Barn Meadow View (2024)

06/09/2024

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

This week we tell the tale of two brothers who left a legacy that not only put Herefordshire on the map but centuries later is still going strong. It all started in a little rectory in Credenhill around 1830. The rector and his wife had two sons Fred and Percy who enjoyed all that country life had to offer. Fred was sociable, gregarious and fun while his younger brother Percy was quite shy, more reserved, a deep thinker. Although the boys were very different in character they had an amazing bond, one that would endure throughout their lives.

Fred headed off to University in Cambridge to read classics but due to ill health as a child Percy's education had suffered so he remained in Herefordshire. Percy pondered his future and after much thinking and useful advice from his mother he decided to use the knowledge and resources he had on his doorstep. During his time in Herefordshire Percy's father had become an authority on orcharding and apple and pear production. On his arrival to Herefordshire the rector had witnessed the sad demise of the county's orchards and sought to begin a revival and it was the rectory's very own 'Glebe Orchard' that inspired Percy to embark on his journey as a cider maker.

Percy started off small, he borrowed a neighbour's old mill and used the family pony to produce his first batch of golden nectar. Every spare moment that Fred had away from University he would spend supporting Percy in his new venture and before long a year had passed. Their endeavours had been so successful that it was time to move operations to Hereford city. For the sum of £350 Percy's father purchased an acre of land in Ryelands Street and raised a further sum to build a shack where Percy and Fred could work from. And from humble beginnings the seeds of a cider factory were sewn, not one of them knowing what the future had in store. That their venture would eventually make them one of the biggest cider producers in the world.

As things continued to go well Fred decided to leave University and join Percy who was now working very long days and living in the shack on site. Their mother would send them supper and a local cottager Thomas would bring them tea and snippets of food. Times were hard and money scarce but the two brothers persevered despite being on the edge of financial collapse on a few occasions. Fred used his connections and friendships from University to secure investment, however not all those who were considered 'friends' turned out to be that as the brothers soon found out.

The time had come for Percy and Fred to expand their business, they had assessed that they needed two more acres to comfortably allow them to grow and meet demand. So they discussed their plans over lunch one day with the family solicitor. He was also their uncle by marriage and highly regarded by their parents. After the lunch the solicitor approached the vendor and purchased the ten acres surrounding Percy and Fred's land, not to help them it later transpired, but in his own words 'to bleed them dry'.

Percy offered him a fair price for the two acres he needed but was met with a clear refusal. However events were to turn in Percy's favour, for the solicitor and the vendor both died the same night. The contract for sale of the land had to be taken over and luckily this afforded Percy the opportunity to purchase the land with very favourable mortgage terms. After two years Percy sold off three acres of the land, cleared his mortgage and had plenty of land left for further expansion.

The Bulmer's empire grew, the brothers worked exceptionally well together both playing to their strengths and skills. Fred became the travelling salesman while Percy concentrated on growing the business. They experimented with flavours, travelled the continent in search of new methods and skills and began purchasing fruit from other local orchards to meet the demand for their cider.

The rest as they say is history, generations of the Bulmer family followed and household names were born, Woodpecker, Strongbow and Pomagne to name a few. You might be interested to know too that in recent years the team at Bulmers produced a special one off cider and perry for the Beer on the Wye festival. Made using the same artisan methods that Percy and Fred would have used in their early days of production.

Bulmers or 'Boomers' as it is affectionately known is a wonderful part of Herefordshire history and heritage which should be celebrated. Let's all raise a glass this weekend to Percy and Fred, a glass of cider of course!

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore

These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

30/08/2024

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

You may be surprised to hear that exorcisms or 'ghost laying' were once very common in Herefordshire. Ghosts could cause all sorts of mayhem, so needed to be subdued. To 'pray down' a ghost involved taming it and then reducing it to such a size that it could be trapped in a bottle or similar vessel so that it could be disposed of. Many trapped spirits were thrown into rivers or pools, water beneath bridges was a particular favourite. In some instances ghost laying was known to be just a temporary measure. Where a 'ban' would be put on the spirit, whereby the spirit would only be captured for a stated amount of years.

One such exorcism happened in Hereford Cathedral. It had been noted by the clergy there that a ghost had been seen wandering around the cathedral. It had been identified as a previous member of the cathedral staff, a one Mr Hoskins who had died in 1786. He was by all accounts a benign spirit who drifted around causing no harm. But it was deemed inappropriate by the clergy to have him wandering about the cathedral, their place of worship, so it was agreed that an exorcism would be performed to rid them of Mr Hoskin's ghost.

