The Busy Gap Rogues (NY799697)

In a dip in the course of Hadrian’s Wall between Housesteads to the west and Sewingshields Crags to the east lies a tract of land known as ‘Busy Gap’. It may well refer in the present-day sense to the many thousands of walkers who pass this way every year. But, in fact, the term has a much more sinister connotation: for it was the common descriptive name for a thoroughfare of those of ill-repute – and a place to be very much avoided by those of a more peaceable nature. 

Geographically, of course, the little col, or pass, provided an easy means of passage through an otherwise awkward zone. For centuries after the Romans left, the line of their wall provided nuisance value to the general traveller, and, in time, ways, paths and drove roads wore their way through the easy bits in the landscape. And, by the medieval era, the patch of low-lying ground to the east of Broomlee Lough became rather well-trod.

Such spots attracted all sorts of attention, though, both good and bad. And so it was that during the days of the Border Reivers (16^th & 17^th centuries), this route through the wall became a way by which ne’er-do-wells and the like could easily come and go on their evil ways. Such was the severity of the problem that a new catchphrase came into use across the region: the ‘Busy Gap Rogues’. Even as far as Newcastle – and well into the 18^th century – the expression was a by-word for anyone who was suspected of being up to no good, and a downright term of abuse for those who lived out in the sticks. Even the famous traveller, William Camden, writing in his Britannia (1599), dared not visit the troublesome place on account of the “rank robbers” thereabouts.

From the mid-17^th century an extended family of Armstrongs is known to have lived at what remained of Housesteads fort and the immediate vicinity. The area around the ‘gap’ became the headquarters for protection rackets and unruly horse thieves whose grasping fingers extended as far north as Perth and south into Yorkshire. There are remains in the landscape of Busy Gap today of old stock enclosures and the like, no doubt used by the Armstrongs during the course of their nefarious dealings.

Around the turn of the 18^th century things began to change, and the area around Busy Gap – Roman remains and all – sank softly back into tranquillity. Eventually, of course, society came to appreciate the area for what it once was under the Romans and preservation, tourism and leisure became the order of the day. Gone are the rogues … and here instead roam the ramblers.

Black Middens Bastle (NY773900)

© Copyright wfmillar and licensed for reuse 

under this Creative Commons Licence.

Black Middens Bastle is one of the very best examples of its kind in the Borders region – and perhaps the most famous. Bastles were once all the rage in these parts due to the uncertain behaviour of one’s neighbours, it being necessary to construct a fortified farmhouse to protect both family and livestock from the infamous Border Reivers. The idea was that you could, given sufficient notice, stash your animals safely down at ground level with the humans occupying the upper floor. These substantial affairs were built by your slightly better-off farming families – those who had a bit of cash and ‘clout’ – and the even richer folk would have larger versions known as pele-towers. 

The example we have here at Black Middens lies on the north bank of the Tarset Burn, in the isolated depths of darkest Northumberland. It was originally constructed, it is thought, in the 16^th century, with its one and only appearance in the historical records coming in 1583 when it was subjected to an attack by the Armstrong clan. Over the years it has been altered somewhat: the original door was blocked in, three more were cut and the external staircase added (originally, first floor access would have been via an internal ladder). A few yards away lies a ruinous 18^th century cottage, itself built on the foundations of another bastle.

These days English Heritage maintains the site, which is open pretty much any reasonable time during daylight hours. The roof is no longer intact, but the structure is otherwise fairly complete – including a few internal features. Not surprising, really, as the building was used as a farmstead into the 20^th century, with a slate roof still being in place as recently as 1970.

Riding Mill Witch-Hunt (NZ019614)

One of Riding Mill’s most prominent landmarks these days is The Wellington Hotel public house, sitting, as it does, on the north side of the main thoroughfare of the village. It is a popular stopping off point for travellers, but few will be aware of the establishment’s grisly past.

The building began life as a private residence in the mid 17^th century, and was known originally as Riding House. Not long after its construction, though, it became embroiled in an extraordinary tale of alleged witchcraft and an unfortunate suicide.

The story goes that in 1672 a young servant girl called Anne Armstrong had several of those episodes all too common at the time and began randomly accusing various individuals of dabbling in witchcraft. Anne lived at Birches Nook, Stocksfield, and after a minor argument with an old woman over some eggs she descended into a series of hysterical trances. Among her many rantings she accused three local women – Ann Forster of Stocksfield, Anne Dryden of Prudhoe and Lucy Thompson of Mickley – of dancing with the Devil and other shenanigans (including shape-shifting into various beasts) at Riding House.

The case rumbled on until it was finally heard at Morpeth Quarter Sessions in 1673, whereupon the magistrates considered young Anne’s account far too fanciful and dismissed it. The three defendants were therefore acquitted, and the matter was considered to be at an end.

However, Anne Armstrong, the deluded accuser, was to have the last, horrid word. For, shortly after the case was concluded, she was found hanged in the Riding House scullery. And (of course) her ghost is said to haunt the pub to this day…

Note: The case of the Riding Mill witch-hunt is considered to be unique in English witch trials, the various witchly goings-on having a distinctly ‘continental’ feel to them. Quite how a young North-East servant girl came to recount such stories has, however, never been properly explained.

