Category: Mystrious Templar Tales & Local History


St Michaels Mount in Cornwall and Mont St Michel in Normandy – both straight out of ‘Myths & Legends’

A Tale of Two Mounts: Allow me to transport you to two beautiful and seemingly out of the world places across the seas; St Michael’s Mount in Cornwall, England and Mont St Michel in Normandy, France, both are beautiful and fairy tale worlds with much in common. Both mounts have many secrets to reveal to those who are willing to look and listen and to see the tales unravel of past and present within the dimesions. The Archangel Michael is said to have appeared at both sites and of course both sites sit upon significant ‘energy lines’.

Traveling to St Michael’s Mount in Cornwall, one can either take a small boat ride when the tide is high or walk across the man-made granite causeway between mid-tide and low water. The mount and its castle is indeed a faitytale sight rising up out of the seas as one approaches. The mount’s Cornish language name literally means ‘the grey rock in a wood’ maybe hinting to a time before the sea flooded and the island was cut off from the main-land with maybe, some would say, many more tales that lie hidden under the surface ‘folk memory’. It is a very ‘energetic’ place which is no surprise, for it is a part of the famous St Michaels Ley Line.

A short journey across topaz coloured seas…

Historically, and in a Craft sense too, St Michael’s Mount is a Cornish counterpart of Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy, France with which it shares the same tidal island characteristics and the same conical shape, in spite of it being much smaller, yet they also share very similar myths, legends and sightings. It was given to the Benedictine religous order by Edward the Confessor in the 11th century and it is thought that the site could have been a monastry in the 8th to early 11th centuries. (Many more historical facts can be read on my actual quest write up previously posted) All over the Island references can be seen to the Arch Angel Michael, and also at Mont St Michel in France too; my focus here. Over the years there have been instances of earthquakes and floods destroying older buildings and even a tsunami which caused great loss of life along this part of the Cornsh coast.

Imposing upon the rocks

In history St Michael’s Mount was in the possession of the monks of the ‘sister’ isle of Mont St Michel in Normandy, at around the time of the Norman Conquest of 1066 and it was in the twelfth century that the monks built the church and priory. In 1193 the mount was seized by Henry La Pomery and again, (moving on in history) during the ‘Wars of the Roses’ was held by the Earl of Oxford. Yet do not let us forget or undestimate the many secret and hidden reasons for earthly wars and the attainment of power among men. For the history of these magificant lands is very far removed from modern-time ventures. What is important, especially on a Craft level, is the foundation of something that has been ‘hidden’ for centuries, and yet remains the knowledge within the walls of that which was moved.

St Michael: The angel Michael is said to have appeared to fishermen here in the 8th century AD. There are tales that date back to 495AD, of seafarers being lured to the rocks by mermaids, but then saved by an apparition of St Michael, whom guided them to safety. Within the history of the mount a series of miracles and legends of the apearance of Saint Michael have bought folks of all faiths to this island for centuries. The church on the island is of course named after St Michael and has a beautiful statue of the angel inside.

Local Legends of Giants: Amongst the rock, within the leylines and energy-flow, a local legend states that during the 6th century, before a castle was ever built, the island sat upon what was once home to an 18 foot giant named Cormaran, who lived in a cave with his ill-gotten treasures from terrorizing local towns and villages. That is, until a young farmer’s son named Jack, who lived in the town of Marazion, the ‘gateway’ to the mount made an appearance. Jack knew that the town had to destroy the ‘curse of the beast’ and took on this gigantic menace, whom had an appetite for cattle and for children. So one evening Jack ventured onto the cobble-stone causeway and blew his horn. The beast came down the mount to see what the noise was and Jack sneaked around and up the mount to reach the stone called ‘The Stone Heart’. Jack smashed the stone heart with his horn and the beast dissapeared, never to be seen again. Another version tells of Jack slaying the giant by trapping him in a concealed pit, bringing down his axe upon his head. When he returned home, the elders in the village gave him a hero’s welcome and henceforth, called him ‘Jack the Giant Killer.

