Sunday, June 08, 2003

 

Visits to Mealsgate, Bromfield and surrounding area 09-10 June 2003

This is a description of where we went and what I found during our visit to West Cumberland. There is much to write and so I am taking time out, a breather from the regular daily journal to write of what I saw and what we did and also include a little history of our West Cumberland families. Later I will use these pieces to write an expanded history of our West Cumberland families, as I know it.

The piece is long, equivalent to about 6 A4 sheets. I have therefore broken it up into number of sections.

Area Map Here


Mealsgate

Close up Map Here

The first place we visited was Allhallows Church, a significant place to me.

I was christened here at Allhallows Church; both my Irving grandparents are buried here, too. When this relatively modern Church of the late 1800s was built to replace the nearby very old Church some of the red sandstone building blocks were supplied from the nearby Crookdake quarries owned by my Brough great-grandfather Pattinson Brough. One of his sons Joseph was my grandfather, he was a stone mason before he became a farmer farming at Crookdake.

We were fortunate enough when visiting the Church to meet Les Raven the Vicar's Warden who told us some of this information. Les’s family had been tied to this area for many generations.

When I was a teen-ager I attended the funeral of my grandmother Irving and I vaguely remembered where she was buried in the churchyard and I walked around to the side of the Church half way along and almost immediately found the gravestone. There too was my grandfather Irving's name on the gravestone who outlived his wife by a good number of years. I stood for quite a while remembering my grandmother, a large cheerful lady always laughing who haled from Nicholforest well north of Carlisle and Longtown on the border of Scotland.

I thought of my grandfather Irving, a not very tall man with one twinkling eye, he had lost the other in a mining accident. I remembered the resemblance of my father to my grandfather. I looked like my father too and so does Ian. The strong resemblance goes through 4 generations. I took photos of the Irving gravestone and also some of the Brough gravestones in the churchyard. These Brough's would be from our Brough's extended family.

Whilst looking round Mealsgate we went along the A595 road in a southwesterly direction for a mile or so. Here was the West Lodge, one of 2 gateways to Whitehall Estate, my father had been employed at Whitehall and we had lived in the Lodge. I recognized the Lodge immediately with its special pointed window. I had last seen the Lodge when I was 3 years old. Talking to the residents of the West Lodge I could not elicit much information from them, they had only lived there for 6 weeks. They did point us in the direction of East Lodge the other entrance to Whitehall, the residents there had been in residence there for 11 years. We did not take photos the evening light was poor.

The following day we returned to take photos of West Lodge when the light was better and close up shots of the pointed window ( more of that later).

In the afternoon we visited East Lodge for photos and hopefully to meet the residents. We arrived at the right time and were invited in for afternoon tea by Richard and Elizabeth after I had explained who I was and what I wanted. We stayed an hour. I enquired of Hole House, the place that I was born and so were John and my cousin David who said he had been born there too. In those days it was usual to be born at home and not in a maternity hospital. John and Elizabeth told us Hole House was also on the White Hall Estate just over the rise of a field as we looked out of the window. Unfortunately the house had been in an advanced state of decay and was demolished recently. So I had to do without of any photos of the place of my birth. I took a few photos of East Lodge for the record even though it did not have much significance for me. Richard and Elizabeth had expanded East Lodge from its original design when they retired from the Newcastle area 11 years ago.


The Pointed Window of West Lodge

A strange title but it is again of significance to me. I remember it well.

If you think first of a bay window, it bowed out in a circular fashion. Standing in the window bowed portion you can see forward and also to the sides. This pointed window instead of being circularly bowed out was like a triangle and being 2 windows, one looking in the left direction and one looking in the right direction. The reason for this window was to be able to stand in the triangular space and look left passed the end of the Lodge and down the drive to Whitehall mansion.

Mr. Moore the owner of Whitehall would tell the staff what time he would be leaving on business and a message would be delivered by hand to the Lodge. Before the appointed time someone would stand in the pointed window and watch down the drive and the moment when Mr. Moore’s vehicle was spotted that person would rush outside and open the big wooden gate for the vehicle to sail through without a pause. The gates were kept closed at all times. The gates have gone now but the large stone gateposts are still there and the holes for the gate iron fittings.

As I stood observing the special window I remembered the ice-cream man on his specially equipped bicycle biking up to the window, my mother opening the window and buying a cornet of ice-cream from him. Then he would pedal away up the road.


Watch Hill

Map Here

Leaving Allhallows Church and continuing up the road I could see a kilometre away the hamlet of Watch Hill and on the rising ground East House the home of my grandfather Brough after he retired from the farm. East House was an odd shaped house built of red sandstone. By strange coincidence this house was built by my grandfather when he was a stonemason working in the family business then owned by my great grandfather, Pattinson Brough. The stone would also come from the Brough Crookdake quarries.

