Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 01 – Darkly Seen
Terrible winter weather on the night made one expect that things would be quiet for the Golden Ball Ales n Tales session. There were public transport warnings too. Setting off in really good time to make up for this led to jumping straight on a bus (which was probably a really late one from earlier) and getting there ages before expected. There were just five of us in the bar and a roaring fire in the corner. Then came the power cut; it hit most of York apparently. Strangely the five of us got talking once it was dark, and oddly enough I realised I knew two of the people in there once we were in the dark too. Candles came out and with the roaring fire we were looking at an atmospheric yet, shall we say, cosy evening. As we were starting to think this would all be great, the alarm started and couldn’t be turned off.
Just as Ales n Tales was due to start, back came the power, off went the alarms, on came the till, and in came the crowds. No really, real crowds; all gathered in and waiting for a show. It was a very good night; and my freezer was alright when I got home too.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 02 – Golden Happenings
Now one cannot narrate the experiences gathered at an Ales n Tales session in the Golden Ball without acknowledging the atmosphere there. It is owned. It is owned by the people who love the place. The details recreated here are mainly anecdotal but the understanding gathered whilst listening over a beer is that a whole host of folks made this thing happen. This pub continues to exist because they got together and now own shares – or ‘a share’ anyway. It is clear that the email list of those involved runs into hundreds and they all wanted this jewel of the community to continue.
Earlier in the story above there was the impression of a quiet start, given that my evening began with just five in the bar; this doesn’t take into account the other rooms, or the vibrant spirit of the spot. The snug was well huddled, the side room had some sort of society in it (a history group as far as we understood), the back room held a union meeting; this place always seems to be alive and happening.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 03 – Golden Readiness
It was the energy of the Golden Ball which made the Ales n Tales evening a real experience, Word had got out, messages had been sent, flyers distributed, posters had really worked (for a change) and the gang were there. The dynamic of these Ales n Tales events has been mentioned before, the expectation that the public (the public hosted by the publican) would come along and do exactly what we asked of them. That isn’t how people work, especially while relaxing in a beloved pub where they feel like part of the team. Tales was the word that had jumped out of the publicity, and tales is what they were expecting. They weren’t a random selection of people at tables they were ready to be entertained; entertained in the old way with stories and human experiences. So here we will see a fair few stories with a wide range of topics which were requested from the storyteller.
Footnote: of course, pubs being what they are, once the performance was over, everyone wanted to chip in and add their wisdoms and thoughts; experiences and comic happenings. Read on…
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 04 – Snappy Break
There was a call for a look in the case, the battered brown case of things from way back, so out came, the pipe; the clay pipe which actually is a modern one, probable made for collectors (certainly one among us recalled a rack of these by the fire which were never smoked, but avidly added to).
Here was a memory straight away, the hard working tenant farmer; just a little ways out from York, where relatives would sojourn and become part of the country while they visited hard-working rural folk. We are talking calendar-country, as in many of the beautiful old villages where people feel part of York, yet are just a little removed and have something special; contemplate this… They have us surrounded.
Here a recollection of that clay pipe, and the labourers out with the ‘Maister’ working the fields. After hard toil and yet still only part ways through the day, there would be a call for a bit of a rest. With their Massey–Harris band around their legs to fend off the rats and with their caps on backwards to keep the sweat out of their eyes they would flop down and accept the delivery of refreshments from the ‘this-and-that-there-man’.
‘Maister’ would sit apart a little, not out of any kind of elitist principle, but because, he was the one who thought; thought deeply. For such vision and contemplation one obviously had to have a pipe, for a mere tenant farmer this had to be a clay pipe. There would be another rest time and the pipe would come out from the west-cohit pocket and it was a little shorter. Another day, another field and the routine was repeated, but this time the pipe was snapped even shorter, a look of acceptance and the pipe was lit regardless. Never to be daunted the pipe would always do until the return to the farm. The ‘Maister’ was even seen on occasions to pull a pipe out of his pocket which was hardly more than a bowl; he would fill it nonetheless and with the tiny bit of stem in his mouth would set to and light it… ‘Ooch! Ouch’; he burnt lips. The way forward was to take a good quick drag and then step back from the heat; smack the lips to try and cool them, then dare to face the heat of the shortened clay pipe again. There was nothing like a good smoke, (they used to say), when one was having a break, and a bit of a think. Ouch!