The Giants Well – halfway up

Solomon’s Cross: Hidden away peacefully on a quiet terrace of the island overlooking the sea, and never written about anywhere, is a mysterious single solitary cross; a reminder of an earlier time in our history, that to some is lost forever, yet to others is as alive and vibrant as it ever was. The cross is a direct bloodline connection to ‘Solomon Solamh’ and to those who choose to know, a further significant pointer to the  ‘Neville Bloodline’. So for this first time on our quests we had a mention of the Irish Bloodline connection and of how the ‘True Bloodline‘ came to these lands, of a connection to the High Kings of Ireland and of their travels to further afield.

 

Where he needed to be….

Our lasting thoughts of this day would be with that single solitary cross, which everyone passes by and that if ever there were a place so profound, it would be that of St Michael’s Mount. Standing alone upon the mount and looking towards the ocean we see the solitary cross upon the mound and to that we cast our eyes and thoughts to Solomon, to the of Solamh. Such that a place so sacred and treasured should always be. As the tides of time do wash the sands of history away, we see that the mound exists to share with those whom see it’s beauty and tellings beyond the mundane…

Mont Saint-Michel: Mont Saint-Michel in lower Normandy, France rises up over the French landscape overlooking the land for miles around. The actual Abbey lies at the peak of a rocky islet less than half a mile off the coast of Normandy from land, the commune there was made accessible at low tide to the many pilgrims to its abbey, but still defensible due to incoming tides stranding or drowning would-be assailants. The island remained unconquered during the Hundred Years War where a small garrison fended off a full attack by the English in 1433, until Louis XI recognised the reverse benefits of its natural defences and turned it into a prison.  Now a rocky tidal island, with modern access roads, the Mont occupied dry land in prehistoric times.

Rising up out of the Normandy landscape

The abbey is an essential part of the structural composition of the town that the feudal society constructed. At the very top, G-d, the abbey, and the monastery. Below this, the Great halls, then stores and housing, and at the very bottom (outside the walls), fishermen’s and farmers’ housing.  The monks there durung first century of their institution, venerated the archangel Michael. The Mont became a place of prayer and study, but the stable period, during the reign of Charlemagne ended when he died. At first, pilgrims kept coming to the Mont but after the Vikings captured the Mont in 847, the monks departed. The abbey has had a rich and varied history and starting in 1922, Christian worship was again practiced in the abbey. The wealth and influence of the abbey extended to many daughter foundations, including St. Michael’s Mount in Cornwall. (more historical facts can be found on the relevant quest pages) The tides vary greatly, at roughly 14 metres (46 ft) between highest and lowest water marks. Popularly nicknamed “St. Michael in peril of the sea” by medieval pilgrims making their way across the flats, the mount can still pose dangers for visitors who avoid the causeway and attempt the hazardous walk across the sands from the neighbouring coast.

At the very top St Michael on the spire

The access to the Mont, unlike its sister in Cornwall is often by a ‘standing-room’ only shuttle bus, across the bay, with a bit of a walk at the other end. Old very steep stone steps take one to the very top of the mont, it is a long and ardurous journey up, with many rests needed along the way. The abbey complex is much bigger than one would imagine with many facets to it. In times past one can easily imagine what an isolated life the monks and visiting knights here, would have led. A gold statue of St Michel rest atop of the spire there. There are many lovely traditional shops and resturants on the island and a Templar pressence is very obvious there too, which is of no surprise. Sadly all the sacred ‘energies‘ that would have been there at one point in time are now no more; probably eroded away by mankind’s unspiritual interactions; interactions that are as much about ‘giving back’ as ‘receiving’ (taking) upon the shores of time. Folks fail to realise this and energies dissipate and move as and when (or where) they need to. There is so much more to this world and these important sites than folks will ever realise.