I wanted to photograph of East House and thought it prudent to ask permission of the owner, as I wanted to photo the place from different angles. The owner, a lady was on the phone and when she came to the door I explained what I wanted and who I was. She quickly put her caller on hold; it was her daughter on a toll call. She said “yes” I was welcome to photograph the house and would I like to come back tomorrow for tea, she would love to talk over the house history. I only had a day and a half and I politely declined, I felt a little mean, but I would probably never see this area again and I had to be firm, I had a lot of ground to cover..

I also photographed the house below, a bungalow. This had been my Aunt Lizzie's home, my half aunt really by my grandfather Brough's second wife. Lizzie had passed away the year previous to our UK trip. The bungalow was built on land originally belonging East House when Lizzie married later in life.

Just a short distance up the hill from East House is Rose Cottage, which was the home of my Grandfather Irving: my father was born here. Rose Cottage was the lower one of 3 terraced cottages facing the road and it had its own drive in to the rear adjoining land. Grandfather Irving owned all 3 cottages and rented out the other two. He would probably have purchased the block of 3 when he inherited half of his father's farm; Dixon Irving, my great grandfather. I wondered if my grandfather resembled his father Dixon Irving. I took more photographs here too.

We then move on to the hamlet of Crookdake another kilometre or so and stopped for a moment outside Intack house and what was once my grandfather Brough's farm before his retirement to East House in Watch hill.

Crookdake was earmarked for tomorrow so we didn't stay here, we were going down to Bromfield, 6 kilometres away... 3 miles to look over the lay of the land.


Blennerhasset

Although we lived in this place for only a short time I wanted to visit the place. Again memories drew me to it. Blennerhasset was only a short drive from Mealsgate so we made a flying visit.

When I was about 4 years old by my calculations Whitehall was sold and we had to move and my father find new employment.

We moved temporarily into a rented 2 up, 2 down terraced house in Blennerhasset. Again I had not problem recognising the village with its traditional village green, school and river, the River Ellen, a small river. I soon by a process of elimination worked out which of the terraces was “our” and then which house we had lived in. I again did the same to were my Dad had built the famous “Green Hut” at woodwork classes, at least to us it was famous. Over the years wherever we moved to collapsible green hut went too.

The river wharf I soon found now buried in long grass and bushes long since used. I took sadly, a poor photo of the school I sneaked into at 4 years old and the primer teacher couldn’t understand why she had an extra pupil. Did we all look the same?

We only stayed barely an hour. Funny just down the road a short way was Aspatria; I had cousins living here on my Irving side. But time was precious unfortunately.



Bromfield

Map Here for all areas

Our Brough family had lived at Bromfield since the late 1700s. Prior to that they had lived going back into the mists of time only 5 kilometres away as the crow flies in the vicinity of Abbeytown and was somewhat further by road. Records of the Brough's here peter out prior to the 1600s.

Just before entering Bromfield village I saw a large house and as my mind raced I recognised it as Uncle Joe Brough's house, which he bought when he married at the late age of 48-50. It was a magnificent large house in white standing proudly in its own grounds on a slight rise. I last saw it as a small boy whilst staying there. I may have been 7. I immediately stopped and took a photo in the fading evening light. I would have liked to go closer but I didn't. It was a wise decision, talking to Harry (mentioned shortly) next day he told me the gate entrance was guarded by an alarm system and usually switched on around 6 p.m.

Arriving in Bromfield, really not much more than a hamlet we parked by the Greyhound Hotel, small, very old and drab and closed this Sunday afternoon. Looking around there was not a soul in sight. Not a very good start or impression of Bromfield. I noticed an open side door and stuck my head round the door and could hear activity, I went in further and met the surprised landlord doing his chores. Enquires soon elicited that the man to see who was full of knowledge of the area was Harry Douglas, retired headmaster of the closed primary school. " That is if he takes to you, he doesn't take to everyone,” said the dour publican and he pointed out Harry's house.

Going down the road I knocked on Harry's door, the door opened and a stocky man said "Yes?" and I explained who I was and I was the nephew of Joe Brough, my mother's brother who live in the village until he passed away. We talked for a little while, Harry keeping me at arms length so to speak. Abruptly he said " come back tomorrow morning at 10.30 and I'll show you around". We did and a finer man we could not have met. Harry couldn’t do enough for us and was a wealth of knowledge.

The following morning when we returning, Harry true to his word told us all he knew of the history of Bromfield and the ancient St. Mungo's, Bromfield Parish Church. He had looked up the church records of my uncle's Joe Brough and Tommy but they weren’t listed. Harry said they would have been cremated. Harry also set up a meeting with a farmer surnamed Mashiter a friend of Joe Brough to glean further information.