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 05 – Rest Room
If you, like a lady amongst us in the Golden Ball, are thinking of the idea of getting that old clay pipe and blowing a few bubble then you are as good as in there with us among the atmosphere of Ales n Tales; back in the time of childhood. So we were all to become, as we were called over to the topic of the Hungate dig. Now there might have been in-site recoveries of such as the cordwainer’s guild, tanners, and even older than these medieval findings; the thing that was of fascination for us was the slums. Call them slums if you will, these people were un-homed in the late 1930s and resettled in another area, hopefully better than here. Lets face it anywhere would have been better than here. All that remains are narrow streets and bare brick foundations; one up one downs with no back way and up to seventeen people lodging together in an area smaller than a modest caravan. Stinking workplaces at either end of the street; these people hardly got away from the street. Unless of course they were to find some contemplative solace in the row of toilets at the end of the lane.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 06 – Pipe in Pipe
Pipe in Pipe
Here we are at the end of the 1937 lane in Hungate and upon the toilet, in the row shared by all, was an old fellow, an old Irish fellow most likely, most probably new to the city. Outside was a queue and they were becoming quite impatient; this didn’t faze our subject however, he was smoking his pipe. He was almost certainly thinking back to the old land of home and you can be sure there was a woman on his mind. The woman he was dreaming of was Erin, the love of his life most likely.
We ‘know’ this because a commercial archaeologist went down into the site to check on progress; she found the team working away and all looked good. There by the side of the dig was a skip which caught her attention, it was filled with old red clay sewerage pipes, stacked high they were. She ‘just had to’ ask the team what they were planning to do with them. They said that they were finished with them and were moving onto another aspect of the project. To her they represented a whole deep chunk of history. She turned back to the diggers and pointed out that some of them may have contents. The crew appeared disinterested and reckoned she could do what she liked with them. She took up a red clay u-bend at random and threw it to the floor; here among the shattered pot was a complete pipe, a clay pipe; it was fashioned to have a harp on the one side and the name Erin upon the other.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 07 – Whimsical Discovery
Here’s where the collection of Hungate stories runs a little childish perhaps; with an imagined cheeky kid; for when the exhibition was shown from the dig, as well as the pipe, another thing which caught attention was a small blue piece of twisted glass. When these few inches of delicate glasswork were asked about it was explained that, this was a whimsy. This answer served to further intrigue without really giving any answer. Further explanation was offered that a whimsy was a thing which was of no real use; some of us with memories of older generations making comments on us ‘young uns’ may well recall the phrase ‘neither use nor ornament’. This bit o glass would have been an ornamental possession; something to show the value of the bearer. For this shard of the past comes from an ornamental walking cane. Go back there now: tiny street, stinking factories, massively overcrowded dwellings, barely a scrap to live on, and here processing grandly comes a long-suited, fine-bearded, elderly strutting fine gentleman with all the pomp and ceremony of one who had been brought up in privilege to prosper with finery; he owns these people in his mind and he is perusing all he commands. Stand back poor people and see the grandeur of the man you respect. Now this shard of glass could have come here to this scarp of earth for many reasons, but the idea of the fine gent rise up and stay in the mind. Stay there now and conjure for yourself the image; now be the small poor child with nary a crumb o food to live by, who is struggling to survive in the only life he has ever known. Step out now, in your vision of the past, and lift a stone, be ready, and, throw. The stick is smashed. The tiny bit of glass discovered all these years later.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 08 – Final Attempt
All of the ‘above’ on the topic of the whimsy could well be true; the imagined story line, the archaeologist’s studied opinion, but, there was a cry from the crowd. From within the group who had come along to support the storytelling, (from the Aspire club), came a new idea; this was an idea that we cannot really argue with, for there was history in it. The piece of twisted glass might not have been strutted along here by a fine gent, it may very well have been laid down here in the earth as a belated record of a glass workers efforts; of the skill required to become a qualified and respected worker of the lightning blast of turning sand to the magical thing that is glass. This young person had made a ’masterpiece’. This was a test piece; make one yourself if you can, for here is your final challenge coming back to you from the past. All those years of learning; now make something that surpasses all that has gone before. There will be an examination of your prowess; they will inspect. You have made a twisted blue glass walking cane you are now entitled by acclaim to become a testified worker of the glass.