Local Legends: The original site was founded by an Irish hermit, who gathered a following of his own from the local community. The island was called Mont Tombe (Latin: tumba) and the story goes that one night in the year 708, the Archangel Michael, leader of God’s armies against Satan, appeared to St. Aubert, the bishop of Avranches, in a dream. The archangel ordered the bishop to build a sanctuary in his name at the top of the island. Aubert ignored this order; after all, it was only a dream. The next night, the Archangel Michael appeared again and repeated his order to build a sanctuary at the top of Mont Tombe in his honor. Again, Aubert was unconvinced, and in any case, building a church on overgrown and rocky terrain on an isolated mount surrounded by the sea would be an immense task. Thus, it suited the bishop to ignore this recurring dream. Faced with such obstinacy, St. Michael realized that he would need to work on his powers of persuasion, so as Aubert slept the following night, the Archangel Michael pressed his finger into Aubert’s forehead and repeated his command. Aubert awoke the next morning to find that the archangel had burned a hole in his head. He needed no further convincing! In late 709, a church was built and devoted to Archangel Michael.

St Michel depicted in a church painting

St Michel and the Dragon: Apparently, it is no coincidence that St. Michael chose this location for the church. Some believe that it was on this mount that St. Michael won his mighty victory over the dragon, described in the New Testament’s Book of Revelations (12:7-9):

“And there was war in heaven: Michael and his angels fought against the dragon; and the dragon fought and his angels, and prevailed not… the great dragon was cast out, that old serpent called the Devil and Satan, which deceiveth the whole world: he was cast out into the earth, and his angels were cast out with him”.

There are many tellings on the internet of St Michael and the dragon/satan at Mont St Michel, of a quarrel between them and St Michel needing to escape from his malicious neighbour whom kept him in poverty. St Michel tried to protect himself and built a home on an islet in the open ocean (what would eventually be known as Mont Saint Michel).  For protection, he surrounded his island with treacherous quicksand. St Michael ended up making various promises and deals with the devious devil, to save and protect himself and eventually saved himself and kicked the devil off the island.

Slaying the ‘dragon’….

Connections to King Arthur: Sir Beldivere was a trusty supporter of Arthur from the beginning of his reign, and one of the first knights to join the Knights of the Round Table. He helped Arthur fight the Giant of Mont St Michel in Normandy; a giant that ravaged France until confronted by King Arthur. It abducted the niece of the King of Brittany and took her to his cave in the mountains known as Mont St. Michel. He plundered the nearby villages, spreading fear among the locals. Hearing this, King Howel asked for the help of King Arthur and his knights to kill the Giant. King Arthur ventured with Sir Kay, Sir Bedivere and two squires.They rode through the deserted forests until they they were within site of Mont St. Michel. Upon the mountain range they saw two fires burning, one to the east and one to the west. King Arthur could not decide which one to investigate first and so he sent Bedivere to the smaller fire. Bedivere journeyed across the rocky terrain and drew his sword when he heard movements. When he came to the fire he met an old woman mourning next to a tomb. She told him that she cried for the death of a girl that she had nursed since childhood who had been killed by the Giant. She told Bedivere to leave this place now before the devilish beast killed them all. Bedivere reported back to King Arthur who decided to travel to the other larger fire alone. King Arthur with sword and shield in hand, approached the Giant in an attempt to catch him off-guard. The Giant rose up immediately and took a club of oak which he put in the fire. The two fought ferociously until King Arthur cut the Giant between his eyebrows. Blinded by blood the Giant thrashed about with his club and eventually caught Arthur’s arm. The King wrestled free and after exchanging blade against wood, the King thrust his sword under the Giant’s crocodile skin armor and killed him. He then called for assistance from Sir Kay to behead the enormous man, and prove to the locals that the Giant had been slain.

Who is Saint Michel? Angels have always been with us upon this earth, whether we wish to admit it or not, they have been here in many guises over many centuries and have been known by other names including The Watchers. Angels are able to cross the boundaries of time and space in all dimensions. St Michael is associated with this earth, with the energy of the earth, with leylines in particular, especially the famous line named after him. His name appears time and time again, upon this earth, especially where churches named after him are concerned. He is the angel that is seen to be fighting for good and is seen to be victorious over evil and is known as Prince of the Heavenly Host. He is the angel whom will fight the dragon, the ancient serpent, known as the devil or satan. Many paintings and statues of him are to be found at the sites that bear his name; the sites upon The St Michel Ley Line.

