“COYOTE IS AFTER WODDY, DO SOMETHING.”. June 31 2919



Begin forwarded message:


From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
Subject: Coyote wall. June 31 2919
Date: June 29, 2019 at 3:53:22 PM EDT


“COYOTE IS AFTER WOODY, DO SOMETHING!!”

alan skeoch
June 2019

“Alan, the coyote was back last night at dusk…I think he wants to get Woody”
“Forget about it…Woody is too big and does  not wander.”
“Sure, sure…don’t you remember the slash on his bum from a coyote Woody thought was friendly.”
“Scared hell out of him…came running up to me and leaned  against my leg.”
“Well, surely that would teach you that coyotes are dangerous.”
“Damn beautiful animals as long as  the mange doesn’t get them.”
“Alan, we have a pack of coyotes  living in the bush back of our house…that is scary.”
“Live and let live, Marjorie.”
“Do you want Woody killed?”
“Never happen, our dog run is fenced.”
“Not any more…coyote has been digging under the chain link.”
“Imagination.”
“Sometimes  Alan I find you irritating…maddening…far too laid back.”
“Show me the hole.”



So that little incident started our Canada Day week end.  Fence repairs to keep the coyotes out.
I am not proud.  I admit that the repairs were done by the female crew living with us.  They had
seen the coyotes and  Woody nose to nose with wire mesh in between.  I had not seen this contact
so I was  a little less enthused about fence repairs.




Women are better at this kind of thing anyway.  Moving cement blocks from place

to place to frustrate the coyote.  They were good at the job.



“While you are doing repairs, I am going coyote hunting.”

“Alan, come back here.”

“Just hunting with my camera.”



Our house lot is long and wild…50 get by 400 feet.  Part of the ancient Mississauga

First Nations territory.  Last part they held.   So it is nice and verdant…wild.




Works was progressing well


About half way down our lot, we had built a fence to keep our  dogs from irritating

neighbours.  We have had lots of dogs…Shadow, Sunny, Molly, etc, etc…and now
Woody who is about as laid back as his owner except when the coyote comes calling
at dusk every night.  Then Woody barks.  Very brave barking since he is protected
by the chain link fence.
“Alan … the fence has been compromised,,,where are you going?”
“See if I can  get a picture of the coyotes family…back in the bush.”



And so I used the camouflage of greenery to escape the fence building…just like

the coyote…I was hidden.




At the back of the lot we keep this old dump rake as a reminder of the days long

ago when this was a hay field.













I know the coyotes were watching me but I could not see them…lots of places 

to hide and slink about.







“Alan, you did  nothing to hep the girls…nothing.  As  usual.”

“I was on point…the point man in the defence of our fort…doing recon”






“The least you could is fix the gate…handle not working…enough of a gap for

coyote to get through if we are not careful.”

“Get Gabriela on that…she is  right handed.”
“I wish you would stop using that left handed  excuse.”
“That excuse has worked for 80 years so I have not intention of
giving up a good thing.”






“OK wise guy…we are going to lock you out there with the coyotes…right now.”




“So here I am … inspecting fence repairs from the outside.”

“Quite amazing work…lifting cement blocks…placing them…now let me back in!”




  “

Somewhere behind you Alan, a coyotes is salivating…slobbering…anticipating a good meal.”


alan skeoch
June 2019


Sent from my iPhone


“What lovely trees?”…”THERE IS A PRICE TO PAY!”



Begin forwarded message:


From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
Subject: Trees cut power June 2019
Date: June 25, 2019 at 3:19:33 PM EDT



“WHAT LOVELY TREES!” … “THERE IS  A PRICE TO PAY.”

alan sketch
June 2019

“WHAM!   SSSST>>>SSSST”
“What was that…something through the trees…shower of sparks…then silence”

I was  just sitting on the pave stone front porch reading The Bishop’s Boy by Lindon Macintyre when
the BAM and SSSSST happened.   We live in  a  forest…southern Mississauga where once the native
peoples lived.   A big green space so  obvious from the air.  Huge trees that overhand and hide the houses.
Trees that suck in the carbon and push out put oxygen.  A kind of Shangri-La.  Were it not for the astronomic
taxes.   There is  a  price to pay for green space.



“Power is gone…tree fell across  the power lines…must be hanging there after severing

the main line.  Hung up.  Dead birch.  Big one and others  ready to fall.”

Neighbours began to assemble…comments  both comforting and angry.  Some
knew  the cost of keeping all these trees.  When we bought our lot there were 114
trees and shrubs…counted them to justify the mortgage.  House cost $28,000.  Did not think about the cost
should one tree die.  Now, after half a century living here, we know that cost.  Cutting 
down a dead tree costs $1,000 and upwards.  Green space costs money.  Some neighbours
know that.  Some fear that.  Some curse that and try to surreptitiously cut down trees.
Most of  us love the trees …  consider the costs just part of doing business.

Climate change!  Yow…will it affect our trees?  That mean our oxygen.  Not only losing

insects, little creatures, fish and bumblebees but also could we lose our trees as the

planet heats up.  Got to do something but what?  Try to save the trees, I guess is
a small step.  “But the trees  give shelter to that pack of coyotes…they slip around
looking for cats and little dogs…are the coyotes part of the ecology of our neighbourhood?
If the trees  go, then so go lots of things…maybe even ourselves.”



“Call 911…must be a live power line in the branches…dangerous…lethal.”

“Get a police car here.”
“the 911operator made me wait nearly 10 minutes…so many panic calls for all
kinds of  reasons.   Wonder how high up the crisis ladder is  a dead tree?”




“Then the big emergency trucks began assemble.  Huge dinosaurs of the 21s century.













Neighbours  and dogs admired  and commiserated…”The owners of the dead

birch doesn’t even know what has a happened.  Too dangerous to go down their
lane.  Are they well? Some think not.”










“Men no longer climb threes…they have long articulated buckets that reach higher

than any tree…huge things.



“Hubert, how much does one of those trucks cost?”

“Between 250,000 and 500,000 dollars.”

“Hydro rates  are high…going higher and  higher with each truck.”
“Why do  we need  two trucks? “
“Something could go wrong I guess.”