So just before midnight one evening twelve clergymen assembled in the cathedral each bearing a lit candle. You may or may not realise but candles were a very important part of the exorcism process. To all accounts it was essential to keep a light burning particularly when dealing with an angry spirit. As they waited to begin a nervousness set in. Some of the group had not performed an exorcism before and were unsure of what to expect. Then it happened, the cathedral bell rang signalling that it was midnight and the ghost was duly summoned before them. Mr Hoskins had been a very placid man in life and so too was his wandering spirit. But having been summoned seemed to annoy him and he was now very angry. Aggressively he began yelling at the clergymen.

The spirit of Mr Hoskins did everything to frustrate and resist his exorcism. One by one he blew out the candles that the clergymen were holding, his power knew no bounds. The ancient cathedral walls began to shake as if an earthquake had taken hold and the exorcism seemed to be failing. Until only one lit candle remained. This happened to be in the hands of a frail clergyman called Canon Underwood. Frail he may have been but it did not stop him subduing Mr Hoskin's ghost who had by this time become tired and less resistant. Canon Underwood managed to shrink the ghost down so small that he was able to trap it in a bottle much to the relief of his fellow clergymen. The bottle containing Mr Hoskin's ghost was duly buried under a bridge at Byster's Gate in the city. However the story doesn't quite end there. It was said that the exorcism and subsequent battle with Mr Hoskin's ghost had put such a strain on the cathedral that shortly afterwards the West Tower collapsed.

So think of this story should you ever be beneath a bridge in Hereford and happen upon an old bottle or two. Careful as you open it, just like a genie in a bottle you could be about to release the ghost of old Mr Hoskins or some other unwanted spirit that has lain for centuries just waiting to be set free. What a spooky thought!

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore

These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

23/08/2024

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

Our tale this week comes from the village of St Weonards which lies within the area known to the Saxons (and later English) as Archenfield. Now before we get ahead of ourselves we need to head way back in time. To a time when most of Herefordshire was covered in forest. There once was a local woodcutter, who lived a lonely life out in the woods. Some thought he was a little strange, others were wary of him but all knew him to be a good man. He appeared wise, measured and gentle. His name was Weonard.

There was something about Weonard that whenever he went into the local village, people would be drawn to him and would pour out their woes. Most of the time he said nothing in return, he just listened and nodded. But this seemed to do the trick, everyone appeared to go away a little less burdened. Word soon spread and before long villagers would make their way into the forest to find Weonard and offload their problems. As the years passed and Weonard aged he moved into the village. There was always a steady stream of visitors to his home, trading gifts of food and treats just to have his ear for a while. He was no longer lonely that's for sure.

But when Weonard passed away a strange thing happened. The villagers would go and sit by his graveside and talk to him. Some would still bring gifts as they always had done when he was alive and got comfort from their one sided conversations. Such was their believe in Weonard some of his most ardent visitors began spreading the word that he was a saint. But they knew the only way that Weonard would receive a sainthood was to laud up his good deeds and convince the bishop he was worthy of the title. Having said that the bishop didn't need too much persuading, it was good business to have a saint or two in the county. Therefore Weonard was duly proclaimed a saint, promptly dug up and buried in front of the high altar in the church.

News travelled fast about this new saint and hoards of people arrived to visit the altar and divulge their troubles, rich and poor alike. With the rich leaving gifts of gold, silver and jewels. Within no time the altar sparkled and glistened in the dim lights of the candles. But as with everything time marches on and lives change. A thousand years later no-one came to worship Saint Weonard anymore, their attentions were drawn to other things. Before long the riches lying on altars like the one of St Weonard were on a list to be pillaged by the King's Commissioners. The King required them to pay for his wars and lavish lifestyle. However the villagers had long memories and other plans. Before the King's men arrived they took all the gifts and buried them in an old mound next to the church and denied all knowledge they existed when they were quizzed. And so the treasure remained in the mound. More time passed, memories faded and tales were told.

You may think that the story ends here but you would be wrong. Onto the scene comes a drover by the name of Ivor Williams. Ivor was a trusted successful chap and had made his money moving sheep and cows to London. But like every entrepreneur his sights were set on bigger things. Ivor came up with a plan to drive a load of pigs to London instead and invested his fortune in this venture. Such was his confidence that he even went so far as putting a saddle on the biggest pig so that he could ride it on the way. The drive however did not go to plan, the pigs had other ideas and he lost both them and his fortune.