Step back into your life and see if you have been tested to such a standard, have you excelled; is there a masterpiece from you?
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 09 – A Good One
A Good One
There were other Ales n Tales nights where we have talked of the crew of retirees who had found a way to fill their partly panicked, possibly worried, time; of how their solution was to go out together for a walk, for a walk around the walls of York and to stop off as they spied untried public houses.
They had found allsorts of experiences by trying out new hostelries and getting talking to people; here in the midst of the heady ales and fancy tales was a reconnoitre with this experience. A chap who had retired and been part of a wandering party, who had turned from the walls towards a pub that had changed his life, and he came to us this very night to tell. The end of life had come, he had no job; he tried to portray confidence of being a solid happy regular person but inside he was worried that his time of being part of things was over. That drink, that choice, that moment, had made a difference and lifted him, he was moved forward. When you have given your life to a job, the job of receiving deliveries, recognising the product, seeing the label, knowing the dress, the hat, the shoes, you knew where they needed to be, you knew all the details, all the aspects. From being a guy who had retired from working in a department store with a brown work-coat on to being unneeded, to suddenly hearing from someone in a pub that there is a need. The next thing you know he is working in a charity shop and they have never before had anyone with such experience. As a bag is delivered a dress is lifted out, its value, its size, its season are all immediately understood; The guy? He is very much appreciated and is making a difference in a glance, in a glance, in a glance. ‘That one goes there.’ ‘Store that one for the wedding season!’
Keep this guy, he is a good one.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 010 – Sprightly
We cannot talk about this next topic, you haven’t heard; this didn’t happen. It did and they were out there. Well we are going back a long long time to a group of workers of around fifty years of age back in the 1940s. These workers back in wartime, one of whom passed on the tale of the main office being bombed; everything was gone. This was a night time event and was an office, so there were luckily no casualties. We could see the repercussions for many a year though. For in no time, there they were on their pensions and looking far too sprightly for their age.
All the place was gone, all the records were destroyed. There was a shack set up as an office and staff set to to restore the state of the records, and all the workers got a letter; fill in the details and send them back to the new records office. Suddenly we are looking at a canteen full of folks who had no identity, they sat there and looked at their letters and supped at their coffees. An idea struck one of them and it spread. All of them made a pact, they all stuck to it, and they were older as a result. All the workers around that canteen decided; they would add five years to their age. They agreed, they stuck to it. They all retired early. This is being recorded here on this website, but we don’t know who they were, or who they worked for – they had a long happy retirement.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 011 – Bonfire Fever
The little recording device used for note-taking set off discussions. Someone called it a Dictaphone, and another said not so, that was a device from the past. They were not long after cassette players apparently, which were ancient recording devices. Not so for one of our group who tells us they still use one.
This sparked recollections of a cassette tape of gathered memories from an old cassette recorded in the early eighties by a chap in his nineties. There were some fascinating details which came from the recollections of this. One in particular was of him remembering the Mafeking bonfires. Most didn’t know what this was about so the moment was relived. Well, we didn’t start a bonfire but the time of the relief of Mafeking was related to the group. May 1900 was the time of the rescue of the forces under siege and news spread to Britain and everyone celebrated. In quite a wild way it seems. There were bonfires built in the streets almost everywhere and folks danced and shouted and celebrated. A fair few things which would have been useful were lost and the crowds threw anything to hand onto the fires to help keep the spirit of the party going. Around the country old buildings still show the signs of blistered, buckled paint and woodwork as the fires grew larger. We partied and we celebrated.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 012 – Rattling Gun
Now if you have an interest in the Seige of Mafeking you might want to research further but here in an anecdotal way are the details related of the tale. Baden-Powell and just a crew of officers were dispatched to Africa and the troops that he commanded were gathered from the area as volunteers, these included many lads in their teens; these were used as scouts and runners and the whole scout movement came out of this as a result. They withstood 217 days of onslaught, and mainly we hear, due to complete resourcefulness.