“No power for blocks and blocks…”

“Interferes with the BlueJay game…can you get it fixed fast?”
“It will take six hours or more.”










Reminds  me of two praying mantis creatures sparring for food.

“Somewhat larger though.”
















Then the next day new trucks arrived…tree specials.

“How much is that truck worth?”

“$180,000”
“Trees cost big money when they die…going higher and higher.”
“Is it necessary to slice up all those healthy trees…like that beautiful oak
that is only aquaria century old.”
“It will grow back…got to clear the power lines….Trees  on city land do not need
permission to slice up.”

“What about my oxygen supply?”
“Oxygen?  Are you daft?”






Then something odd  happened.  One whole house came down the street

on a huge flatbed truck.   A whole house…about 70 feet long…wood from

someone’s  forest has been butchered.  Now dead.

“Ripping down a house on the next street…chomping it up with an excavator…
then building a new house.  Happends all the time around here.  Makes no
sense.









Cowboys riding high…”Yippee Yay Ay, Yi Ay”











“Do  not worry, the trees will grow back…I guarantee you that.”

“Hope you are right.  Reminds me of something I read long ago and
would earnestly like to believe.  ‘WE CAN BUT HOPE THAT SOMEHOW GOOD WILL
BE THE FINAL GOAL OF ILL.”







Sent from my iPhone


Fwd: BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890: LAKE WINDERMERE, ENGLAND JUNE 2019



Begin forwarded message:


From: SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
Subject: Fwd: BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890: LAKE WINDERMERE, ENGLAND JUNE 2019
Date: June 15, 2019 at 7:04:22 PM EDT
To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>




Begin forwarded message:


From: SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
Subject: Fwd: BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890: LAKE WINDERMERE, ENGLAND JUNE 2019
Date: June 15, 2019 at 6:57:11 PM EDT
To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>



NOTE…I AM  RESENDING THIS  STORY BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE GOT PICS UPSIDE DOWN

Begin forwarded message:


From: SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
Subject: BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890: LAKE WINDERMERE, ENGLAND JUNE 2019
Date: June 14, 2019 at 9:11:01 PM EDT
To: Marjorie Skeoch <marjorieskeoch@gmail.com>




BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890


alan skeoch
June 2019

“Marjorie, what is a BOBBIN?”
“A bobbin is a spool”
“What’s that?”
“A spool,,,bobbin if you will…is used to hold thread or yarn.”
“Why would anyone want a bobbin full of wool?”
“Bobbins feed threads to the machines that make cloth…big bobbins do that.
“Small bobbins feed thread to machines that sew cloth…hold  pieces of cloth together.”
“Suppose there were no bobbins, then what?”
“Then we would be walking around naked or covered with the hairy skins of animals.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Not really meaning to … just exaggerating a bit..”

I bet some readers do not even know what a BOBBIN is!  I bet there are even some readers
who do  not care a  whit about BOBBINS. Too Bad.  Why?  Because those readers will miss
out on what to us was a wonderful surprise…and experience almost beyond words.




“I just love these English country roads…narrow and twisty with a new and sometimes startling
thing to see at every twist and turn.”
“Fine for you, Alan, you have the front seat.”
“As things should be.”
“Why?”
“I am the senior person on this excursion….have a little respect.”
“Too bad about the rain, Alan.”
“Not so bad…”
“Why?”
“Rain and fog lend  an air of mystery to the road…”
‘Like a  time machine”
“Yeah…better idea…like driving into the past…time travelling….good  idea.”






“Things pop out at us….and then they are gone.”
“Click…click…click.”







“Descending from Kirkston Pass to Lake Windermeere now”
“Rhododendrons along the road now.”


“Jam on the brakes, Gabriela…something unusual over there on the left.”
“Barn…stone barn?”
“More than that…something weird…really old…strange.”
“A barn full of tent poles…why save long poles…piles of them.”
“Do a quick turn into the driveway…careful…”





“Turn now.”
“A factory…in a rural setting…”
“Sign  says STOTT PARK BOBBIN MILL…open to the public”


“Wonder why there are pipes and  piles of sticks and  poles all over the place.?”



“Let’s cut to the quick before we go any farther…this place made bobbins…all kinds of them…
millions of them.  The big textile mills  in Lancashire needed millions of bobbins.  At one time
in the 19th century there were 300 factories like this making bobbins by the millions.  The
Stott Park Bobbin Mill is the only one left.”
“What happened to all the others?”
“Plastics…$%^%& plastic bobbins drove all mills like this  to the wall.:
:How come this mill survived?”
“Just saved in nick of time by English Heritage people…it had closed in 1979 and  was
about to enter the scrap yard when one man  alerted  the government people about
the mill…THIS PLACE IS WORTH SAVING?”
“Why worth saving?”
“Because this mill had  never been modernized…no electruc machines.   All the lathes
ran from one gigantic  line shaft powered by an ancient steam  engine.  In the early years
the factory was powered by a water wheel but became ‘modernized’ with a steam engine.”




“Pardon me, do you sell any of these bobbins?”
“Sure do…visit the gift shop.”
(Marjorie bought a suitcase full of bobbins.”
“Best sale  we’ve had this year.” said the gift shop lady.



“I was more intrigued  by the tour guide.”
“Why?”
“Couple of reasons.  She was an excellent guide.  Here she hold one of the sticks that I mentioned earlier were strewn around the outside of the factory.
These sticks would be cut into short pieces and then shaved into rough bobbins.”

“She did not like me.  At least, I felt she did not like me…for a couple of good reasons.”
“That’s because you are precocious, Alan…bold and self-obsessed…just too enthusiastic  at times.”
“Guilty as  charged.”

“She really knew the factory…every machine….every bobbin…she even knew
how the flyable governor on the steam engine maintained speed of the hug drive wheel
that powered the whole place.





“What is missing in all these pictures?”  Think about it.  There is something missing that led to
the early death of many Bobbin factory workers.  What is it?  Answer at end but
you can figure it out.  Many died of consumption and the lung diseases. What caused
these deaths?  What is missing from the pictures?