On his return home he stopped off to drown his sorrows at an inn in Treago. He soon perked up though when he heard one of the locals regaling the story about St Weonard and his buried treasure. You know where this is going don't you? In the dead of night Ivor took a spade and began to dig the mound. After hours and hours of shovelling he finally hit the treasure. He was elated! A gold cup, jewels and rings. Just one of those items was enough to replace the fortune he had lost. But Ivor was greedy he wanted to take as much as he could carry. What he needed were some sacks, something he did not have. Worried that if he left the treasure both uncovered and unattended it might be discovered by another he covered it over again with soil and headed off to Hereford to do some odd jobs in order that he could buy some sacks.

At last after a few weeks he returned excited and ready to take his haul home, but there was a problem. He couldn't find the spot were he had dug up the treasure. The grass had grown over and there were no clues as to where he should start digging. Villagers found him still at the mound the following morning scratching at the earth in an almost demented way. Sadly he was taken away to St Mary's Asylum at Burghill and never seen or heard of again.

And what of the large pig with the saddle we hear you say? What happened to him? Well folklore tells that you may well see him again. If you happen to be on St Weonards mound when the clock strikes midnight the phantom pig with a saddle on his back will appear from the bushes and make his acquaintance with you. Another good reason not to be loitering around graveyards late at night we say!

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore

These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

Image: John Kenn Mortensen

16/08/2024

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

As we said before the Devil quite likes visiting Herefordshire and appearing just when you least expect it. You really do need to keep your wits about you.

In Kington at Stanner Rocks he supposedly stands and surveys Herefordshire, keeping a beady eye on those who are up to no good. In Colwall it is said that the devil appears at the megalithic stone as the full moon shines down on the village, his talons grasping and turning the stone before he disappears as quick as he came. In Dorstone he appears every midnight at Halloween dressed as a monk and walks the churchyard. Making his way to the church, climbing into the pulpit and preaching an evil sermon to the souls buried outside whose sins in life marked them down for Hell. It is rare that he is seen but when he is it strikes fear into the poor souls that have happened upon him.

On the outskirts of the village of Shobdon there is a tumulus which is known locally as the 'Devil's Shovelful' or the 'Cobbler's Mound'. There is a reason for this as you're about to find out. Shobdon was once inhabited by a very happy, god fearing population. They were a pious people who were extremely proud of their church. Their enthusiasm for godly behaviour and their very beautiful church had drawn the attention of the Devil himself and he vowed to destroy it all. And so he set out for Shobdon but not before he had loaded his shovel with a mound of earth which he intended to dump on top of the church and village.

It was early morning and the local cobbler of Shobdon was busy going about his business heading in the direction of Kington when he ran into the Devil along the road. Rooted to the spot with fear he dropped his sack of shoes and prepared for the worst. The Devil looked him right in the eyes and asked, "Is this Shobdon?" In an instant the cobbler fearing for his fellow villagers responded, "No, I'm actually looking for the same place myself. In fact I have worn out all of these shoes searching for Shobdon. It's definitely not in that direction, you'd better turn back." The Devil irritated at this response, dropped the shovel of earth where he stood and returned back up the road away from the village, muttering and cursing to himself.

Before long the story about the cobbler's meeting with the Devil spread throughout the village. People were fearful that the Devil might not give up on his quest and would someday return. So it is told that they took it upon themselves to destroy their lovely church leaving only the arches as a reminder that it once existed. It is said they lived a life of wickedness from that day forward. It looks like the Devil got his way in the end.

So remember to stay sharp as you travel the roads of Herefordshire, you never quite know who you might just bump into.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore

These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

09/08/2024

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

There are many a tale or two about the devil's visits to our county. It seems the good folk of Herefordshire are worthy of his attention, there are many a good soul that he would like to capture. Our tale this week takes us to Longtown, to the biggest farm in the area. It was a busy time for the farm owner, there were many tasks to get done, the seasons were changing, his crop needed harvesting but one of his best labourers had fallen ill. As he was wondering what he was going to do, out of nowhere appeared a dishevelled man called John asking if there was any work available. He was not a local, in fact no-one had seen him before, but he implored the farmer to give him work. Seeing this as an opportunity to fix his problems the farmer agreed but firmly told his new farm hand, "I'll have you know that I won't tolerate any shirking!"

To the farmer's surprise and relief John turned out to be a really hard worker. He could thresh a sheaf of corn with one stroke of his flail, build a stack faster than any other man and carry a load that would normally take six men to move. He never seemed to tire either. John intrigued the farmer so he decided to work alongside him one day to get to know him better. It was a busy hot day and the farmer was engaged in throwing the sheaves from the stack while John threshed them. The farmer was impressed at the speed with which John was threshing the sheaves, but even more amazing was the fact that John seemed unaffected by the summer's heat. Trying to figure out why the farmer could only deduce that he had given John the easier of the jobs and decided to swap tasks with him. But too his shock and before he knew it John had buried him beneath the sheaves. The farmer just could not keep pace with him.

