations date from the 1870s, being an off-shoot industry of the nearby (but long gone) Whitburn Colliery. The limestone which was processed in the kilns was quarried literally yards away on the clifftop above, the stone being fed into the top of the complex. Coal from the nearby pit fuelled the kilns, heating and breaking down the stone to produce quicklime, which was used to neutralise soil, and also had uses in the cement, steel and chemical industries. The kilns to the right pre-date the circular affairs to the left, the latter being added in 1895. The insertion of the raw material at the top and the extraction of the quicklime at the base was almost continuous when the kilns were operating full-pelt. A railway line at the front took the goods to South Shields for shipping.

When the colliery closed in 1968 the limekilns went with them, their source of power gone.

Dame Flora Robson (NZ371658)

 

Flora McKenzie Robson, one of the twentieth century’s greatest character actresses of stage, film and TV, was born at 11 Village Terrace, Westoe, on 28th March 1902. Her father, a shipping engineer, relocated the family to the south of England in 1907, where Flora spent most of the rest of her life. From the age of five she competed in recitation competitions, eventually attending RADA as a youth.

Lacking what may be described as ‘glamorous looks’, Robson took on character roles from an early age – a career decision which was to see her excel over the following decades, though her fame didn’t begin to surface until the 1930s. In fact, such was the uncertainty of her ‘trade’ that she spent several years employed as a factory welfare officer in east London in the 1920s. The early 1930s, however, began to bring real stage success – based largely at the Old Vic.

In time, film roles followed. Most notably, of course, were her two performances as Queen Elizabeth I in Fire Over England (1937, picture above) and The Sea Hawk (1940); but memorable roles followed in Saratoga Trunk (1945 – Oscar nomination), Caesar & Cleopatra (1945), Black Narcissus (1947), and the ‘Holiday Camp’ series of films. A host of stage, film and TV appearances followed throughout the ‘50s, ‘60s and 70s. Many will remember her for her role as the Queen of Hearts in the 1972 production of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and her final film appearance as a Stygian Witch in Clash of the Titans (1981).

Her largely unheralded charity work helped her to a CBE in 1952, then a DBE in 1960. She never married nor had children, and lived for many years before her death at her Brighton home with her two sisters. She died in 1984.

IMDb entry here.

South Shields Museum & Art Gallery (NZ364673)

This splendid institution turned 150 years of age in April 2010 and, though it’s a little late, let’s have a celebratory look back at its history.

The building now occupied by the museum and art gallery was built during 1859-60 as the South Shields Mechanics Institute for the purposes of providing the working classes with a means by which they may educate themselves. Sir Robert Ingham, MP for South Shields and President of the Mechanics Institution, would have had quite a say in the matter, no doubt, and it was he who laid the foundation stone in 1859. Built at a cost of £2,700, the Institute was opened in April the following year, but proved too costly to run so was sold onto the Borough Corporation in 1871 for use as its planned Free Library.

Eventually, in October 1873, the building was indeed opened as the town's first public library. However, within a few years the building began doubling up as a display venue for relics from the nearby Roman fort, and a move was made to open a museum within the building – a development which came to fruition in 1876. As the years went by, other artefacts would be added to the museum’s collection as seafarers brought items home from all over the world.

The museum and library continued to share the building until 1976, when the new library complex opened in Prince Georg Square – after which the old building was rebranded as the ‘Museum and Art Gallery’. Since then, significant improvements have been made to the building, inside and out – most notably in 2001 and during 2003-4.

Catherine Cookson, 1906-1998 (NZ355653)

[The following article originally appeared as an obituary in the now defunct North-Easterner Magazine in 1998]

An Obituary of Dame Catherine Cookson

Loved and respected by thousands of admirers the world over, Dame Catherine Cookson, author extraordinaire, died peacefully in her sleep on 11th June 1998 – a few days short of her 92nd birthday. She was arguably the greatest and perhaps the most famous living North-Easterner until her recent passing, selling more than 100 million copies of her 100 or so novels worldwide in 18 different languages. Though she didn’t begin writing until she was 44 years of age, for the last decade of her life she headed the list of the most-borrowed library books in the UK. She was awarded an OBE in 1985, and became a Dame in 1993.