“Normally, back  in he 19rh century, this floor was covered as much as waste deep in Bobbin shavings…so
much so that sometimes  the machines had to be shut down to clear the shavings. “
“Wasn’t there a danger of fire?”
“Definitely…anything that gave off sparks had to be removed…such as the tool grinders.”
“Any use for all those shavings?”
“The shavings and waste wood chunks were used to fire up the steam engine.  “
“So everything made sense…even the scrap.”








High up above the lathes … the mighty line shaft with a drive pulley for each lathe.   

“Aren’t those drive belts dangerous…could  kill.”
“Yes, they are shielded by wood cribbing close to the lathes…and there is a severe to slide the belt on to an idling pulley.”
“My dad worked in factory like this.  He told me about a fellow worker who decided to push the drive belt towards the idling pulley by hand.”
“Dangerous.”
“You bet.  the poor guy got his hand caught and his body was thrown around and around until he was dead.  I had an image from that
story that I cannot forget.  The fellows limbs came apart.   Nothing could be done.  Other workers  ran down the factory to shut down
the drive engine but by then all was mayhem.  Did that happen here?”
“Yes, there were injuries…many…a lot of the workers were children.”
“Any accidents recorded?”
“In 1860, at Crooklands Bobbin mill,Thomas Fox, aged14, got caught in a drive belt by his head  and shoulders…carried to the ceiling line shaft
where his head was crushed…supposed to have died instantly.”
“So my dad’s story was  likely accurate?”



“You said children.”
“Child labour laws were non existent for decades and when they did come into affect they only applied to children under ten.”
“Why would parents let their kids near these machines?”
“Poverty…and some children had  no parents…”
“No parents?”
“Liverpool is not far away from here.  Orphanages collected street children…a lot of them were sent here…some stayed…some 
ran away.  Others were always available.”
“Did any get hurt that you know about.”
“There is a  record of one boy working here with his hand bound up because the hole filling lathe pierced  his hand…like taking
an electric drill through your hand.”
“Long hours…doing repetitive tasks like boring holes in bobbins…pushed hard by overseers….fatigue spells trouble.”
“And  this is a remote rural factory…surrounded by wilderness.  One boy, Kit Cloudsdale, 13 years old, was sent on a five 
mile errand.   He froze to death.”

“Where do these stairs go?”
“Tool grinding room…lots of sparks…”


“The line shaft powered the large grindstone but a thick stone
wall  separated the grinding room from the factory floor. Fires in
19th century factories were common.   Imagine someone stupid
enough to light pipe on the factory floor?  There must have been rules here.


“There are holes in the stone interior walls to let the drive belts through.  This hole
has no purpose other than a site line…perhaps so the overseer could be sure
the tool grinding was  being done right.


Polished bobbins were shipped in sacks to the cotton mills  in Lancashire and to textile mills elsewhere in the world.
Not just in the thousands but in the millions.  Weighed on this scale.



“Hey look here…do not look away…do not day dream…do not look over at your friend on the next machine.”
“Why not?”
“Look at that drive belt…now imagine your hand or our hair getting caught…instantly maimed or killed.  These factories
were dangerous.”
‘Why work in places like this?”
“No choice really…food and a place to live…many workers at Stott Park spent their entire working life on one of these machines…doing the
same thing thousands  of times  per day…boring, shaping, polishing, grinding, …some felt lucky to have a steady job.



Only pauper boys were allowed to work at the Stott Park Bobbin Mill.   Girls, however, were allowed work in the cotton 
factories as  above.  Note the long lines of bobbins wound with cotton thread.


Pauper children around  1900.




Another young boy at work in a Lancashire cotton mill.  Pilesof bobbins in front and behind him.



Young boy at work in the Stott Parkin Bobbin factory about 1900.   Sometimes the wood  chips got two feet deep.



This is a picture of Marjorie in the Stott Park Bobbin Mill shop buying more Bobbins than they sold  all month.
“Why did she buy them?”
“Movies may use them in some period  motion picture someday…”
“Someday?”
“My thoughts precisely.”

“Look in the top right corner of this picture.”
“What am I looking at?”
“That little platform up near the driveshaft is where the factory foreman could look down on his
workers…make sure they were doing a good job.”



“See that round trim that looks like a whiskey barrel?”
“Looks like a whisky barrel for sure,”
“That is  a whisky barrel made into a polishing drum…dump in 
a pile of bobbins, bounce them around and they come out polished.”
“Do they smell like good scotch whisky?”
“Not sure.”


“Now  here is a mathematics  challenge to you.”
“pick one of these two bobbin pictures ..  count the bobbins…then
multiply times  10…i.e.  100 x 10 equals 1,000 British pounds or $2,000 Canadian dollars.
Fortunately Marjorie did  not see this bobbin pile.   She only bought 7 big bobbins which cost a pretty penn anyway.”
“Is that what they were worth long ago?”
“Nope…a new bobbin sold for a penny or so I think…those were days  when a penny was worth something though.”

Quote from John Gibson,1878, letter to Ulverston Board of Guardians concerning CHILD LABOUR

“WE send them at 12 or 14 for seven years without remuneration…When their time is up they are discharged…and we send
other boys to fill their places  at the mills.  They are in many cases…over-worked, half clothed and fed and  in many ways very
unfairly used.”

Caring for the poor has been a social  problem for a long time.  When England was largely rural poor relief was  provided by parishes…money
collected  to cover food, shelter, food and clothing.  Such relief was  spotty so in 1834 the Poor Law was  amended.  Each parish was expected
to build workhouses where poor families were expected to do  work for their relief.  Families were separated.  Many pauper children became a
problem and  the workhouse guardians tried to find work for these children in local industries  like Stott Park Bobbin Mill.  The only way we know
much  about these children is through the reports  of the Relieving Officers of the workhouses.  Charles  Dickens novel Oliver Twist made many
middle class citizens aware that abuse was  common.



Answer to question:  What is not shown in these pictures is THE DUST THAT FILLED THE AIR and promoted lung diseases that killed
workers as  young as  37.

Conclusion:   It took ten years to rebuild the Stott Park Bobbin Mill.  But credit for the saving of the bobbin mill must go to one man, Jack Ivison who began working 
as the mill in 1927 and was  the mill maser when it closed in 1971.   Jack Ivison then  urged English  Heritage to accept the mill as  an  important part of English industrial history.