At home that evening the farmer pondered the day. How could it be that he a very fit man could not keep up with John, something wasn't right. The next day the farmer visited a wise man in the village, he needed some advice. The farmer recounted his experiences and his concerns asking the wise man for his opinion. The wise man with a knowing look in his eyes shook his head and said, "I'm sure I know who your labourer is, it can be none other than the devil."

The farmer was shocked, he hadn't anticipated that response. He immediately asked the wise man how he could rid himself of this stranger who indeed might be the devil himself. The wise man responded, "What you need to do is give him a task that he cannot do, it doesn't matter what it is. The Devil is proud and won't be beaten by any task. he will soon pack his bags and go."

Over the next few weeks the farmer kept coming up with unusual and difficult tasks for John to do but each time he did so John completed them with ease and perfection. The farmer had asked John to count the number of grains of corn threshed from a whole stack, fill a barrel with water using a sieve and mow a field which he had spiked with iron railings. It would seem that no task was too difficult. In desperation to rid himself of John the farmer told his story to a passing gypsy woman. After much thought she responded, "Take one of your wife's curly hairs from her head and tell him to hammer it straight on the blacksmith's anvil."

The farmer did as the gypsy had said and set John about the task. Hours and hours of furious hammering passed and then came a deafening silence. Not sure what he was going to find the farmer made his way into the blacksmith's shed to find it empty with the curly hair still on the anvil. He ran outside to see where John had gone and there in the distance he could be seen leaving the village. A relief swept over the farmer, it had worked. The farmer's soul was saved but it didn't stop him wondering who the next poor victim might be.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore

These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

02/08/2024

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

It's true that we are a nation of animal lovers. Some people prefer dogs, a usually predictable companion, others love cats. Now cats are aloof and independent, they often don't need the same level of fuss or affection that a dog does. They disappear to places unknown to us and we don't always know what they're thinking. This week's tale perhaps gives us an insight into their mysterious world.

Our story takes us near to the Whitney on Wye area of Herefordshire, where during the year gentlemen from London would come and visit for a couple of weeks to enjoy some salmon fishing. The locals welcomed them with open arms, for a cottager it was a wonderful form of extra income. There were two gentlemen from London who were regular visitors to the area and who would always stay with a widow in her cottage. The cottage was in a pretty, remote spot and not far from the River Wye where they loved to fish. The widow not only enjoyed their money but also their company as she lived alone except for her big old cat, who was getting on in years. From his appearance it was clear he had seen a lot of life. He had lost an eye and his ears were full of scars from his many battles with other cats and wild animals nearby.

The two gentlemen were enjoying their stay as they always did, the fishing was great and the scenery magnificent. However midweek the older man complained of a chill and decided to stay by the fire reading his book, with the old cat dozing on his lap whilst his younger friend went off to fish by himself. As the light began to fade the older man became concerned for his friend, it was not like him to be out this late. As he paced the floor wondering what he should do his friend burst through the door of the cottage looking tired and confused. As they ate supper together the younger man was unusually quiet. It was only when the widow had gone to bed and the two men retired with a whiskey in front of the fire, that he finally began to speak about why he was so late returning. The cat looking for a comfortable spot jumped back on the older man's lap seemingly wanting to hear all about it too.

The younger man reported having been at their favourite fishing spot when a thick fog descended upon him. In attempt to find his way back to the cottage he got lost in the woods. Spotting a light way in the distance thinking that it must be the cottage he headed in that direction, only for the fog to get thicker and for the light to disappear. In a bit of a panic he decided to climb a mighty oak tree to see if he could locate the light again, which he did. But then something caught his eye as he gazed down into the hollow of the tree. To his amazement there appeared to be a funeral taking place, a coffin surrounded by torches and he could hear singing in the wind. As he looked closer his heart leapt and he couldn't quite believe what he was witnessing. The coffin which was adorned with a crown and sceptre and the torches were all being carried by cats. Both men were silent at this point, gazing into the fire, it was quite a tall tale to take in. As the younger man had been speaking the old cat had been gazing at him intently, no longer dozing on the older man's lap. As soon as the man had finished telling his story the cat leapt onto the floor and shouted "Old Peter is dead. I am King of the Cats!" And with that he bolted up the chimney leaving the two men sitting in shock and disbelief, the soot filling the air.

