Kent’s Standing Stones

On By Mick CanningIn archaeology, folklore, kent, standing stones29 Comments

Although not perhaps the first county one would think of when discussing ancient standing stones, Kent does have its share. There are two main sites approximately equidistant on either side of the river Medway in north Kent. The eastern site consists of the remains of two burial chambers (Kit’s Coty House and Little Kit’s Coty House) and the White Horse Stone, all within a kilometre of each other, while the western site consists of the Coldrum Stones (burial chamber) and Addington Long Barrow and Addington Burial Chamber.

The Coldrum Stones

At Little Kit’s Coty House in a light drizzle, I counted seventeen stones, although Donald Maxwell writing in The Pilgrim’s Way in Kent, a short guide published in 1932, claims twelve to fourteen. Various other authorities suggest between nineteen and twenty-one. This is one of those sets of remains that comprise such a jumble of stones it is supposedly impossible to accurately count them – and just to make it harder, they are also supposed to move around (presumably when no one is looking). Thus they are also known by the name The Countless Stones. The largest ones I reckoned were about four meters by two and about three and a half meters by three. The shapes are very irregular, and since they are in a collapsed state there might have been serious damage to some of them. I immediately wondered whether it had originally been the same shape as Kit’s Coty House, a Neolithic chambered long barrow, just a few hundred meters to the north, where the stones are in the form of a dolmen, which would have been a burial chamber at one end of an eighty-four meter mound.

The Countless Stones, or Little Kit’s Coty House

William Stukeley, writing in 1722, recorded that he was told local people remembered a chamber at Little Kit’s Coty House. It had had a covering stone and was pulled down in about 1690.

Both Kit’s Coty House and Little Kit’s Coty House are reckoned to be just under six thousand years old.

Kit’s Coty House

Some nine or ten kilometres away across the Medway Valley are the Coldrum Stones, or Coldrum Long Barrow, dated to between 3985 and 3855 BC. These ones, looked after by the National Trust, are also a burial chamber. Donald Maxwell claimed that there were forty-one stones and that a further fifteen were broken up at an unspecified date during quarrying work. Maxwell also reported a tradition ‘amongst the country people’ that an avenue of stones stretched across the valley from Coldrum to Kit’s Coty, although there is no evidence it ever existed. But coincidence or not, both of these chambers are situated at the same height, about eighty five meters above sea level.

All three burial chambers, then, have been dated to the same period, a thousand years before Stonehenge was built. It seems reasonable, then, to assume they were produced by the same society.

Coldrum has been proved to be a family tomb, the remains of at least 22 people being interred there, with DNA analysis proving their likely close family relationship. Yet amongst these kinsfolk, recent isotopic analysis has shown that maybe the chamber also contained the remains of individuals interred in the fifth to seventh centuries AD.

The White Horse Stone

I say maybe, as there is a very strong caveat connected to this research, and that is that when the human remains were removed in the early twentieth century they were not only not labelled very thoroughly, but they were also passed around several museums and the possibility exists that some bones ended up mis-accredited. Yet it has been proven that some neolithic burial chambers were re-used for burials in the early Anglo-Saxon period.*

The land here has been sculpted by man. Of course, we sculpt the land more and more violently and obviously in the twenty first century, but here, from all these thousands of years ago, are these simple shapes built by ancient folk to inter and celebrate their dead. And these were interactive places. Evidence from other sites shows that some of the bones of these ancestors would be removed at times, although whether as a simple reminder of their elders, or whether for magic or sacred purposes, can only be conjecture. But I like the thought that these bones might be invested with power, that they could be brought into the everyday for protective or ritual purpose.

Now, we view them in a different light, and their sacredness has evaporated. Like a deconsecrated church, but without ever having been formally deconsecrated. It is possible our ancestors would view our visits there as desecration.

But I’m never sure whether you can take any arrangement of stones for granted; they’ve been dismantled in the past, could they have been reassembled?

Incidentally, for those who enjoy Ley Lines, it is worth mentioning that the Ley Line hunter Paul Devereux has described a line passing through The Coldrum Stones and aligning with six nearby churches. Although just to put a dampener on that, perhaps it is also worth mentioning that students at Cambridge University investigated this particular line using computer simulations based on the Ordnance Survey details and concluded that it wasn’t statistically significant – that it was almost certainly just a chance alignment. You takes your pick.

*Research carried out by members of Durham University, Oxford University School of Archaeology and British Geological Survey (Isotope Facility) 2022

The Footpath Book

On By Mick CanningIn books, footpaths, walking, writing28 Comments

Once, I thought I’d write a footpath book, a guidebook for an area I walked frequently and knew well. As well as the practicalities of walking the paths – pointing out turnings that were easy to miss, alternative routes, the geography of the paths – I would also discuss the history and geology of the area, the wildlife and architecture, the folklore…

I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of examples of these books.

But that, naturally, would require me to walk each path carefully noting every point at which I would need to remark on these details. But I know me. I would be coming up to a point where I knew I needed to take note of the vagaries of the route, or points of special interest, and then a mile or two later I’d realise I’d been working on a poem in my head and had forgotten all about the task in hand….I would just find it impossible to keep my focus on the technicalities while walking. And I don’t really do technicalities very well, anyway.