Touring the mill in June 2019 made me think of the lyrics to DIRTY OLD TOWN by the Pogues.

POGUES


Dirty Old Town Lyrics


I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed my girl by the factory wall

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

Clouds a drifting across the moon
Cats a prowling on their beat
Spring’s a girl from the streets at night

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I heard a siren from the docks
Saw a train set the night on fire
Smelled the spring on the smoky wind

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I’m going to make me a good sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fire
Will chop you down like an old dead tree

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed my girl by the factory wall

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

Dirty old town
Dirty old town






Fwd: BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890: LAKE WINDERMERE, ENGLAND JUNE 2019


NOTE…I AM  RESENDING THIS  STORY BECAUSE SOME PEOPLE GOT PICS UPSIDE DOWN

Begin forwarded message:


From: SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
Subject: BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890: LAKE WINDERMERE, ENGLAND JUNE 2019
Date: June 14, 2019 at 9:11:01 PM EDT
To: Marjorie Skeoch <marjorieskeoch@gmail.com>




BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890


alan skeoch
June 2019

“Marjorie, what is a BOBBIN?”
“A bobbin is a spool”
“What’s that?”
“A spool,,,bobbin if you will…is used to hold thread or yarn.”
“Why would anyone want a bobbin full of wool?”
“Bobbins feed threads to the machines that make cloth…big bobbins do that.
“Small bobbins feed thread to machines that sew cloth…hold  pieces of cloth together.”
“Suppose there were no bobbins, then what?”
“Then we would be walking around naked or covered with the hairy skins of animals.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Not really meaning to … just exaggerating a bit..”

I bet some readers do not even know what a BOBBIN is!  I bet there are even some readers
who do  not care a  whit about BOBBINS. Too Bad.  Why?  Because those readers will miss
out on what to us was a wonderful surprise…and experience almost beyond words.




“I just love these English country roads…narrow and twisty with a new and sometimes startling
thing to see at every twist and turn.”
“Fine for you, Alan, you have the front seat.”
“As things should be.”
“Why?”
“I am the senior person on this excursion….have a little respect.”
“Too bad about the rain, Alan.”
“Not so bad…”
“Why?”
“Rain and fog lend  an air of mystery to the road…”
‘Like a  time machine”
“Yeah…better idea…like driving into the past…time travelling….good  idea.”






“Things pop out at us….and then they are gone.”
“Click…click…click.”







“Descending from Kirkston Pass to Lake Windermeere now”
“Rhododendrons along the road now.”


“Jam on the brakes, Gabriela…something unusual over there on the left.”
“Barn…stone barn?”
“More than that…something weird…really old…strange.”
“A barn full of tent poles…why save long poles…piles of them.”
“Do a quick turn into the driveway…careful…”





“Turn now.”
“A factory…in a rural setting…”
“Sign  says STOTT PARK BOBBIN MILL…open to the public”


“Wonder why there are pipes and  piles of sticks and  poles all over the place.?”



“Let’s cut to the quick before we go any farther…this place made bobbins…all kinds of them…
millions of them.  The big textile mills  in Lancashire needed millions of bobbins.  At one time
in the 19th century there were 300 factories like this making bobbins by the millions.  The
Stott Park Bobbin Mill is the only one left.”
“What happened to all the others?”
“Plastics…$%^%& plastic bobbins drove all mills like this  to the wall.:
:How come this mill survived?”
“Just saved in nick of time by English Heritage people…it had closed in 1979 and  was
about to enter the scrap yard when one man  alerted  the government people about
the mill…THIS PLACE IS WORTH SAVING?”
“Why worth saving?”
“Because this mill had  never been modernized…no electruc machines.   All the lathes
ran from one gigantic  line shaft powered by an ancient steam  engine.  In the early years
the factory was powered by a water wheel but became ‘modernized’ with a steam engine.”




“Pardon me, do you sell any of these bobbins?”
“Sure do…visit the gift shop.”
(Marjorie bought a suitcase full of bobbins.”
“Best sale  we’ve had this year.” said the gift shop lady.



“I was more intrigued  by the tour guide.”
“Why?”
“Couple of reasons.  She was an excellent guide.  Here she hold one of the sticks that I mentioned earlier were strewn around the outside of the factory.
These sticks would be cut into short pieces and then shaved into rough bobbins.”

“She did not like me.  At least, I felt she did not like me…for a couple of good reasons.”
“That’s because you are precocious, Alan…bold and self-obsessed…just too enthusiastic  at times.”
“Guilty as  charged.”

“She really knew the factory…every machine….every bobbin…she even knew
how the flyable governor on the steam engine maintained speed of the hug drive wheel
that powered the whole place.





“What is missing in all these pictures?”  Think about it.  There is something missing that led to
the early death of many Bobbin factory workers.  What is it?  Answer at end but
you can figure it out.  Many died of consumption and the lung diseases. What caused
these deaths?  What is missing from the pictures?






“Normally, back  in he 19rh century, this floor was covered as much as waste deep in Bobbin shavings…so
much so that sometimes  the machines had to be shut down to clear the shavings. “
“Wasn’t there a danger of fire?”
“Definitely…anything that gave off sparks had to be removed…such as the tool grinders.”
“Any use for all those shavings?”
“The shavings and waste wood chunks were used to fire up the steam engine.  “
“So everything made sense…even the scrap.”








High up above the lathes … the mighty line shaft with a drive pulley for each lathe.   

“Aren’t those drive belts dangerous…could  kill.”
“Yes, they are shielded by wood cribbing close to the lathes…and there is a severe to slide the belt on to an idling pulley.”
“My dad worked in factory like this.  He told me about a fellow worker who decided to push the drive belt towards the idling pulley by hand.”
“Dangerous.”
“You bet.  the poor guy got his hand caught and his body was thrown around and around until he was dead.  I had an image from that
story that I cannot forget.  The fellows limbs came apart.   Nothing could be done.  Other workers  ran down the factory to shut down
the drive engine but by then all was mayhem.  Did that happen here?”
“Yes, there were injuries…many…a lot of the workers were children.”
“Any accidents recorded?”
“In 1860, at Crooklands Bobbin mill,Thomas Fox, aged14, got caught in a drive belt by his head  and shoulders…carried to the ceiling line shaft
where his head was crushed…supposed to have died instantly.”
“So my dad’s story was  likely accurate?”