Stakes were driven into the ground and the troops were instructed to step over imaginary barbed wire. They had but one machine gun and an old light. During bombings everyone hid underground in tunnelled bunkers, and when night came, troops were sent out with the gun and the light. The light had been placed in a polished biscuit tin so it seemed like a search light. The gun would fire a few shots in one direction, while the search light beamed out from the opposite side of the town. Then they were both moved round a bit, a few shots from the gun, a sweep of light across the open ground, then off they went again. This way they had it seem that they had lots of guns and lots of lights.
There was one other gun eventually; as they were digging, something metal was discovered in the ground. It turned out to be an ancient cannon with a stock of cannon balls. So it was dug up and made ready for use. It had lettering emblazoned on the side, no one knew what the lettering had meant originally, but it stood out clear what it meant to them; all the lettering said was, BP1.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 013 – A Lady’s Wildness
A Lady’s Wildness
How do we know of what went on during those 217 days of siege? The tale recounted for us talks of a Captain’s widow. Alone, except for her maid, it was felt that it was unfair on her to be subjected to the bombing and risk of being in Mafeking. So she was smuggled out of the camp while a distraction was made at the other side of the circle of imaginary barbed wire. She was free from the terrible restrictions of war, but she was free in Africa. She, and her maid, found themselves in a wild land with big cats and hyenas and hazardous conditions. They survive for a long period and then decided it would be less of a risk to be back in Mafeking. They somehow managed to smuggle themselves back in there. She then started to write of her experiences and her diary notes were smuggled out on a regular basis and ended up in the British papers. Everyone wanted to read her records of these exploits overseas. The struggles of Baden-Powell and his forces held the nation gripped as a result. There was a timely feel to these accounts it seems with comments such as, ’Sergeant Johnson bought it today, as a result of the confounded bombing, but we had a jolly good game of cricket’.
Footnote: During the relating of these tales one chap sat quiet in a corner smiling, then as all quietened he told us how he had listened to these stories way back when he was a scout at St Paul’s.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 014 – It Just is Cricket
It Just is Cricket
Cricket! – How could they play cricket in the middle of the siege of Mafeking you may be wondering. This is a tale from a different age, with a different sensibility. There were Sundays to consider. Terrible bombings continued throughout the week, but when it came to Sundays all the hostilities stopped. Baden-Powell ensured these rest days were full of fun and distraction for the troops we hear. Concert parties were arranged. There was of course always a game of cricket to be played.