Catherine was born on 27th June 1906, at 5 Leam Lane, Tyne Dock, on the south bank of the Tyne, the illegitimate daughter of a tragic, broken alcoholic, Kate McMullen. For the first seven years of her life she was led to believe that Kate was actually her elder sister, and was brought up by her grandmother Rose McMullen and ‘step-grandfather’ John McMullen – whom she believed to be her real parents. Her biological father was one Alexander Davies (her birth was actually registered under the name of Davies), a well-to-do regular at the pub where Kate worked. However, Alexander had left the scene by the time of her birth - never to be seen again.

Catherine endured a childhood of abject poverty – very much the norm amidst the docklands of Tyneside. Shortly after learning the truth about her parentage, she was molested by an Irish lodger who lived next door – at the time her mother’s boyfriend. Furthermore, she suffered regular beatings at the hands of the uncaring Kate, and endured a life of general drudgery. The family soon moved onto Jarrow in 1912, a house which was permanently filled with lodgers thus putting yet further strain upon the young Catherine. Five years later, in 1917, her grandmother, Rose, died – and Catherine herself, in fact, almost died soon afterwards as the wear and tear on her young body took its toll. But, pulling through, she determined to make good, and pushed herself through a series of self-improvement projects in her teens, despite her low social standing.

Shunned by her boyfriend on her 21st birthday she decided to break her ties with the North and fled south – firstly to Essex, and then to Hastings where she found a fairly well-paid job as a workhouse laundry manageress. She scrimped and saved her money, only to learn that, to her horror, her mother, Kate, had decided to move south to live nearby. Catherine, however, was eventually able to take out a mortgage on a large house in 1933, and took in guests – keeping her mother at arm’s length in her old house in the centre of Hastings. One of Catherine’s lodgers, Tom Cookson, was to eventually become her husband – tying the knot, as they did, on 1st June 1940. Her mother returned in disgust to Tyneside.

Suffering three miscarriages and a nervous breakdown, Catherine’s problems continued, however. She even spent some time in a psychiatric hospital near Hereford during the war, eventually returning to her Hastings home where she spent many a lonely night without husband Tom who was away on RAF duty. Suffering a fourth miscarriage, she eventually found solace in writing. Struggling for themes and a style, she began to make use of her own life experiences which finally found form in her first published novel, Kate Hannigan, in 1950. It earned her £100 – a huge amount of money in those days; but, more importantly, was to launch her on a career which was to bring her worldwide fame, and a fortune beyond her wildest dreams.

The publication of Kate Hannigan was only the first step on the long road to fame for Catherine Cookson – who was, by then, already 44 years of age. Her life until then had been a one of perpetual heartache, it had seemed; and even throughout the early years of her new career her health remained a constant problem. She suffered a hereditary blood disorder all her life, and was in constant need of medical attention – and regular blood transfusions. Against the odds, though, she lived on, and on, and continued to write, and write. The money began to pour in as the years rolled by; and when authors began to be paid a fee each time their books were borrowed from libraries it was the making of her – though she donated her first year’s income from this scheme to less fortunate writers than herself. Indeed she was to donate millions of pounds to all sorts of charities and causes over the years.

In 1961, writer’s cramp forced Catherine to start dictating her work. In 1968, she won the Winifred Holtby Prize for the Best Regional Novel for The Round Tower; and the following year one of her best-loved novels, Our Kate, was published. She was made a Freeman of South Shields in 1973, and was granted the Freedom of the Borough in 1974. In 1975, she and husband, Tom, decided to establish a base in the North-East and bought a house in Jesmond – but made the move north permanent in 1976 by buying a house in Morpeth. They later bought houses in Corbridge and Langley, Northumberland. Catherine was elected Variety Club Woman of the Year in 1982 (an honour later gained on two further occasions), and was named as Britain’s top creative writer by Woman’s Own magazine the same year. In 1983, she was awarded an honorary Master of Arts degree by Newcastle University.