“You said children.”
“Child labour laws were non existent for decades and when they did come into affect they only applied to children under ten.”
“Why would parents let their kids near these machines?”
“Poverty…and some children had  no parents…”
“No parents?”
“Liverpool is not far away from here.  Orphanages collected street children…a lot of them were sent here…some stayed…some 
ran away.  Others were always available.”
“Did any get hurt that you know about.”
“There is a  record of one boy working here with his hand bound up because the hole filling lathe pierced  his hand…like taking
an electric drill through your hand.”
“Long hours…doing repetitive tasks like boring holes in bobbins…pushed hard by overseers….fatigue spells trouble.”
“And  this is a remote rural factory…surrounded by wilderness.  One boy, Kit Cloudsdale, 13 years old, was sent on a five 
mile errand.   He froze to death.”

“Where do these stairs go?”
“Tool grinding room…lots of sparks…”


“The line shaft powered the large grindstone but a thick stone
wall  separated the grinding room from the factory floor. Fires in
19th century factories were common.   Imagine someone stupid
enough to light pipe on the factory floor?  There must have been rules here.


“There are holes in the stone interior walls to let the drive belts through.  This hole
has no purpose other than a site line…perhaps so the overseer could be sure
the tool grinding was  being done right.


Polished bobbins were shipped in sacks to the cotton mills  in Lancashire and to textile mills elsewhere in the world.
Not just in the thousands but in the millions.  Weighed on this scale.



“Hey look here…do not look away…do not day dream…do not look over at your friend on the next machine.”
“Why not?”
“Look at that drive belt…now imagine your hand or our hair getting caught…instantly maimed or killed.  These factories
were dangerous.”
‘Why work in places like this?”
“No choice really…food and a place to live…many workers at Stott Park spent their entire working life on one of these machines…doing the
same thing thousands  of times  per day…boring, shaping, polishing, grinding, …some felt lucky to have a steady job.



Only pauper boys were allowed to work at the Stott Park Bobbin Mill.   Girls, however, were allowed work in the cotton 
factories as  above.  Note the long lines of bobbins wound with cotton thread.


Pauper children around  1900.




Another young boy at work in a Lancashire cotton mill.  Pilesof bobbins in front and behind him.



Young boy at work in the Stott Parkin Bobbin factory about 1900.   Sometimes the wood  chips got two feet deep.



This is a picture of Marjorie in the Stott Park Bobbin Mill shop buying more Bobbins than they sold  all month.
“Why did she buy them?”
“Movies may use them in some period  motion picture someday…”
“Someday?”
“My thoughts precisely.”

“Look in the top right corner of this picture.”
“What am I looking at?”
“That little platform up near the driveshaft is where the factory foreman could look down on his
workers…make sure they were doing a good job.”



“See that round trim that looks like a whiskey barrel?”
“Looks like a whisky barrel for sure,”
“That is  a whisky barrel made into a polishing drum…dump in 
a pile of bobbins, bounce them around and they come out polished.”
“Do they smell like good scotch whisky?”
“Not sure.”


“Now  here is a mathematics  challenge to you.”
“pick one of these two bobbin pictures ..  count the bobbins…then
multiply times  10…i.e.  100 x 10 equals 1,000 British pounds or $2,000 Canadian dollars.
Fortunately Marjorie did  not see this bobbin pile.   She only bought 7 big bobbins which cost a pretty penn anyway.”
“Is that what they were worth long ago?”
“Nope…a new bobbin sold for a penny or so I think…those were days  when a penny was worth something though.”

Quote from John Gibson,1878, letter to Ulverston Board of Guardians concerning CHILD LABOUR

“WE send them at 12 or 14 for seven years without remuneration…When their time is up they are discharged…and we send
other boys to fill their places  at the mills.  They are in many cases…over-worked, half clothed and fed and  in many ways very
unfairly used.”

Caring for the poor has been a social  problem for a long time.  When England was largely rural poor relief was  provided by parishes…money
collected  to cover food, shelter, food and clothing.  Such relief was  spotty so in 1834 the Poor Law was  amended.  Each parish was expected
to build workhouses where poor families were expected to do  work for their relief.  Families were separated.  Many pauper children became a
problem and  the workhouse guardians tried to find work for these children in local industries  like Stott Park Bobbin Mill.  The only way we know
much  about these children is through the reports  of the Relieving Officers of the workhouses.  Charles  Dickens novel Oliver Twist made many
middle class citizens aware that abuse was  common.



Answer to question:  What is not shown in these pictures is THE DUST THAT FILLED THE AIR and promoted lung diseases that killed
workers as  young as  37.

Conclusion:   It took ten years to rebuild the Stott Park Bobbin Mill.  But credit for the saving of the bobbin mill must go to one man, Jack Ivison who began working 
as the mill in 1927 and was  the mill maser when it closed in 1971.   Jack Ivison then  urged English  Heritage to accept the mill as  an  important part of English industrial history.



Touring the mill in June 2019 made me think of the lyrics to DIRTY OLD TOWN by the Pogues.

POGUES


Dirty Old Town Lyrics


I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed my girl by the factory wall

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

Clouds a drifting across the moon
Cats a prowling on their beat
Spring’s a girl from the streets at night

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I heard a siren from the docks
Saw a train set the night on fire
Smelled the spring on the smoky wind

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I’m going to make me a good sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fire
Will chop you down like an old dead tree

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed my girl by the factory wall

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

Dirty old town
Dirty old town




BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890: LAKE WINDERMERE, ENGLAND JUNE 2019



BOBBIN FACTORY CIRCA 1890


alan skeoch
June 2019

“Marjorie, what is a BOBBIN?”
“A bobbin is a spool”
“What’s that?”
“A spool,,,bobbin if you will…is used to hold thread or yarn.”
“Why would anyone want a bobbin full of wool?”
“Bobbins feed threads to the machines that make cloth…big bobbins do that.
“Small bobbins feed thread to machines that sew cloth…hold  pieces of cloth together.”
“Suppose there were no bobbins, then what?”
“Then we would be walking around naked or covered with the hairy skins of animals.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Not really meaning to … just exaggerating a bit..”