Whilst Pat looked round the Church I spent my time in the churchyard and following some long remembered instructions went round to the far stone wall at the rear of the church looking for my Brough grandparents grave and to my surprise quickly found the gravestone. The stone was large, white and the lettering crystal clear, it had weathered well. It was first erected in the early 1900s on the death of my grandmother Isabella Brough at the age of 34 leaving my grandfather Joseph Brough a young family to cope with. Working as a stonemason and builder in his father's business he employed a housekeeper, a widow with a small child to look after his young family of 5. My mother would be about 5 years old at the time with 2 elder brothers and a younger sister and brother. They all lived on the outskirts of Bromfield village in a large house given to them by Pattinson Brough my grandfather's father (my great-grandfather).

Reading the gravestone also buried in the plot were my grandfather Brough when his day came and his second wife Mary Elizabeth Sails who had been the housekeeper. Grandfather Brough had married Mary Elizabeth Sails 3 years after the death of his first wife Isabella Hoodless. So the family had a mother once more.

I then looked round the churchyard at all the gravestones I could read and any with Brough mentioned I photographed. I had expected many more gravestones for all the generations of Brough's for almost 300 years. They were not there. Harry told me many of the gravestones had fallen down or had broken and in the early days had been carted away and used as rubble and in some cases road making. I was a little horrified. For many years now Harry told me, fallen stones and ones leaning over had been removed and erected alongside the churchyard wall on all 4 sides to preserve them. This accounted for the large expanses of mown grass to be seen throughout the graveyard.

I kept going back to my grandparents’ gravestone as I moved round the churchyard looking for names. I kept thinking of them. I thought of the hard times they endured in the days of the early 1900s. There were no antibiotic drugs; diseases we regard today as relatively minor were major killers before the advent of modern drugs. Was this why my grandmother died at 34 or was it something else? There was no government assistance of any kind unless you were destitute and then it was removal to the Workhouse. The Brough's were luckier than most. They were by the standards of the day of middle class standing and were able to shoulder the financial burden of loosing a wife and mother. But it must have been devastating to those who were then children ages ranging from 10 down to 2 years. I never knew that my maternal grandmother had died at a young age until recent years. I always thought that Mary Elizabeth Hoodless grandfather’s 2nd wife was my grandmother. It was never talked about when I was a child. I remember my mother speaking vaguely of hard times when she was a child but nothing specific.

There was a silver lining as far as gaining a housekeeper, 3 years later to become a wife and stepmother. I remembered my step grandmother when I was a child and later as a teenager as a quiet person, always pleased to see us. I remembered as I stood in the churchyard by the gravestone when my step grandmother was close to passing away, my mother went to stay with her. She was frightened of impending death and each night my mother would sleep in the same bed as her stepmother, hold her and comfort her all night long. She must have been a fine stepmother to those Brough children for my mother to do this. These then were the children later to become my aunts and uncles and one to become my mother in later years.

I must have stayed in the churchyard a long time. Pat had gone long ago gone back to the car. She later told me as the day progressed into the early afternoon the hot sun was too much for her. The car was parked next to the hotel and an elder member of the publican's family; probably the publican’s father was repairing the hotel wall. He kindly suggested that Pat step into the cool empty bar and takes a seat for which Pat was grateful to do until I returned.

We then retraced our journey back towards Mealsgate and stopped off at Crookdake to take photographs. I went round to the backdoor of Intack House Farm to seek permission to look around. No one was home so I strolled around the farmyard and took a series of photos, about 15 photos I suppose. I took pictures of the house and buildings, even the built in dove cote built into one of the farm buildings. Where the duck pond and the midden once were.

Pattinson Brough and his sons including my grandfather had built Intack Farm after a normal days work in their building business, every stone of it. First my great-grandfather Pattinson Brough lived at Intack House Farm and then my grandfather Joseph Brough inherited it and ran the farm. On his retirement Joseph's youngest son Tommy Brough, my uncle Tommy bought and ran the farm until his death.

When I checked the photos on the laptop later in the early evening I found that I had only 2 photos. I had been using Ian's digital camera and again I had forgot to remove the lens cap. All the photos but 2 were blank shots; the 2 that I did get were of the front of Intack House, afterthought shots taken from the road.

Yes, I was upset at the time but I could have quickly returned to take more but I didn't, I was tired and weary after such a long day.

posted by OldEric 5:02 pm

Comments:

Hi Old Eric, I read with interest your account of a visit to Mealsgate and surrounds in 2003 and about your ancestral links with this area. I developed an interest in George Moore and, in particular, The George Moore Memorial Hall some time ago. I am interested in acquiring scans of any old photographs relating to the Hall, (especially the interior as it was when in use as a Club), Mealsgate, Whitehall and George Moore. I am building a website to incorporate information about Mealsgate and related stuff of interest www.mealsgate.tk Do you by any chance have any old photographs that might interest me? Thanks Colin.

# posted by  Anonymous : 6:04 am

 

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