St Michael from Brentnor Church on The St Michael Ley Line

The St Michel/Apollo Ley Lines: Ley lines are electro-magnetic energy lines that run through our earth. Both St Michael’s Mount in Cornwall and Mont St Michel in Normandy have these ley lines running through them. The Appollo line runs through Normandy and The St Michael Line runs through Cornwall; the point of connection between the two lines is at St Michaels Mount, where the cross over, the intersection forms a Templar Cross. Ley Lines are part of the grid of energy that covers the surface of the earth, connecting many ancient spiritual sites. (Much more on Ley Lines and accurate mappings can be found in the excellent new book ‘Finding Camelot’ by Karl Neville). The lines do have special significance upon this earth and what is clear is that they have a special significance within the riddles of the Grail Quests too. The St Michael Alignment runs through the southern part of England and many sites upon it’s 350 mile course do bear the name of St Michael. The St Michael Ley Line is an important aspect of the island in Cornwall, having been under the sea on the ocean bed for many a good year and the ‘energies’ there draw folks to it time and time again in the hope of discovering something more to life. At the side of the ancient church of St Michael, the very rock is said to grant ‘romantic wishes’ for anyone whom touches the rock and asks for their wishes to be granted.  Much of this of course has to do with the energy of the Mount connecting with the person’s ‘power of though’, something that Craft/Templar folks will know a lot about. This thus enables them to put across a more convincing reason and understanding to their loved one. Whatever you think you know already about the St Michael’s Line, you will probably be wrong, for the line embeds, diverts and repeats itself in ‘mirror-images’ throughout the earth with ease, and through time and space. It is likely to alter it’s ‘projections’ in the near future too, for as the earth changes, so do the lines.

 

The Appollo Line amd the St Michael Line intersect at St Michael’s Mount

So these two magnificant sites both named after St Michael have been very significant within time and space, especially earthly time and space, both with tellings of battles fought and giants slain, also battles fought for good over evil. St Michael, so it is said has appeared at both sites and is a part of the energy alignment there, part of the energy alignment of the earth which bear his name. Of course the many sacred sites on the lines (and the leylines themselves) go back much further than modern day pagans believe, although the folks of old whom were in tune to these alignments, being guided to be so, did create (under guidance) the ‘waymarkers’ in time upon the sites, but they were not the ‘pagan’ folks we are lead to believe they were.

Let us then stop and consider for one moment. We know that throughout time and space, the same ‘energy line’ will have different names upon this earth, as the quest tales, my writings and stories bear witness to, time and time again. So let us consider then, is St Michael, actually Azazel? For the St Michael energy line lies within the earth, Azazel too has ‘earthly’ connections, for ‘he’ was/is buried for many centuries deep within the earth…. and as we know there is no such thing as coincidence….

‘Never underestimate an Angel for they may not be whom you think they are’

 

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’ May 2021

AKA <moon.willow@ntlworld.com>

 

Sources: Previous Quest posts and teachings, ‘Finding Camelot’ by Karl Neville – available now on Amazon!

 

“Within the histories of these lands are tales woven from time; tales of heroic knights, of knightly endevours, of battles fought for kingship and power. Magical tales trapped within time’s own landscape, of demons, of magic and the unexplained. For all to see and enjoy. Our earthly plane has always been a place of mystery and mythology, of historical deeds, of legendary bloodlines and valiant endeavours by the brave to unlock the riddles of the past, to unravel the mysteries. Humans have tried for centuries to find the pieces of an ancient puzzle, often hidden within the very land itself; each piece has been carefully placed, often just out of reach but well within plain sight. Let me share some experiences that i have enjoyed… “

‘Raising the Devil’ at St Mary’s Church, Akenaham, Suffolk

IMAG0225

St Mary’s Church near Akenham in Suffolk is right off the beaten track; up an inclined grassy pathway that winds past Rise Hall (formerly Rice Hall); one of the church’s ancient manors. The church nestles timelessly in the beautifully English countryside or so it would seem… This lovely little, almost abandoned church does however hold some secrets connected to a very interesting past. It has the nickname of ‘St Mary’s in the Fields’ and stands on a rise amidst the meadows, over a quarter of a mile from the nearest road and a challenge in itself to actually locate it. Once at St Mary’s the views across the surrounding countryside are truly stunning. Yet again, another church that seemingly no-one wants ‘outsiders’ to find and like Borley Church there are no road signs or directions to it. We ended up having to ask directions a few times from folks who seemed quite reticent to give them. There are several very interesting tales about St Mary’s Church, stories of strange ‘happenings’, folks seeing ‘ghosts’ appearing in the church windows, a world war two bomber, on hs way home, literally dumping his bombs nearby and obliterating the church, and there are the reports from the village of the bells ringing for no reason. It has even been said that one can ‘raise the devil’ by walking thirteen times, widdershins around the church – a challenge indeed!!