The hostile forces observed these activities from a distance, and in the end, the commander of the Boers, we are told, telephoned Baden-Powell. He said how he had noticed that they played cricket every Sunday and how his troops didn’t really have anything to do. So he suggested that next Sunday a team from his side come across and had a bit of a game. Baden-Powell explained that they were already in the middle of a game of cricket and that they couldn’t entertain the Boers until the present game was over. So the commander asked how long their current game of cricket had been going on. Baden-Powell replied, ‘Two hundred days not out!’ and hung up the phone.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 015 – Little Reassurance
Is it just York, but you step up to the bar and end up in a conversation and the next thing you know, you are hearing tales of personal experience from all around the globe. I think we are talking oil drill workers here, but we are certainly talking polar bears. This was a chap who had worked in a team up in the far north of Norway. The land of the Sami he tells us. Here as they went out surveying they were at risk of encountering polar bears. This concerned them quite a bit and they had enquired of their manager what the best action was. The guy tells us that they were given a pistol. They were instructed to take turns to carry it. So he had commented that it would be that person’s job to stand and shoot the poplar bear if it attacked. He was told that there was no ‘if’ involved, if they came across one it would attack. He was also told that his thinking was wrong. Shooting a vicious polar bear would only make it fiercer. In no circumstances were they to try and kill a polar bear with just a pistol. So there is left the question what the pistol was for. They were instructed that when they saw a poplar bear they were all to run as fast as they possibly could and keep going as long as they possibly could. This still leaves the question of the pistol. They were instructed that whoever had the turn of carrying the pistol had to spin around and shoot the man at the back for the poplar bear to attack; that way the rest of them had a bit of a chance of getting away. I thoughtfully sipped my beer and felt grateful I was in Bishophill.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 016 – Party Crasher
A lady at a table informed us that she always had ghosts in her houses wherever she had lived; she also said that they seem to follow her around from residence to residence. One story she related was of an unwelcome spirit encountered when she was young. This figure of a man was seen wandering in the house, he seemed lost, but he also seemed antagonistic as if they were the ones who shouldn’t be there. A neighbour told them of how she too saw a figure and she described his appearance. Her father said that she was describing an airman and that a plane had crashed in the wartime in the area which was their gardens.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 017 – Spooky Attic
I was informed by one person during the course of the evening that they enjoy listening to my ghost stories on the radio. They listen to them on a regular basis when they come on early in the morning. Strangely I haven’t done that spot at that time for well over a year, so how the stories are working their way through to them I do not know. One that had stood out for them was the tale of the man in the attic. A woman had approached me in the street (I get loads of stories this way) and told me of when she had moved house several year ago. She had gone up the ladder into the attic to put some boxes in there and had felt unwelcome. She had frozen to the spot and was just about to turn and go from the place. She was pushed. She dropped the box and tipped over backwards. The hatch was behind her and she tumbled down the ladder breaking her collarbone. She didn’t ever go in the attic again; she didn’t want to upset ‘Cyril’ as she called him. The boxes? They are still up there and she plans to do without their contents thank you very much.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 018 – The Nature of Hob
The Nature of Hob
Hob. There is debate about the nature of Hob. Especially the one which stands on Hob Moor. There by the plague stone is the figure of a small fellow. Now the verse beside this says that Hob was a knight who set up this stone upon returning from crusade; that this is to remember him. Others say that Hobs of long ago where creatures, creatures from the realm of faerie! – That the meaning of the stone has become changed over time and that the knight placed this stone here originally to warn all those who might choose to travel across ‘Hob’s’ Moor. There is certainly a log tradition within folklore of talk of Hobs. There were many types and it perhaps is a local name for anything of a pixy or fairy nature from our past; a generic name in the north of this land for magical creatures.
Following this conversation I made a pledge to myself to keep away from the moor, at least at night.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 019 – House Hob
There are also household Hobs we are informed. Another chipped in that these are like the creatures in the Harry Potter films. In fact this is correct but the other way around. Housey Hobs would keep you safe from trixy spirits. Creatures such as Eggy who comes creeping out of a cracked eggshell and forms into a wobbly white being who climbs out of the pan to cause mayhem in the home. Dusty who constructs himself from the messy bits you have been too lazy to clean away from the corners. There was a host of these such creatures in the stories of old. One has to wonder at the state of the poor children who were told of these things in such a way as to be sure they were real. Watch out for Sleepy, or Sneaky or Scaredy-pants.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 020 – Spotted Fairies
There are fairies at the bottom of the garden we are told, it was cried out in fact, but upon enquiry the commenter said that they believed in many things but not in fairies.
