BB2046 : Those
Were The Years That Were
Wednesday
30th December 2020
Those
of a certain age will remember
Millicent Martin singing the
theme song of “That Was The
Week That Was”. For those
under that certain age, TW3
was the first TV satire programme
poking fun at the week’s news,
fronted by David Frost.
On
28th December 1983, the title
and content inevitably changed
for the night to “That Was The
Year That Was".
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The
thought came to mind as I started to compose
this report. It wasn’t just that this
was our last outing of 2020- a very bizarre
year. What had struck me was the huge
number of buildings seen today that carried
a reference to a year.
It
started where we parked at the Junction
House in Burneside. This looks as
if it might once have been a toll bar house.
It shows the date 1835. Tony
had parked opposite the Church. The
Vicarage, a fine Victorian house as suited
to Victorian ministers, boasted 1856.
There
followed a stream of dates, all relating
to the specialist paper manufacturing company,
James
Cropper plc,
established 1845.
I
had never previously realised that Burneside
is in many ways a model village. Not so
obviously laid out as, say, Lever Brothers’
Port Sunlight or Welwyn Garden City but
many of the houses were clearly associated
with Croppers and several of these had dates
on them.
First
we passed an unusual small building that
boasts three dates on separate plaques:
1717, 1885 and 1855. This is near
the entrance to the factory so presumably
has some relevance to the mill but I don’t
know what.
As
we walked by the factory and its cottages,
several more years jumped out at us: 1990
above a huge factory door, 1872 on a drinking
fountain and 1892 on the Roger Row cottages.
After
leaving the industrial units behind, we
headed out of the Burneside on this cold
and frosty morning. We were on our
way to Gurnal Dubbs, our target for the
day.
We
were the Burneboyos, Philip, Stan, Tony
and me, on our way to meet Stephen,
the Potterman, waiting for us up on the
Potter Fell Road. Meanwhile the Stafellows,
Martin and Mike, were setting off from Staveley
heading for the same destination. Yes,
I know that totals seven and the maximum
permitted number was six but that is why
we were arriving in two groups and ne’er
the twain shall meet; well, not so close
as you would call it a meeting.
By
‘eck, it were cold to begin with but once
we had met up with Stephen, the day started
to warm up. By the time we reached
Gurnal Dubbs, it was a quite magnificent
day for mid-winter.
There
was snow on the distant fells and the air
was clear. One hardy lad was swimming
in the Dubbs. Of course, the boathouse,
a Cropper property, carried a date: the
year 1986.
We
Burneboyos and the Potterman lunched, bang
on noon, to Tony's delight, atop of a rocky
mound.
The
Stafellows remained below, suitably not
grouped with us albeit within shouting distance.
The
separation was maintained for the return.
The Potterman went back the way he
came, Stafellows dropped down from Potter
Tarn.....
.....
to the River Kent via the Ghyll Pool whilst
we Burneboyos took the Side House route
off the fell. We didn’t even encounter
each other by the river as, although our
routes overlapped, we were on opposite banks.
Civilisation was reached at Cowan
Head.
Back
in Burneside, more years appeared; 1898
over a door; 1897 at the Bryce Institute.
Then a much more modern slate carved
1989 with intriguing initials. It
looked as if it were waiting for a suitable
building on which to be mounted.
A
cluster of buildings set back from the road
had plaques on the wall. One inscribed
EDITH CROPPER 1853 – 1923 and the other
CHARLES CROPPER 1852 – 1924. I turned
round and saw that in an enclosure was an
astrolabe with more inscription but no date.
As I approached I failed to notice
the ice on the floor and slipped.
If you will excuse the pun, about
which the family must be heartily sick,
I nearly came a cropper.
God
gave sunny hours to the home of Charles
and Edith Cropper May his light shine
on these sixteen homes built in memory of
them.
I
saw no more dates other than at the Junction
House that was still boasting the year 1835.
So
ended BOOTboys
year 2020, a very strange one in which our
activities, like so much else, have been
radically affected by the pandemic. As
Millicent would have sung “That was the
Year that was, it’s over, let it go.” Gladly.
Let’s hope that 2021 proves to be
memorable for much more positive reasons.
Don,
Wednesday 30th December 2020
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