Raising the Devil

So here we were, all ready and expectant outside this small church in Suffolk where we were about to put the ‘raising of the devil’ tale well and truly to the test. We had our ‘willing’ volunteer, who was about to travel widdershins around the church thirteen times while being filmed and monitored at different stages on his way to prove, is it myth, is it legend or is it real?

 

Off goes the willing volunteer – 13 times widershins! Beware the darkening sky!

So, the journey began and as our ‘willing’ researcher made his tentitive way widdershins (anti-clockwise) around the church, we all waited expectantly. As he journeyed around the church, we all began to notice some strange changes in the overall atmosphere of the area, and more than one of our party experienced some definite ‘pressures’ to the forehead with a feeling of tenseness occurring, around about the 6th lap. On completing all the laps, a weird unexplained ‘darkness’ had descended and quite quickly and to be honest the whole atmosphere had changed, around the church. It had become decidedly ‘heavy’ and the little monitor we had with us to record the ‘frequencies’ had certainly changed in the time we had been there, so we knew ‘something’ of some kind had happened.

So was it the very devil’ himself making his presence know, or was something else afoot, were there unexplained ‘energies’ there on the site, or maybe just coincidence? Although as anyone knows there is no such thing as coincidence – not in this world!

Important to note that when our volunteer went around on the 6th lap of the church, a black cloud arrived overhead, yet ONLY above the church and the immediate vicinity with hail stones occurring – yet not down at Rise Hall or anywhere else for that matter! On our volunteer’s 6th lap widdershins, our head researcher, had an intense pressure in the front and side of his head which was also when the black cloud arrived. It was strange to observe, fascinating and interesting…

Of course, one has always to keep an open mind and decide entirely for one’s self. England is full of these such tales and experiencing them for one’s self can be an eye opening experience. Why not make a trip out into the rural wilds of magical England and see and experience for yourself…..

“Places of power

Where enegy abounds

Hidden tales

Within our lands”

 

‘The Keeper of Scrolls’ AKA ‘moon.willow@ntlworld.com’

January 2021

 

 

 

 

 

The fens where i grew up, were once a mysterious world apart; a vast land of water and peat bogs splattered with tiny islands where the only way to get around was by lone punts and other such water craft. These were the days before the fens were drained to make way for rich agriculture land. A silent world in which other-worldly mists eerily swirled in and out of the lives of the fishermen, the fowlers and the reed cutters as they endevoured to walk about on wooden stilts when the waters rose dangerously high. Even now long after the drainage; the fens do seem to remain a world apart, open, flat, peat blackened and with dykes and embankments that weave their way silently across a ghostly landscape. The feel of a once vast water world still lingers on in the collective memories of today’s fenland folk and many tales are told of witches, sprites, boggarts, will o’the wisp and other strange folk. The many strange place names of the fenland towns and villages that often suggest the ‘ways of old’, seem to have their own tales to tell still waiting to be told. Echoes of the past are everywhere and often time itself appears to have stood totally still. But what of the fenland people themselves and the real, often hard lives they once lived? I hope to be able to give you an insight, a brief glimpse into the winter customs and traditions of the fens.