The call came up to consider the case of the Cottingley Fairies. Famous in their time as the photographs of them, taken by young Elsie and Frances, were spread across the globe. Now at the time they were believed for a long time (and some still do so) yet it was also claimed that they had made them out of paper and pinned then to the garden. Both Elsie and Frances were interviewed when they were quite elderly. We understand that is was Elsie who told magazine The Unknown that they had made the whole thing up; that there was never any truth in it all. After she had passed away another magazine interviewed Frances we hear, and she commented that Elsie would have said that as she never liked any fuss. Some were paper cut-outs yes, she explained, but that was only because the fairies at the bottom of the garden wouldn’t let themselves be shown on film.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 021 – Craning You See
Craning You See
So we’ve had interest in folklore, bargain hunting, history, travel, archaeology; we’ve seen people pouring over maps and plans in a corner, we seen folks playing board games (Dominion and Cluedo but thankfully no Jenga). One has to have interests, and these include cranes, yes cranes. There are those who love steam, some who are gripped by tractors, others Manga, here we have a feller who has a comprehensive understanding of the nature of lifting items high and placing heavy loads.
So he enjoyed the story of the bargain hunter which was told on the evening. You may be one of those who goes hurtling round fields at dawn in the search of some illusive wonder. There are plenty of car-booter’s among us, not many though that come back with a Portacabin. There it was at the car boot with a ‘for sale’ sign on it and this chap just had to have it. It was delivered thankfully. It was delivered on a lorry but presumable this flat-back had some sort of lifting equipment to lower to the ground (over to the expert for the facts on that one). The buyer didn’t want it in the front garden but that was the only place the lorry driver would deliver it; the future, guest room, the study, the retreat, the hobby room, the possibilities were endless. There was only one problem; the partner wasn’t too keen on it being on the front lawn – who would be. When you are a bargain hunter one should always think through the repercussions of a purchase. Here was a large house with no back access and a huge thing the neighbours were starting to complain about. Enquires were made, many enquiries, in the end the only solution was offered by a firm with a very large crane. Now the exact type of crane isn’t recorded (sorry) but we are assured it was like one of those huge really tall ones you see on sites where they are building tower blocks. It filled the street, it filled the sky-line, but it did the job; eventually the Portacabin was lifted up (at great expense) and was lifted right over the house and placed perfectly in the back garden.
I think the purchaser had to hide in it for quite a long time before he dare come out and face the wrath at home.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 022 – Final Facts
Now tales get around, and they vary with the telling. This is a small world too. One as a teller knows that sometimes you get up and relate a gripping real-life experience and someone in the audience calls out that they were there, that this was a relative of theirs, that you weren’t there, that you nicked the story off someone else. This has been true in the case of prize bare-knuckle fighters down old Walmgate, engine drivers with shovels, family anecdotes and of course, perhaps more so of all, with ghost stories.
Now back at the Ales n Tales at the Fulford Arms we heard the tale of the old man who wandered through the house. He went through without raising concern, he was the owner of the rented house and had a right to be there; a smart-casual, confident old man who hardly glanced at them as he paraded through the house to the dining room. There he was with his bright red cardigan and his brimming confidence and the students who lived there never questioned him. They discovered later that he had died years beforehand and they then set to thinking about it and realised; they saw him walk through the house to the back room a few times every week, but had never thought before – they never saw him come back out.
Well here at the Golden Ball we had the partner of that guy who had been the student then, and she too told the story. When I said how her feller had told me the tale previously she said how she bets he told me that the guy always wore a red cardigan. I accepted this as an acknowledged fact yes. ‘Nonsense,’ she exclaimed. It turns out whenever she had seen him she swears he was wearing a brown cardigan; Red? Nonsense!
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 023 – Same Old Same New
Same Old Same New
Dreams, over the sipping of a draft ale, there was an interest in dreams. I was stood buying a packet of p-nuts and in a little world of my own at the time and out of the blue the guy stood by said, ‘Dreams’; he had been thinking about dreams. It strikes me that now I have done Ales n Tales, wherever I go people will want to tell me their stories, their experiences, and their contemplations. Such as this, Dreams! He had been thinking about dreams, how people say that they have a recurrent dream. People do indeed often say (to me anyway) that they have had the same dream over and over, that they dream a dream that they last dreamed years ago, or that they frequently wake after the very same dream as before.
Well, our friend has been thinking about this, over his pint, and something different to this strikes him about the issue; and here it is. – When you dream a dream that is the dream you dreamed as you have dreamed before and you see real echoing significance in this, what has actually happened is, you have dreamed a completely new dream, which you have never had before, but – in the dream you dreamed that it was a recurrent dream that you had experienced many times before.