The next morning they awoke to the widow calling out for the cat as he had not returned from his nightly adventures as he normally did. Neither man said a word as they fished that day, both seemed deep in thought mulling over the weird events of the last 24 hours. When they returned for supper that evening, the widow was still calling out for the cat. They could see that she missed his companionship deeply. The men still shook up by events decided to return home early but not before they purchased a new young tom cat for the widow. For they knew what she did not. Her old friend would never be returning, for he was now King of the Cats.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore

26/07/2024

**FOLKLORE FRIDAY**

Our story this week is all about a kindly widow who created something rather special for the poor despite the wishes and actions of her greedy relatives. Hester Clarke lived in Leominster, she was a quiet woman with a kind heart. Her late husband had been a wool merchant and had prospered leaving Hester a small fortune, a large house and lots of loving memories. There were no children to console and care for her but she did have cousins and nephews. They appeared on the surface to be fond of her but some say they were more fond of her fortune. For one day they hoped to inherit all that Hester owned.

Hester was very interested in the plight of the poor of Leominster. When she visited the town it made her sad to see men and women in rags begging in the street in order to feed their families. Whenever she went out she always kept some coins in her purse which she gladly gave to those who needed it. Her family on the other hand regarded the poor with contempt and distain. At Christmas time they were all for turning away callers to the house like the mummers but Hester would always invite them in, give them a generous donation and some food to warm their bellies.

Hester missed her wonderful husband especially a Christmas time. The house felt so empty so she would take a wander into town to busy herself. It was also a chance for her to catch up with her neighbours and the news. On her way back from one of these trips she spotted a commotion just outside her home. A woman had collapsed in the street and a crowd was now gathering around her trying to assist. As Hester looked upon the woman she could see that she was malnourished and cold so she suggested that she was brought into her house to get warm. The poor woman appeared embarrassed and tried to leave but Hester insisted that she remain with her until she was sufficiently warm and fed. Hester was all for sending for the woman's family but to her horror found that she had none and that the woman was living on the streets. Hester wondered how she was going to survive such a cold winter and shuddered at the thought. But before the woman stepped back into the cold of the night Hester placed a golden guinea in her hand. As Hester waved her goodbye she had an idea, one that would change the woman's life forever.

The next morning Hester set off on her mission. Her head full of ideas and her heart filled with excitement. An appointment was made with her solicitor who after lengthy discussions confirmed that Hester was wealthy enough to acquire some land that was for sale at Bargates. Not only that but she could afford to build four almshouses on the site. Her plan was to make the houses available for poor widows in the community. Plus she would set aside enough funds each year for their care. Happy and feeling ready for the challenge she set about realising her plan.

But as in any community people started to talk and before long her plans were divulged by her solicitor to her family. One nephew in particular accused her of going mad and squandering his inheritance such was his anger. When he realised that she would not be swayed from her plan he set about her downfall. He was going to ensure that she was declared of unsound mind and would no longer have control over her property. The property would be deemed his.

Hester's solicitor informed her of her nephew's intentions and if anything it made Hester even more determined to complete what she had started. It was clear from the conversation that Hester's nephew had already claimed her home but the almshouses were out of his reach and legally he could not take ownership of these. So all was not lost. The almshouses were almost ready for occupation but there was one last task that Hester had for the carpenter.

The next day Hester went looking for the woman who had collapsed in the street and after walking some of the poorest areas of the town she found her. Hester told her about the almshouses and invited her to stay in one of them along with two other widows in similar circumstances.

The opening of the almshouses was a big affair and a sizeable crowd gathered outside. The widows were presented with their keys but before they could take occupancy Hester unveiled her finishing touch. Above the main door the carpenter had carved the figure of a man. In his hand he carried an axe and below him were the words, "He that gives away all before he is dead, Let 'em take this hatchett and knock him on the head."

Hester then took the key to the fourth house and entered her new home, safe from her nephew's meddling.

Despite her family's dreadful actions of stealing her wealth and home, Hester had never felt richer. In the almshouses she was surrounded by genuine friendship and love. No longer did she feel alone and there she lived until she died.

The almshouses look the same today as when Hester first moved in and the carved figure remains above the front door for all to see centuries later. We're glad that there was a happy ending for Hester. As the saying goes you can't choose your family but you can choose your friends.

There are more great tales and stories over on our dedicated Herefordshire History and Folklore page, why not take a look:

www.eatsleepliveherefordshire.co.uk/information/history-and-folklore

These stories are curated from many sources where accuracy cannot be guaranteed and retold in our fun ESL style, in the true spirit of Folklore magic.

Barn Meadow View

06/09/2024

30/08/2024

23/08/2024

16/08/2024

09/08/2024

02/08/2024

26/07/2024

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