The Fen Skaters

At the turn of the last century it was still very much a hard way of life with little or no luxuries, especially at Christmas. Home made paper chains and holly would decorate the sparse rooms at Christmas and piles of logs filled the hearths and the rooms would always have a smokey air about them. It was always crisply cold outside (or so it seemed) and everyone huddled around the crackling hearth after a long hard day working on the land. Christmas trees, if you could afford one and many couldn’t, would be decorated with sugar mice, fir cones, and even real tiny candles on metal clip holders. Lots and lots of shimmering tinsel would be hung over the tree, something the children always loved doing and even clumps of cotton wool were scattered on the branches to imitate snow. The aroma of fresh pine filled the household but one never dressed the tree before christmas eve and on coming downstairs on christmas morning, gasps of delight would fill the house as the children of the household caught first sight of the glittering bedecked tree. It was as if a magical winter fairyland had indeed appeared before one and all. Homemade cakes and puddings filled the kitchen shelves and the luxury of the day would be a box of dates, a dish of nuts, an orange or an apple, all washed down with ginger wine. Usually the Christmas dinner would be a goose or a chicken, plucked and fully prepared in the home kitchen on Christmas Eve, after the children were sent to bed early. It was nothing unusual in those days for the women folk to be up to their elbows in giblets! On Christmas evening the pleasures were simple – lots of roast chestnuts, hot mince pies and a cup of cocoa, whilst playing dominos, draughts and the good old favourite, ispy.

The Old Yule or Christmas tree

My own personal memories of growing up in the 50’s and 60’s, were of decorating our real christmas tree bought from Ely market or the local greengrocers, which my dad always carried home on his pushbike. The trees always smelled so fresh and the whole house permeated with the refreshing smell of pine. I remember decorating our tree, which always stood in the front room, in front of the window. The front rooms in those days were always kept ‘for best’ so one always knew it was a special occasion when it was time to dress the tree. I remember dressing the tree with pink and white sugar mice and shiny glass baubles and icicles; we used real candles on the tree in those days, in metal clip-on candle holders, although i don’t really remember actually lighting them! And i have just remembered (in 2026), the little metal clip on birds with the flexible tails – i could i have forgotten those! I remember covering the boughs of the tree with old fashioned shimmering tinsel strands and slewing cotton wool balls all over it too. Paper christmas angels lovingly created at school were also placed upon the tree. Of course we children always enjoyed making our own decorations, including seemingly miles and miles of paper chains all stuck together individually by us children working hard at it in the kitchen. The best decorations however, were always saved for the front room. I remember that very front room always being so chilly and the smokey smell of ‘coke’ fuel wafting around the room as it slowly warmed up, all being a part of those christmas memories.

In those days the ladies of the house always gutted and prepared the christmas bird the night before, usually chicken or goose, and we children delighted in being horrified at the bloody site of our mother being ‘up to her elbows’ in giblets and blood! My brother remembers asking our mother to cut open the bird’s crop so he could see what it had been eating. I do remember one time when my Nan visited from London and seeing both Nan and Mum in the old white-washed walled scullery plucking frantically away at a large white goose, while the scullery floor grew thick with feathers! My brother remembers coming down into the kitchen one night because he couldn’t sleep, only to find our father hard at work making his christmas present  – a wooden hand crafted fort, for him! All of this would have been carried out on christmas eve. I remember too the aroma of the sausage rolls and mince pies cooking and of course on christmas morning the smell of the wonderful herbiness of the christmas bird all ready and cooking in the gas oven! My brother also remembers things like the clip on candles and the home made eggnog, which latter became known as ‘snowballs’, interestingly he remembers how decadent it was for a young boy to see both his mother and father with these ‘continental’ drinks.

We placed gifts from friends and family tantalizingly around the base of the tree and were always allowed to open just one present on christmas eve, which we did with great excitement and anticipation. Upstairs though we hung up a large white pillowcase at the end of the bed and also one of our own knitted knee-socks. I always loved to receive books and painting materials, and i remember two of my best ever presents being my wind up Hornby train set and my conjurers set. It was a simpler time in those days, but very precious. In our little knitted stocking we would find small gifts, chocolates, nuts and tangerines, maybe a packet of wax crayons and some pencils; these items simple in themselves always seems so magical and precious on christmas morning.