Folks in pubs think deeply.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 024 – Not Like That
Not Like That
We heard about Tommy Cooper, and about comedians generally. It was wondered by one, that if a famous comedian nowadays is wandering about in life, or is visiting the shops, if someone spots them, are they still funny? Do people laugh at them all the time?
As for the late great Tommy Cooper, one of our many here tells us that he used to live in the same street as Tommy. Apparently before he was a magician (if that is what he was) he was a police officer; the local bobby.
We hear of what he always had in his pocket. In his top pocket of his jacket for when he was a called upon to offer a tip; a waitress, a taxi-driver, a hotel doorman – Tommy would say, ‘Here’ and pop a crumpled gift into their hand, they would feel the paper texture and be quite pleased, ‘Have a drink on me,’ he would say as he walked off. They were very pleased, then they looked down to see what size note they had been given by the great comedian Tommy himself. There in their hand was not a fiver or even a pound note; they were holding a t bag.
‘Have a drink on me.’
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 025 – Like That
By chance, in the battered old suitcase of props there was a trade mark item associated with Tommy Cooper, yes a Fez. As one of our attendees stood up to tell a tale of the late great Tommy the hat was brought out and popped upon his head. He recalled how Tommy Cooper had met the queen. After the show (presumably at the London Palladium) he had lined up with all the other stars and along had come the Queen to great them all. When she approached Tommy and shook his hand, (no she didn’t pop a t bag in his hand), she had a quiet and friendly chat with him, and thanked him for his marvellous show. As she turned to talk away Tommy asked if he could ask her a question. She replied, yes, that he could do. He asked if she liked football. She replied that no she didn’t really enjoy the game, so Tommy asked, ‘So can I have your cup final tickets?’
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 026 – Indigenous Welcome
The full story was told, the background to the experience of someone who had been to America recently. They had been over there during Thanksgiving so we heard the tale behind that special day. The day of Thanksgiving is about to be told here, (as told in the pub), but it is also the story of how Americans came to speak English.
Those pilgrims disembarked in an expanse of arable land and they had their farming stock with them. They planted their seeds as they had always known to do. Seasons are different at opposites sides of the world, and the seeds faired very poorly. So did the settlers, there was much illness and poverty. In desperation a few of them went hunting. As they travelled they saw a group from an indigenous tribe, these tribal people did not seem concerned about them. Indeed as they passed them the group overheard their English voices and said the only word they had in that tongue, ‘Welcome’. This didn’t seem possible, how could they know an English word. After attempts to communicate, they realised they had no other English. They did have something though, knowledge, knowledge of where they could lead them to be understood. They directed the settlers to a tribe somewhat further off, and there the group met ‘Squanto’.
He had fluent English and he helped them, He brought about their survival in fact. They flourished and prospered as a result of his guidance and tuition on the ways of this new land. So much so that the group expanded over the coming years and formed new communities. Word spread among ships and other English people came and joined them. Gradually over the years the coast had settlements all along where English was the language. So as other settlers arrived from around the world, be it Spanish, Polish or wherever from, the language they heard spoken was, yes, English. New arrivals thought that this meant the dominant language in this land was English, which indeed it was. So they all decided they would have to learn it.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 027 – The Full Story
The Full Story
We hear of ‘Squanto’ in the ‘above’ story. How he came to be in the western lands with a fluency in English is an amazing journey with the twist of fate that has changed the nature of the states and helped all flourish. Here is that tale as recalled from the telling at Ales n Tales. Years before the pilgrims arrival he had been kidnapped. A Spanish ship took him away with them and used him as a slave. At a European port he was sold and worked another ship to England. When harboured here he escaped. He lived as a free man here and found work and took up the local language. Then he began to think that it may be possible to see his loved ones again. So he approached a ship that was bound for the Americas. He asked them if he could work his passage. He would need no payment and would only ask for his keep for the duration of the journey. He was of course widely experienced in the tasks of the seaman and he was fluent in the Captain’s language. He worked his passage and eventually saw the site of his homeland. He disembarked, he was here, he was unfortunately around two hundred miles from his own tribe and had a very long and difficult walk ahead of him. At last he found the way and there before him were his tribe and his loved ones. Amazed to see him again and eager to hear his tale they welcomed him with open arms and floods of tears.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 028 – Spooky Rachel AD
Spooky Rachel AD
Clothes don’t die do they! This statement over a pint had this humble story-gatherer intrigued. The sense of what they are on about was enquired upon. It seems the thinking is, that clothes are not a living thing, yet people say they when they see a ghost it has clothes on. If there is such a thing as ghosts and they can appear back from the dead then surely they would be nude.