She achieved true national acclaim in 1985 when she was awarded an OBE. It was at about this time, too, that many of her novels started being dramatised for TV in a big way – The Fifteen Streets being perhaps the most famous, appearing on our screens in 1989 – and winning the Best Network Programme on TV Award. But in 1990 Catherine suffered two heart attacks – though she recovered, and enjoyed another honour in the shape of an honorary doctorate from Sunderland Polytechnic in 1991. The very same year she and Tom moved into a bungalow in Jesmond.

On January 1st 1993, Catherine was made a Dame in the New Year’s Honours list – the ultimate accolade. By then she was a novelist of international repute. And in her native North-East there were permanent tributes to be enjoyed by all in the shape of, most notably, the ‘Catherine Cookson Country’ tourist trail (which effectively doubled the number of tourists to South Tyneside, Catherine’s ‘home patch’ of her childhood) and the permanent ‘Catherine Cookson Display’ at South Shields Museum & Art Gallery. Both attractions still bring in thousands upon thousands of Cookson fans to the region every year.

But perhaps Dame Catherine Cookson’s greatest legacy is her immense charity donations. £1million to Newcastle University for research into blood disorders; £100,000 to Jarrow’s ‘Bede’s World’; £224,000 to help Durham Cathedral display its ‘Treasures of St.Cuthbert’; £187,000 to safeguard the future of Newcastle's Hatton Gallery; Children’s Literacy in Newcastle received £163,000; South Shields Volunteer Life Brigade were handed £163,000, too - as was the Library Campaign; and she celebrated her 80th birthday in 1986 by donating £160,000 to various causes. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.

Yes, Dame Catherine Cookson was, indeed, one of the world’s best-loved story-tellers. But she was much more than that. When she died peacefully of heart failure in her sleep on 11th June 1998, the people of the North-East had lost a living legend whose generosity knew no bounds. Her husband of almost 60 years, Tom, followed her to the grave less than three weeks later, on 29th June 1998, aged 86.

Tyne Dock (NZ353655)

Between (the now filled in) Jarrow Slake and the western edge of South Shields sits a very distinct corner of Tyneside known as Tyne Dock. Named after the large dock which eats into the river’s southern bank, it is as easily identifiable on maps as almost any other geographical feature in the region. Which makes it a bit of shame that it has now almost gone, and is unlikely to feature in blue on the next edition of the OS map.

Incredibly, the Tyne Dock basin was dug out by hand in the 1850s – much of it by veterans returning from the Crimean War. As part of the general industrial surge of the day, it was deemed necessary to create births for the growing river traffic – and the new ‘marina’ could take, it was said, some 500 vessels. Opened in 1859, Robert Stephenson made the dock gates and William Armstrong made the engines to power them – and they were still in use until about 20 years ago. But it was the drive of Jarrow shipbuilder Charles Palmer which saw the dock’s construction brought to a conclusion. Keen to compete with the railways in the transportation of coal, the great yard was Palmer’s response – built to take mighty new colliers such as the John Bowes.

A proud community grew up around the dock, of course – much of it made famous by the novels of Catherine Cookson, who was born at 5 Leam Lane, Tyne Dock in 1906, just as the yard was approaching is peak. With the decline of the industry and the growth in the sheer size of visiting ships, the dock’s usefulness began to fall off.

Inevitably, the developers’ eyes began to turn to the possibility of reclaiming the watery 50 acre site. In the 1980s, much of the southern area of the dock was in-filled, reducing its size by a good two-thirds. Then, in November 2009, a decision was made to complete the process by using material dredged and dug from the river during the excavation of the second Tyne Tunnel. This process has now been completed, and only a small sliver of the old Tyne Dock remains – to be filled with spoil as and when it becomes available.

Then the area will be ready for new commercial development. That’s progress for you.

There’s a neat little piece here about Tyne Dock and its community.