I bet some readers do not even know what a BOBBIN is!  I bet there are even some readers
who do  not care a  whit about BOBBINS. Too Bad.  Why?  Because those readers will miss
out on what to us was a wonderful surprise…and experience almost beyond words.




“I just love these English country roads…narrow and twisty with a new and sometimes startling
thing to see at every twist and turn.”
“Fine for you, Alan, you have the front seat.”
“As things should be.”
“Why?”
“I am the senior person on this excursion….have a little respect.”
“Too bad about the rain, Alan.”
“Not so bad…”
“Why?”
“Rain and fog lend  an air of mystery to the road…”
‘Like a  time machine”
“Yeah…better idea…like driving into the past…time travelling….good  idea.”






“Things pop out at us….and then they are gone.”
“Click…click…click.”







“Descending from Kirkston Pass to Lake Windermeere now”
“Rhododendrons along the road now.”


“Jam on the brakes, Gabriela…something unusual over there on the left.”
“Barn…stone barn?”
“More than that…something weird…really old…strange.”
“A barn full of tent poles…why save long poles…piles of them.”
“Do a quick turn into the driveway…careful…”





“Turn now.”
“A factory…in a rural setting…”
“Sign  says STOTT PARK BOBBIN MILL…open to the public”


“Wonder why there are pipes and  piles of sticks and  poles all over the place.?”



“Let’s cut to the quick before we go any farther…this place made bobbins…all kinds of them…
millions of them.  The big textile mills  in Lancashire needed millions of bobbins.  At one time
in the 19th century there were 300 factories like this making bobbins by the millions.  The
Stott Park Bobbin Mill is the only one left.”
“What happened to all the others?”
“Plastics…$%^%& plastic bobbins drove all mills like this  to the wall.:
:How come this mill survived?”
“Just saved in nick of time by English Heritage people…it had closed in 1979 and  was
about to enter the scrap yard when one man  alerted  the government people about
the mill…THIS PLACE IS WORTH SAVING?”
“Why worth saving?”
“Because this mill had  never been modernized…no electruc machines.   All the lathes
ran from one gigantic  line shaft powered by an ancient steam  engine.  In the early years
the factory was powered by a water wheel but became ‘modernized’ with a steam engine.”




“Pardon me, do you sell any of these bobbins?”
“Sure do…visit the gift shop.”
(Marjorie bought a suitcase full of bobbins.”
“Best sale  we’ve had this year.” said the gift shop lady.



“I was more intrigued  by the tour guide.”
“Why?”
“Couple of reasons.  She was an excellent guide.  Here she hold one of the sticks that I mentioned earlier were strewn around the outside of the factory.
These sticks would be cut into short pieces and then shaved into rough bobbins.”

“She did not like me.  At least, I felt she did not like me…for a couple of good reasons.”
“That’s because you are precocious, Alan…bold and self-obsessed…just too enthusiastic  at times.”
“Guilty as  charged.”

“She really knew the factory…every machine….every bobbin…she even knew
how the flyable governor on the steam engine maintained speed of the hug drive wheel
that powered the whole place.





“What is missing in all these pictures?”  Think about it.  There is something missing that led to
the early death of many Bobbin factory workers.  What is it?  Answer at end but
you can figure it out.  Many died of consumption and the lung diseases. What caused
these deaths?  What is missing from the pictures?






“Normally, back  in he 19rh century, this floor was covered as much as waste deep in Bobbin shavings…so
much so that sometimes  the machines had to be shut down to clear the shavings. “
“Wasn’t there a danger of fire?”
“Definitely…anything that gave off sparks had to be removed…such as the tool grinders.”
“Any use for all those shavings?”
“The shavings and waste wood chunks were used to fire up the steam engine.  “
“So everything made sense…even the scrap.”








High up above the lathes … the mighty line shaft with a drive pulley for each lathe.   

“Aren’t those drive belts dangerous…could  kill.”
“Yes, they are shielded by wood cribbing close to the lathes…and there is a severe to slide the belt on to an idling pulley.”
“My dad worked in factory like this.  He told me about a fellow worker who decided to push the drive belt towards the idling pulley by hand.”
“Dangerous.”
“You bet.  the poor guy got his hand caught and his body was thrown around and around until he was dead.  I had an image from that
story that I cannot forget.  The fellows limbs came apart.   Nothing could be done.  Other workers  ran down the factory to shut down
the drive engine but by then all was mayhem.  Did that happen here?”
“Yes, there were injuries…many…a lot of the workers were children.”
“Any accidents recorded?”
“In 1860, at Crooklands Bobbin mill,Thomas Fox, aged14, got caught in a drive belt by his head  and shoulders…carried to the ceiling line shaft
where his head was crushed…supposed to have died instantly.”
“So my dad’s story was  likely accurate?”



“You said children.”
“Child labour laws were non existent for decades and when they did come into affect they only applied to children under ten.”
“Why would parents let their kids near these machines?”
“Poverty…and some children had  no parents…”
“No parents?”
“Liverpool is not far away from here.  Orphanages collected street children…a lot of them were sent here…some stayed…some 
ran away.  Others were always available.”
“Did any get hurt that you know about.”
“There is a  record of one boy working here with his hand bound up because the hole filling lathe pierced  his hand…like taking
an electric drill through your hand.”
“Long hours…doing repetitive tasks like boring holes in bobbins…pushed hard by overseers….fatigue spells trouble.”
“And  this is a remote rural factory…surrounded by wilderness.  One boy, Kit Cloudsdale, 13 years old, was sent on a five 
mile errand.   He froze to death.”

“Where do these stairs go?”
“Tool grinding room…lots of sparks…”


“The line shaft powered the large grindstone but a thick stone
wall  separated the grinding room from the factory floor. Fires in
19th century factories were common.   Imagine someone stupid
enough to light pipe on the factory floor?  There must have been rules here.


“There are holes in the stone interior walls to let the drive belts through.  This hole
has no purpose other than a site line…perhaps so the overseer could be sure
the tool grinding was  being done right.