Another among us claimed that the spirit of the person returning doesn’t look like they did when they were here anymore. They perhaps are all shining spirit and wispy or they look like an angel or something, but that they show us an image of what they were like when they were known by us so we will accept them and believe that we have been visited by a loved one long gone.
Yet another explained that ghosts are not a person who had passed away but rather were a projection from the mind of the onlooker, they were a sign of their wish to see someone again projected into the world from their own unconscious mind.
A further member of our current discussion pointed out that he hopes the first person was right and that ghosts cannot wear clothes when they appear to us, because he was hoping to see Rachel Welsh.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 029 – The Devil’s Door
The Devil’s Door
This is a factor for our history and perhaps a ghost tale of sorts. There was mention of the hooded figure which is reported to be seen exiting the church down Peaseholme through the small door in the side. There is another being that was supposed to come out of that door too. Not a ghost as such, the devil; for historically many churches had these small doors. They go back to the days when it was felt that a new born baby had vulnerability; that they were in danger of being connected to the devil. There was risk from them which was perceived until the child was eventually christened. At the service the small door was opened and at the point where the infant was blessed by the priest, the evil spirit within them was expelled; the devil himself was believed to fly out of the babe and be expelled from the church, to speed out through the small open door built there especially for the purpose.
The devil gone through the devil’s door.
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 030 – Choched
The ‘above’ tale of the devil’s door and the historical belief that there was something evil inside a child until it is christened struck a chord. I don’t exactly go back that far, although I do go back a long way. When I was born there perhaps a remnant of this kind of thinking left within the culture; you had to be ‘Choched’.
My mother will have been discharged from the maternity unit and taxi was waiting for her. She carried me out of the hospital and instructed the driver of her destination (not home) and of the stop off point along the way. She asked him to drive by way of the church. Once there the driver had to wait while mum carried me through the church yard up into the open church (yes churches were open all the time back then). All she did was stand still in the church for a short while, and then I had been ‘choched’. The taxi then took her to the local pram shop. Here the pram was waiting. It was all bought and paid for but it was bad luck to have it at home before the baby. The driver was paid off, I was carried into the pram shop and inserted in my new pram. Then my parents proudly walked the rest of the way home. As people saw them approaching they would become excited and rush to see the new born baby. Just as they approached the pram and just before they reached in to touch the child, (and give it a lucky coin), they would pause. They would take a slight step back and look up at the parents and say, ‘It has been choched has it!’
Ales n Tales – The Golden Ball Stories 031 – Ghost with Teddy
Ghost with Teddy
Another child to finish this section, but this time it is a ghost story. The lady who had told us of a few ghosts she had encountered relates the tale of the ghost in her current house, a shy small spirit she says she started sensing being around. She had a feeling there was some sort of ghost in the house and she eventually mentioned it and others agreed. After a while she started hearing footsteps pottering about upstairs; small feet, running steps. Then she would see a fleeting figure, small and appearing to carry something. Gradually it has come to her that this is a boy, a boy carrying a teddy bear. The timid spirit had steadily become more accustomed to them being there and has drawn neared and nearer. The last sighting was of a diminutive figure in the doorway of the living room, obviously trying to conjure up the courage to come into the room. She awaits a sense of a small extra weight upon the sofa beside her.
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