Nan and Grandad from London were often with us in Ely for christmas, yet Dad often arrived late for christmas dinner, as he worked at the Ely Sugar Beet Factory and this time was the busiest time of the year, for it was the time of the sugar beet ‘campaign’ and dad worked shifts as did all the workers there.  They worked hard on the sugar beet harvest and there were no special compensations – christmas or no christmas! For a tea-time treat mum often made a snowman out of an old preserving croc which she would cover with sheets of cotton wool and created a round head out of cotton wool with a hat on it. She would then fill it with extra treats for our annual tea-time lucky dip which was all great fun. In the evening i remember toasting chestnuts on the open fire on the old black coal shovel and watching them hiss and burst! The adults and older children drank egg nog, while the younger ones fizzy corona, and we enjoyed a feast of dates, nuts and tangerines; only usually obtained at christmas time! Of course there was no tv in those days but we did have a radio and thrilled to the seasonal dramas which usually included a good old children’s drama. If we were to play games it would have been i spy, passing the parcel or musical chairs. All in all on looking back they were very simple days, but very, very magical and special days too. There was a tangible ‘feeling’ in the air on christmas day, in those far off childhood times. I don’t know if it was because i always saw the magic in everything, but what i do know is that i picked up on the magic at the time and remembered the magic as it was, not just as a rose coloured memory looking back. Simple time yet very precious times that somehow seem to be from another almost forgotten world these days…..

A hard fenland winter always meant good skating though and 1814 was one such a winter, when the usually sluggish River Cam became a beautiful sheet of smooth, shinning ice, all the way down to Ely. It was a strange sight to see the skaters in their caps and gowns on their steel propellers, whirling away under Clare Hall, Gerard’s Hostel and Trinity Bridges, their usually formal gowns streaming out behind them. The fens used to produce some of the finest speed skaters in the country and anyone who has lived in the fens for a long time will no doubt be familiar with the tradition of fen skating. These events were an important event and regularly drew huge crowds and according to a local newspaper report of the time, over six thousand people gathered on Whittlesey Mere on the Monday after Christmas in 1840, both to skate themselves and to watch 16 of the best runners of the day compete for the prize money of £10. An exciting event in every ones eyes, mark my words. And the only accidents reported afterwards were damaged noses and darkened eyes in consequence of fouling or the skaters running into each other!

The little fenland village of Welney boasts the honour of having the fastest speed skaters of all time. All of them having learnt their art on that swampy piece of ground known as Welney Wash which floods every winter. In the 1890’s skaters came from as far afield as Norway and Holland. In those days the winters certainly lived up to their name and produced enough ice each year to last long enough for the fenland skaters to acquire great skills and Cambridgeshire was indeed an ideal nursery for skaters because of it’s many long, open stretches of water. And the fen folks would often use the ice to go about their daily business, especially when the roads so often became impassable. What a breathtaking sight it must have been to see these skaters flying over the ice at a speed of nine or ten miles an hour as part of their daily lives. Indeed the ice became a lifeline; linking village to village and skaters could easily cover forty to seventy miles a day. My own grandfather who hailed from Wicken was also a fenland skater, indeed a champion of his day. His rusty old skates, left hanging on a hook in the back shed, would have been taken down and worn again with pride as he honed his skills by skating all the way from Wicken in the fens all the way down to the River Cam in Cambridge.

The Fen Skaters

Many more tales are told of the fenland skaters and of individual achievements and of weeks and weeks of solid frost – what would we make of it now I wonder and just how would we cope? It somehow seems kind of fun to get the chance to try this almost forgotten fenland sport. Interestingly enough, the very cold winter of 2009 through to 2010 again saw the revival of the fenland skaters. For the first time in decades the fens froze over allowing skaters onto the ice in areas such as Earith in Cambridgeshire. Long forgotten skills were revived and skaters who thought they would never experience the thrill of the open ice again took out of storage their old skates and found themselves competing with old and young alike again for the title of speed skater of the fens. Let’s hope then that this tradition along with many others, continues to make a welcomed return every few years, thus keeping alive the unique history of the watery fenlands.

In early January of 2026, the fenland fields and washes froze over once again bringing skaters out from far and wide, some traveling many miles to enjoy the miles of frozen fields on which to skate. Some were professional speed skaters and the sight of all those skaters were an amazing sight to behold. However health and safety prevailed with many messages going out of where and where not to skate. Welney and Upware were once again the most popular spots proving once again that fenland skating is indeed still very much alive and well.