King Ecgfrith’s Port (NZ345655)

Jarrow Slake, that oddly-named area of reclaimed land on the south bank of the Tyne neighbouring St.Paul’s Church, has a recorded history going back to the time of Bede. The area was then a large expanse of mud-flats into which the River Don wound before emptying itself into the Tyne – but at high tide would fill with water, hence its original name of ‘King Ecgfrith’s Port’, named after the Dark Age Northumbrian king who gifted the land to the monks of Jarrow.

In time, a new name came into use: Jarrow’s Lake – which in turn became corrupted into Jarrow Slake. Little more than a treacherous expanse of gooey mess – as well as an unofficial bird sanctuary – for centuries, it was eventually put to good use in Victorian times as a pond for timber seasoning, for which it served its purpose for around a century from the 1870s. The Slake was also home to an isolation hospital for several years from around 1930, to which access was gained via a catwalk.

In 1972, reclamation work began, and the area was used as a landfill site for some time. Eventually amalgamated into the surrounding landscape, the Slake’s 120-acre muddy expanse finally disappeared for good in the early 1980s. Latterly it has been used as a car distribution terminal for Nissan.

For some fabulous photos of the old Slake, see here. And the area, on a map, as it is now – still, pleasing, called Jarrow Slake!

P.S. The illustrated gibbeting is probably that of William Jobling in 1832 (but that’s another story, see here). Though there is no sign of the cage, the artist may have omitted it in error.

 

The Oldest Stained Glass Window in the World (NZ338652)

 

Well, sort of. It is certainly the oldest stained glass that is known to still form part of a window – but we’ve cheated a bit, because this rather random mosaic was thrown together by craftsmen thirty-odd years ago using pieces of ancient glass turned up in a dig in the 1970s.

Professor Rosemary Cramp had been poking around archaeological sites in both Jarrow and nearby Monkwearmouth for more than a decade before she fell upon the above specimens in a particularly significant find at the former site during 1973-74. A decision was soon made to put them on display in the surviving Anglo-Saxon chancel at St.Pauls, the 7-inch diameter window ever since being claimed as the world’s oldest of its type.

The thing is, similar fragments found at Monkwearmouth are probably older, based on the theory that the Wearside monastry pre-dated that at Jarrow by about a decade (670s as opposed to 680s). Though it is not possible to accurately date glass, the Venerable Bede’s writings confirm that such glass was being fitted in the North-East monastries from around 675 – which means that Monkwearmouth must have had it first, followed by Jarrow when it was itself constructed a little later.

So, there you have it: yet more Tyne-Wear rivalry, this time with the Wearsiders coming out, we think, on top. But until they get their bits and pieces into a functioning piece of kit, the Tyne will still have the oldest stained glass window in the world. Well, as I say, sort of.

More reading here and here.

P.S. Fragments of glass from the Monkwearmouth site can be found on display at several locations throughout Sunderland, namely, St.Peter’s Church, Sunderland Museum & Winter Gardens and (from April 2011) The National Glass Centre. Bede’s World Museum, Jarrow, contains fragments from its own site, in addition to that on display in situ in the old church itself.

St.Bede’s Well, Hebburn (NZ321641)

A nondescript hole in the ground in a corner of a patch of landscaped ground in Hebburn is the spot in question. Presumably an old natural spring of sorts, it used to sit little more than a yard from the old Bede Burn which meandered this way - a waterway which now lies buried under (or perhaps diverted around) the modern paved area which frames the well itself.

Legend has it that the famous Bede drew water from the well as a boy, and later sent monks there to fetch water when he was a priest at nearby St.Paul’s Monastery. All very fanciful, though there has been some recent speculation that the ‘bede’ in question derives from the Anglo-Saxon word baed, meaning a bathing place. Local historian Brand stated that in the 1740s it had long been a custom to bring sick and disabled children to the spot to be dipped in the healing waters, after which a crooked pin would be dropped into the little pool. Midsummer’s Eve would also bring the locals to the site in large number for various festivities, including bonfires, music, dancing and sports.