Polished bobbins were shipped in sacks to the cotton mills  in Lancashire and to textile mills elsewhere in the world.
Not just in the thousands but in the millions.  Weighed on this scale.



“Hey look here…do not look away…do not day dream…do not look over at your friend on the next machine.”
“Why not?”
“Look at that drive belt…now imagine your hand or our hair getting caught…instantly maimed or killed.  These factories
were dangerous.”
‘Why work in places like this?”
“No choice really…food and a place to live…many workers at Stott Park spent their entire working life on one of these machines…doing the
same thing thousands  of times  per day…boring, shaping, polishing, grinding, …some felt lucky to have a steady job.



Only pauper boys were allowed to work at the Stott Park Bobbin Mill.   Girls, however, were allowed work in the cotton 
factories as  above.  Note the long lines of bobbins wound with cotton thread.


Pauper children around  1900.




Another young boy at work in a Lancashire cotton mill.  Pilesof bobbins in front and behind him.



Young boy at work in the Stott Parkin Bobbin factory about 1900.   Sometimes the wood  chips got two feet deep.



This is a picture of Marjorie in the Stott Park Bobbin Mill shop buying more Bobbins than they sold  all month.
“Why did she buy them?”
“Movies may use them in some period  motion picture someday…”
“Someday?”
“My thoughts precisely.”

“Look in the top right corner of this picture.”
“What am I looking at?”
“That little platform up near the driveshaft is where the factory foreman could look down on his
workers…make sure they were doing a good job.”



“See that round trim that looks like a whiskey barrel?”
“Looks like a whisky barrel for sure,”
“That is  a whisky barrel made into a polishing drum…dump in 
a pile of bobbins, bounce them around and they come out polished.”
“Do they smell like good scotch whisky?”
“Not sure.”


“Now  here is a mathematics  challenge to you.”
“pick one of these two bobbin pictures ..  count the bobbins…then
multiply times  10…i.e.  100 x 10 equals 1,000 British pounds or $2,000 Canadian dollars.
Fortunately Marjorie did  not see this bobbin pile.   She only bought 7 big bobbins which cost a pretty penn anyway.”
“Is that what they were worth long ago?”
“Nope…a new bobbin sold for a penny or so I think…those were days  when a penny was worth something though.”

Quote from John Gibson,1878, letter to Ulverston Board of Guardians concerning CHILD LABOUR

“WE send them at 12 or 14 for seven years without remuneration…When their time is up they are discharged…and we send
other boys to fill their places  at the mills.  They are in many cases…over-worked, half clothed and fed and  in many ways very
unfairly used.”

Caring for the poor has been a social  problem for a long time.  When England was largely rural poor relief was  provided by parishes…money
collected  to cover food, shelter, food and clothing.  Such relief was  spotty so in 1834 the Poor Law was  amended.  Each parish was expected
to build workhouses where poor families were expected to do  work for their relief.  Families were separated.  Many pauper children became a
problem and  the workhouse guardians tried to find work for these children in local industries  like Stott Park Bobbin Mill.  The only way we know
much  about these children is through the reports  of the Relieving Officers of the workhouses.  Charles  Dickens novel Oliver Twist made many
middle class citizens aware that abuse was  common.



Answer to question:  What is not shown in these pictures is THE DUST THAT FILLED THE AIR and promoted lung diseases that killed
workers as  young as  37.

Conclusion:   It took ten years to rebuild the Stott Park Bobbin Mill.  But credit for the saving of the bobbin mill must go to one man, Jack Ivison who began working 
as the mill in 1927 and was  the mill maser when it closed in 1971.   Jack Ivison then  urged English  Heritage to accept the mill as  an  important part of English industrial history.



Touring the mill in June 2019 made me think of the lyrics to DIRTY OLD TOWN by the Pogues.

POGUES


Dirty Old Town Lyrics


I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed my girl by the factory wall

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

Clouds a drifting across the moon
Cats a prowling on their beat
Spring’s a girl from the streets at night

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I heard a siren from the docks
Saw a train set the night on fire
Smelled the spring on the smoky wind

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I’m going to make me a good sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fire
Will chop you down like an old dead tree

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed my girl by the factory wall

Dirty old town
Dirty old town

Dirty old town
Dirty old town



“Morgan, meet me at the Baird .” (a story exaggerated so cut the criticism)

TWO REASONS TO VISIT THE BAIRD PUB IN MUSWELL HILL

alan skeoch
June 2019


“Grandpa, said to meet him here…I can only imagine why.”

“Ah, yes, the Baird…”
“Only pub in  Muswell Hill, unless you count the converted church  on the main street.”




“Alan, sort of an odd place for us to meet.”
“Historic place, Marjorie…in TWO WAYS.”
“Really, how?”



“Well, Morgan, has just turned 18 so  I thought it would be a good idea  to meet at the Baird.”


“And have her first glass of beer”
“Alan, that is  a gross idea…don’t you agree Morgan?”
“I do.”
“Just a sip…make it look authentic.”
“OK, grandpa.”


“And REASON NUMBER TWO?”
“Look behind  Morgan and the beer glass…what do you see?”
“Old TV sets…junk”
“Right…On this site a young Scot name JOHN LOGIE BAIRD invented the first TV set back in 1922’
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope…Baird  was a mechanical genius  but poor as  a church mouse.  He took sick which gave him time
to tinker with electronics…really primitive…and what he invented  was television.”
“Why  would  Morgan be interested in that?”
“She is standing on the edge of adulthood…life takes strange directions…twists and turns…sometimes
a twist leads  on to great things.   Sometimes a person cannot see where life is going.   Morgan knows all  that but
I thought this visit to the Baird would just put some icing on the cake…some beer foam on the pint as it were.”


“And sometimes  pictures are very deceptive…like the picture above.”
“…and the same applies to words.”










“Here is the history of John Logie Baird.”
“I have never seen anyone stop to read it…Morgan is a reader which
is  wonderful for she will read and  remember this visit.”