 

Old Father Christmas

 

Researched from “A Fenland Christmas” by Chris Carling (incl. exerts from Celia Dale, Mabel Demaine, Revd H I C Blake, Frances Collinwood) Compiled with many extra personal childhood and family reminiscences and research from ‘yours truly’  and the ‘Ford’ family. Extra fenland skating snippets from X/twitter. (Fen Skaters@FenSkaters)

 

From the ‘Keeper of Scrolls’

Updated December 2019/2025/2026

The Lord of Misrule Holds Court

The Lord of Misrule Holds Court

Revivals of old customs are not restricted to modern times. The ‘Lord of Misrule’ had his heyday in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when he presided over the revels lasting from All Hallow’s Eve until Twelfth Night. In Cambridge in 1868 a somewhat sedate revival of this tradition was held in the Guildhall.

The Invitation:

YE LORD OF MISRULE
WILL HOLD HIS
COURT IN THE GUILDHALL
ON THE EVENING OF

Thursday, January 2nd, 1868
In the Holly Bower with Yule-Log and head of Boar
will he keep his Festival.

Before him will his lieges take their merry pastime, bells will they jingle, puppets will they play, carols will they sing, at the Quintain will they tilt; in wonder may they be dissolved.

To Shovel Board, to Fox and Goose, and to othere ye games of ancientry and joyaunce does he invite his guests.

In the midst of his Court will rise a tree of marvellous fruit, from whose branches, in place of leaves, gauds and gems shall spring, the droppings whereof shall be transformed into work of cunning craftswomen.

To revive the energies of his liege-men and servants, the Lord of Misrule will provide drink from China, berries from Ceylon and flesh of pig
.
The charge to prepare this Festival is given to the Wardens, Sidesmen and their fellows of St Michael. A tribute of One Shilling current coin of the realm will be demanded. None will be allowed to enter the doors of the Hall who cannot produce a pass to certify that the tribute has been paid.

Whereas, moreover, the Christmas Tree of the Lord of Misrule produces wondrous fruits, he recommends that the other coins be brought in the pocket, that exchanges may be effected, and memorials of the Yule festival of 1867 be preserved by his lieges.

The Festival will commence at six o’ clock.

The Event (as reported by the Cambridge Chronicle)

The Soiree and Christmas festival announced by St Michael’s parish took place in the Guildhall on Thursday evening. The entertainment was of a novel kind and thoroughly Christmas-like; there was a Christmas jollity on the platform; there was a Christmas air pervading the audience; there was a decidedly Christmas savour in the refreshment stall, and in the boar’s head which graced the table; even the dissolving views were on Christmas subjects.

With over six hundred people present, the entertainment was altogether a great success. From six o’clock till seven the audience promenaded to the strains of an excellent band provided by Mr Sippel, and in investing current coins of the realm at the Christmas tree and at the stall for the sale of an abundance of pretty and useful articles, eagerly pressed by the young ladies, who proved themselves such capital saleswomen, in fact perfectly irresistible.

At seven a procession of singers marched on the orchestra where had been erected a spacious bower for the reception of the Lord of Misrule. His lordship took his seat, with the hobbyhorse and dragon on either side, the lady singers, all similarly habited in Christmas costume, being on the right, the gentlemen on the left. His lordship delivered an appropriate prologue, inviting his guests to partake in the revels, and was followed by an exceedingly good selection of carols, very well sang. This, we might say, was the principle feature of the evening.

Then the spectators were invited to various games and to a Marionette Exhibition, but unfortunately, owing to the sudden indisposition of the young lady who was to have worked the puppets, the exhibition could not take place.

Another selection of music followed and a festive collection of dissolving views concluded the entertainment. We should mention that the Revd. G Weldon and the Senior Churchwarden of St Michael’s gave two short readings which were, we fear, very indistinctly heard. Nevertheless, the whole affair was extremely well managed and reflected great credit on all concerned.

(Taken from Cambridge Chronicle, 4th Jan 1868 as featured in “A Fenland Christmas” by Chris Carling)