Until the urban spread of the late Victorian era, the well and its immediate environs were something of a beauty spot. The incursions of industry and the like changed the area beyond recognition as the Edwardian era blew in, and the site underwent many changes during the twentieth century – but has somehow managed to hang on to its place on the modern OS map as a site of antiquarian interest in the area now known as Campbell Park.

For an excellent picture history of the site, see here.

The Tyne Tunnels (NZ330660)

The Tyne Tunnels are a series of three byways (pedestrian, cycle and vehicular) which pass under the River Tyne between Jarrow on the south bank and Howdon on the north. The road tunnel forms a section of the main arterial A19 trunk road.

They were constructed during 1947-67 as a result of the passing of the Tyne Tunnel Act – though the scheme had been proposed a decade previously by the Durham and Northumberland county councils. Post-war frugality delayed the vehicular underpass, but the pedestrian and cycle tunnels were completed and opened by 1951 – both stretching some 900ft and lying around 40ft below the river bed. The huge wooden escalators at either end are record-breaking constructions in their own right, but will soon be superseded by more modern affairs.

The much larger and longer (5,500ft) road tunnel was eventually completed in 1967, and was ‘opened’ by The Queen on 19th October of that year (though it was not opened to traffic until 1968). It has always been a toll tunnel – originally 2s 6d for cars (now £1.20).

A second vehicular tunnel was completed in February 2011, and, as I write, the old tunnel is undergoing a period of closure for renovation. The new ‘double-tunnel’ will then be re-opened fully in December 2011, by which time the revamp of the pedestrian-cycle tunnel will be well underway. By the end of 2012 all of the tunnels should be fully functional and modernised – though the wooden escalators will be preserved for posterity. After all, the tunnels are Grade II listed.

RMS Mauretania (c.NZ301655)

 

 

RMS Mauretania is, or rather was, the most famous ship ever built on the Tyne. It emerged from the Swan, Hunter & Wigham Richardson Yard at Wallsend in 1906 – the largest and fastest vessel in the world at its launch. She was one of the most iconic ships in maritime history – the flagship of the Cunard Line and holder of the transatlantic Blue Riband for 22 years from 1907.

The construction of the ship took around two years prior to its launch on 20th September 1906. She sat in the river for a further year being fitted out to her famous high standards, and commenced trials in September 1907. She left the river amidst great ceremony the following month to be delivered to Liverpool, where the world’s largest moving structure embarked upon her maiden voyage in November 1907.

She plied her passenger trade across the Atlantic for several years, stacking up the speed and time records – making 88 perfect crossings of the ocean during 1908-11 alone at an average speed of over 25 knots.

During the Great War, Mauretania was requisitioned by the Admiralty. She was only ever armed during her wartime service towards the end of hostilities, but helped 10,000 troops on their way to the doomed Gallipoli campaign, narrowly avoided being torpedoed, and was latterly converted into a hospital ship. She also transported troops hither and thither as needs required, including taking many soldiers back home to North America after the war.

She returned to her Cunard service in 1919, but wear and tear soon began to show. An on-board fire then brought her home for a refit on the Tyne during 1921-22 – prompting great local celebration – before returning to her glorious transatlantic best. Cruises were also by then a part of her remit, carrying some of the world’s richest folk around the Mediterranean and further afield. A further upgrade to her machinery in 1923 at Southampton and Cherbourg provided a further boost to her career. She finally lost the prestigious Blue Riband to the German ship Bremen in 1929.

She spent her latter days cruising the Caribbean, where a repaint earned for her the nicknames “The White Queen” and “The Wedding Cake”. Finally withdrawn from service in 1934, she sailed back to Southampton, was stripped, and, in 1935, was taken to the breakers yard at Rosyth. As she passed the mouth of the Tyne on her way north, thousands of mourners lined the shore, a flotilla buzzed lovingly around her creaking bulk, and local dignitaries paid their last respects in an on-board ceremony. The Mauretania then disappeared out of sight and into history.

For more information see here.

Wallsend and The Grand Duke (NZ310664)

 

As part of the Europe-wide celebrations following the overthrow of Napoleon, a state visit to the UK was arranged for Alexander I, Emperor of Russia, in 1816. Accompanying Alexander was his 20-year-old younger brother (and future Emperor), The Grand Duke Nicholas. It was a holiday the young man would never forget.