THE HERTFORDSHIRE FAIR…AND A LUMP OF FUDGE WITH TOOTH MARKS ENGLAND 2019

DAY AT THE ROYAL HERTFORDSHIRE FAIR    


alan skeoch
May 2019




May 26, 2019

‘ Get up, we are travelling to he Herefordshire Fair today!”
“Ever been there before?”
“No, but there are horses, sheep dogs, wicker workers, eagles and a beer wagon”
“Many people?”
“Do not know…likely lots on this sunny day.”
“Any big work horses with hairy hooves?”
“If there’s beer, there will be Clydesdales…”

(Turned out there were at least 1,000 cars and only 4 big work horses…lots
of other horses though.   “Did you know there are only 17 Clydesdale stallions
left?”  … hope that is not true.)



Big Mouth
Big lump of fudge…a social thing for we all shared a bite…left tooth
marks like a bunch of  rats  eating cheese.



The feature food we shared at the Herts Fair was fudge…big chunks of fudge…we all took a good gnaw…
I got to like the stuff… my teeth marks…Marjorie’s teeth marks are on the left.

Why eat fudge?
Because good  food was too expensive…

“How much did you pay to get us in here, Kevin?”
“20 pounds each…that’s $40 Canadian.”
“You must be joking.”
“Get over it, Dad.”
“Pass the fudge….”





Skills from the past…see if you can find other examples of basketmaking…

“Is that horse drunk, Morgan?”
“Grandpa, you say the silliest things.”
“What do you think, Nolan?”
“Same as my sister…that horse is trained
to play dead.’
‘I think it is dead…dead drunk.”


“Is this a tractor?”
“Apparently.”
“What statement does such a  huge machine make?”
“Simple…there are no small farmer left…”
“Applies to Canada  as well.”


“Marjorie, look at the guy beside me…he is shoving a whole ice cream cone down
his throat.”
“We may have to apply the Heimlich (sp?) in a moment.”
“Grab him from behind, lock your arms under his rib cage…give a heave…”
“What if he is  not gagging?”
“Run like hell.”


“How much a pint, bud?”
“4 pounds 50 pence, can I pour?”
“That’s about $10 Canadian, did  you know that?”
“You are in England, sir, not Canada…pint of the best beer
coming …”

(Reader:  See if you can find this pint in the pictures  below.)




See?   Not the riders…the beer…I did not think you would find the picture so
had  to tell you.   Sad thing about my $10 glass of beer is that I asked Martin
to hold  it for me and never saw it again.  



Just finding the car was a task…there were four huge fields packed  with cars…I mean more than a thousand.

“What do you want for supper?”
“Let’s have a home cooked meal.”
“Right!!!”


What is harder than plastic? Answer: A STONE WALL…WE HIT IT.


ROCK WALLS ARE CLOSING IN ON US…THEN  BAM!  NO MIRROR!

alan skeoch
june 2019 in lake district of England


Just what I wanted to see…a stone barn…beautiful…can you find another Gabrela?


LAKE DISTRICT, ENGLAND…JUNE 2019

A GOOD STORY always has a touch of exaggeration.  Look at Gabriela’s mirror…held on with scotch tape because she
hit a post some time ago.    We came so damn close that I moved her story to our story…makes a better story don’t you think.

We came so damn close to those stone walls that I could touch them if I was that stupid.  

Gabriela’s repair job worked even though a  little tacky.

alan skeoch
June 2019


SEQUEL..Re: The GRAVE STARTLED ME…WHY WAS private Toghill buried HERE IN 1916?

My fellow teacher at Parkdale solved the mystery big time.
Hi Al -hope you’re having a great trip. I have been able to access Pvt. Toghill’s records on line, through the Virtual War Memorial and through Library and Archives Canada. William Thomas Toghill was wounded in action 9-9-16…suffering from a gunshot wound to the head and shell shock. He was treated in various hospitals but died of his wounds at the West life Hospital in Folkestone. The records indicate that he was born in London (1889) and that he was buried in St. Pancreas cemetery. His next of kin was his wife Mary, living in Montreal. There is a photo of him and of the stone on the VWM site. Hope this is of interest -Pvt. Toghill was probably buried near where he lived in London. So many lives lost, so many terrible stories…makes me think of the Irish tune The Green Fields of France. Talk soon! Bon voyage! Jack
> On Jun 5, 2019, at 12:42 PM, SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com> wrote: > > FORGOTTEN GRAVE > > alan skeoch > June 6, 2019 > > “Strange grave…no, it is a startling grave. What is this grave doing here?” > > > > > Every time I visit London, I take a long walk in Coldfall Wood. The forest has been here for at least 400 years dominated by trees so large > and ancient that the sunshine cannot reach the forest floor. Huge oak trees dominate the skyline with hundreds of Hornebeam trees filling in > the canopy. As a result the forest is delightfully open except where foresters have used chain saws to get a little light to the forest floor. > Coldfall Wood is not my only reason to be here. Besides the Wood is an ancient graveyard with old gravestones all askew because no one seems to care > about this graveyard. No grass is cut. No shrub is pruned. No gravestone is straightened. No strangling tangle of holly is removed. With the > result that this huge graveyard near East Finchley, North London, seems forgotten. Deliberately so. The decision to let the graveyard > become a tangled garden of wild plant and home for small wild creatures was deliberate. > > There are trails that wave randomly through the graveyard. Foot paths taken by a few dog walkers and perhaps a derelict or two looking > for a place to sleep. A hiding place. Some young Lodoners have built a tree fort high high in the branches of one immense bech tree…room > enough for a two storey structure of broken pallets. The fort is as hidden as the graves. > > On this visit, perhaps my tenth, I decided to walk along a very overgrown path. Had to push my way through a dense Holly grove. “What is that? > Looks recent, a grave not festooned with wild plants.” … “Something familiar about the grave…looks like the thousands of similar gravestones > in France. An incised Maple Leaf.” Easy to read the stone… grave of Prvate W. T. > Toghill, 13th battalion, Canadian Infantry, buried here on November 16, 1916. He was 33 ;years old. > > Someone knows that private Toghill is buried here. The stone has been in place for 103 years and yet it has no ivy, no tree roots crossing > the place where Private #132310 lies. But why is he not buried with other Canadians in the special graves of soldiers killed in World War I. > > And I wonder who keeps this grave so clear. > > alan skeoch > June 2019 > > > > > > >