Ingram Oddities (NU019163)

You never know what you’re going to find when you poke around an old graveyard. And if you look closely enough you’re sure to find an oddity or two in almost any such site. Take St.Michael & All Angels Church at Ingram which lies at the eastern gateway to the Cheviots – for it has two such curiosities.

The first is a gravestone to James & Isabella Armstrong, residents of High Bleakhope (a remote farm higher up the Breamish valley) – James, according to one source, being a “well known and much esteemed Border Yeoman.” They died in 1914 and 1951, respectively. The beautifully rounded stones were taken from the River Breamish near their farmstead. Apparently, Isabella’s sister, Elizabeth, has a similar headstone at Eglingham.

[thanks to Skida’s image and info at http://www.panoramio.com/photo/14739820#comments ]

In the same churchyard can be found a simple cross atop a rough, unhewn boulder. The inscription says it all:

Together

in this grave lie

Isabella Allgood aged 42

James Charles Allgood aged 13

David Williamson Allgood aged 11

the beloved wife and sons of

James Allgood rector of Ingram

who were killed in an accident

on the Great Northern Railway

at Abbot’s Ripton January 21 1876

They were lovely and pleasant in

their lives and in their deaths

they were not divided

[thanks to Northernvicar at https://northernvicar.wordpress.com/2012/09/26/ingram-st-michael-and-all-angels/ for the info and image]

Jesmond Real Tennis Club (NZ253673)

(from Wikipedia)

Real tennis, the ancient forerunner of our more familiar racket sports, has been around since at least as long ago as the sixteenth century. It is now very much a niche, or specialist, sport, as is evidenced by the distinct lack of courts worldwide. Globally, there are less than fifty, with the UK being home to more than half of these.

One of the more noteworthy venues is that at Jesmond, to the north of Newcastle. It was built in 1894 as a private court for Sir Andrew Noble, who owned nearby Jesmond Dene House. Noble, a Scot, was a leading light at the famous Armstrong munitions works – and was a handy player himself (despite suffering occasionally from gout!). The architect responsible was local chap F.W.Rich.

The suitably-named Jesmond Dene Real Tennis Club now occupies and runs the curious set-up, though it enjoyed a chequered twentieth century existence. During World War I airships were said to have been constructed there; and, following a brief reversion to ‘family’ use after hostilities, the building moved out of private ownership and into the care of Newcastle Council in 1931. The formation of a tennis club on the site the following year helped maintain the historic links, but Badminton ran the roost at the venue for many years following WWII. Happily, though, the building eventually reverted to its proper ‘real tennis’ use in 1981.

It is now, quite rightly, a listed building.

More extensive historical info here.

Pineapple Church, Rocket City (NZ305384)

© Copyright OliverDixon and licensed for reuse under this Creative CommonsLicence.

This extraordinary sight is the famous ‘Pineapple Church’ of Bowburn, County Durham – complete with its detached ‘Rocket’ spire. The unusual combo – more properly known as Christ the King Church – helped make the former pit village rather well-known during its short lifespan, Bowburn being often referred to as ‘Rocket City’.

The ‘Rocket’ was the first to hit the skyline – in 1963 – being commissioned by Father Bill Armstrong and designed by Harold Wharfe. The planned new church took a good deal longer to build, being capped off with its fruity topping in 1976 and dedicated in 1978. In case you’re wondering, the distinctive dome was made from fibreglass.

However, like much of that which was built in the 1970s, the church proved to be of problematic design and questionable construction. It soon began to demand too much in the way of maintenance, was closed in 2004 and then demolished in 2007. A new, and painfully plain, church was built in 2008.

The crazy spire remained, though … but not for long.  In October 2009, shortly before it was due to be cleaned, a gale brought it to ground. It was hastily carted off to the scrapyard before anyone got the daft idea of re-erecting it.

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Well, Well, Well (NZ515159)

In the churchyard of Marton St.Cuthbert’s, near Middlesbrough, sits a headstone of which has carved upon it the words “Remember Death” and three coffins each with the initials of the three robbers* who lie there.

The headstone was erected in memory of Robert Armstrong (28), John Ingledew (39) and Joseph Fenison (28) who lost their lives on 11^th October 1812.  The three men, it is said, had stolen some meat from the butcher’s shop but, as they were taking it away, they were disturbed, so threw it down the well in the yard at the rear of the shop.  They later returned to reclaim their quarry, and one of the men went down the well.  When he did not return the second went down to see what had happened to him.  When he did not return the third man went down – all three were suffocated by the ‘carbonic acid gas’ at the bottom of the well.

The inscription on the headstone finishes with the warning that anyone contemplating entering wells should first see whether a candle burns and, if it does all the way to the bottom, they can go down – but if the candle goes out they should stay out.

The burial entry dated 13^th October 1812 records that Robert Armstrong, Joiner; Jo.Ingledew, blacksmith; and Joseph Fenison, labourer, were suffocated in a dry well behind the Rudds Arms by foul air.  It is recorded as an accident.

* It has since been pointed out to me by Christine McQueen, a descendant of Ingledew (first name JAMES, not John), that according to her research the three men were not robbers but merely three honest men trying to recover goods which had been lost down the well in question. One source (a newspaper report of 1st December 1812) makes no mention of them being criminals. Like the bad historian I am, I have carelessly mislaid my own source for the story!