Nicholas must have fancied himself as something of a man of the world; an adventurer even. For, breaking free of the royal party, he determined upon some new personal experiences as part of what he must have considered to be his exciting ‘alternative tour’. Top of his list of ‘must-dos’ seems to have been to visit a coal mine; and so, in view of the pit’s famed reputation, he was ushered north to Wallsend Colliery.

The esteemed dignitary’s arrival sparked a burst of regionalistic verve. Wearside welcomed him first, with a visit to the river’s then famous bridge; before moving onto Newcastle and an introduction to Thomas Bewick, among others. Eventually arriving at Wallsend on 16th December 1816, he was given a prolonged tour of the colliery site, before being invited to change out of his glittering finery and into a deputy-overman’s outfit, prior to being escorted to the gaping hole that was the pit-head.

The chosen mode of descent for The Grand Duke was considered the safest of its day. This involved the riding of a large iron hook at the end of a long rope, by which he was told to cling to firmly, whilst keeping himself clear of the black and dripping walls with a short stick during his long, slow drop.

At the time, Wallsend Colliery was one of the most profitable in the land and produced the very finest quality coal. The visit was meant to impress and enlighten, but ended up delivering a little too much in the way of information. For when Nicholas was brought to the very edge of the pit and looked down into the abyss, he stepped back hurriedly, holding up his hands in horror, exclaiming in French, “Ah! My God! It is the mouth of hell! None but a madman would venture into it!”

He hastily retreated, changed quickly back into his splendid military attire, and left Wallsend Colliery as fast as his carriage would carry him.

Wallsend’s Old Church (NZ305673)

 

Residents of the North Tyneside town will be familiar with their form, but many from further afield may not even be aware of the existence of this curious collection of stones. They stand in open fields between the town centre to the south and the Coast Road to the north, equally forgotten and ignored by both, apart from, that is, occasion visits by graffiti merchants.

Built in the twelfth century with stones robbed from the Roman Wall, the Church of the Holy Cross was almost certainly constructed by the monks of Jarrow Priory in whose parish it then lay. It seems to have been used for public worship until 1798, by which time it had become so dilapidated that it was abandoned – a half-baked plan of repair leaving the building roofless and utterly unrecoverable. Much of the stone was requisitioned for the building of a barn and stable-block for the nearby parsonage, with the flock adjourning to a school-room for their services for nigh on a decade.

By-and-by a new church – that of St.Peter’s – was built and consecrated in 1809, and the old building was left to crumble. The image above dates from 1887; and in 1909 the site was tidied and a fence erected to help protect the remains.

And as you can see, here, they haven’t changed much over the years.

 

North Shields’ Wooden Dollies (NZ358683 & NZ355685)

‘Wooden Dolly’ statues have been a part of the history of North Shields for 200 years. There have been many incarnations over the years, beginning with a ship’s figurehead, morphing into a fishwife – and lately returning once again to its original form.

It all began in 1781, when a collier brig by the name of the Alexander and Margaret was attacked and ransomed on the high seas. Some time later, in 1814, the ship’s female figurehead somehow found its way to the town, where it was placed at the entrance to the Customs House Quay, on Liddell Street. In time, a tradition grew up among the local mariners to shave pieces from the figure to take with them to sea as good luck charms. This led to its repeated defacement and replacement – firstly in 1850, then in the 1860s, and again in 1901 when Dolly No.4 was raised, this time in the shape of a fishwife.

But that wasn’t the last of it. Most of us have grown up with Dolly No.5, being the replica fishwife placed in Northumberland Square in 1958 (which still survives). But lately – in 1992 – a sixth statue has appeared in the very same spot previously occupied by numbers 1-4, being a throw-back to the original ship’s figurehead. This can be seen at Custom House Quay next to the Prince of Wales pub.

Check them out here…

Dolly No.3 (probably)

Dolly No.4

Dolly No.5

Dolly No.6