And to have to do this for every step of every part of these routes, well, it’s not what I do. While walking, I’m inclined to drift along, my mind wandering, my focus flitting from one thing to another – whatever catches my eye at the time.

It will just have to go down as another of my discarded projects. The footpath book is for someone else to write.

Phew!

On By Mick CanningIn A Good Place, editing, Fiction, publishing, writing32 Comments

A mere ten days after mentioning I thought I was close to finishing the final draft of A Good Place, it is, in fact, finished. This is the second novel I have written that’s set in India, this time in a fictitious hill station in the Himalaya, amongst the English diaspora remaining behind after Independence.

Having discarded two previous drafts, the skeleton of the story is now essentially the plot I visualised way back when I started.

There is a lesson in there, somewhere.

It will shortly go off to a couple of beta readers for their comments, and then hopefully after that it will just be a case of one final edit, then the hard part. I intend to at least have a go at finding a publisher and / or an agent.

But for now, I think I’ve earned a beer.

D’You Know, I Can’t Even Think Of A Title For This?

On By Mick CanningIn blogging, writing37 Comments

I’m still here, although you might be forgiven for not realising that.

One or two of you might have noticed, though, that I have been an occasional visitor to your blogs over the last few months, but mostly I’ve kept away from WordPress in that time.

Of course.

Life quite often has a tendency to get in the way of my writing. It gets in the way of most of the things I do, actually.

That’s my excuse.

But I’m still plugging away at A Good Place, my novel set in Northern India about the English left behind after Independence, and am now very close to finishing it. I’m also working sporadically on Echoes and Imaginings Issue 2, now I’ve decided what I want it to be about. It’s gonna take a while to finish, though.

Cos life, you know.

Life getting in the way. What a drag.

But as for posts on here, I just seem to have just run out of ideas for now. It has been rather tempting to post the odd political rant during the last few months, but I don’t do politics on here. It would just make me cross and I’d get into arguments and I don’t want to do that. The point is I haven’t felt I’ve had anything worth writing. And I’m a great believer in that if you haven’t got anything to say, then don’t say it.

So for now, I ain’t saying it.

Photographs

On By Mick CanningIn photographs41 Comments

I’ve become very bad at taking photographs. Not exactly lazy, it’s more that my focus is on the world around me. More and more now I find that when I’m out for a walk all my senses are tuned into the world around me – sounds, sights, smells – and I feel I just want to take them all in, rather than try to record them. I just want to be in the moment.

And, incidentally, a photograph is a poor substitute. It can never capture a complete experience – the colour is frequently leached out by bright sunshine, I cannot hear the wind in the trees, or smell the scents of autumn. I cannot feel the nip of the sharp early morning air. The sounds surrounding me would all be lost. The leaves suddenly whirling all around me in the breeze. I would lose the deceptive simplicity and is-ness of all this.

And yet, I enjoy photographs. I use them a lot in my writing. How to square the circle? Must I only take photographs on days I set out to focus on photography? They are good memory joggers. You may not get the sounds or scents (or sharp nips), but a photo may well remind you of them. And they can be things of beauty on their own, of course.

I think I need to find a way of taking photographs without disturbing whatever is my current train of thought at the time. A sort of Zen-like process.

Imbolc

On By Mick CanningIn Imbolc, Spring54 Comments

Yesterday was Imbolc, February 1st. Imbolc is a pagan festival marking the halfway point between the Winter Solstice and Spring Equinox. Honouring the goddess Brigid, goddess of fertility, it celebrates the beginning of Spring.

And so I went looking for signs of Spring. It was a real Spring-like day. Blue skies. Sunshine that felt almost warm. Birds singing. Stuff growing. There was a Red Admiral, but I didn’t get a picture. I did get a few pictures of other stuff, though.

Four years ago it was also a lovely day – we were walking on the South Downs – perhaps Imbolc is often nice. I’d look it up if I could, but it seems very difficult to find detailed weather records on the internet; I’ve been looking as I’d like to check a few things. Anyone know of any sites?

Sunny and Spring-like.

Primroses are out.

There were some wild daffodils coming up in the woods. Not in flower yet, but it shouldn’t be long.

The cultivated varieties are already in flower.

As are the Camelias.

And the snowdrops are still around, although past their best.

At ten past four, the sun was still out. This might not sound a big deal, but after the real Winter months it feels like a definite progression. Later, because of the clear sky, predictably it quickly became much colder.

We’re not quite there yet.

New ‘zine – Issue 1

On By Mick CanningIn Echoes and Imaginings, Folk traditions, psychogeography, Zines58 Comments

I’ve completed my first new year’s project.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to present Echoes and Imaginings, issue one.

Quite pleased with the title, actually. My aim is to produce at least four issues, although whether I do or not depends largely on how quickly I can put each issue together. I want them to roughly reflect the seasons of the year, without being too dogmatic about it. There is a slant towards folklore, psychogeography and a bit of speculation, as well as photography and poetry. Future issues may well have some of my artwork included.

I’m already writing articles for issue 2…

In this issue you can find Hoodening, Wassailing, a meditation on time, photographs, poetry, and more. There are lots of trees. Some of the articles have appeared here as posts, although there is some re-writing, but most of the poetry and the pictures are new. It is available through my Etsy shop, or just message me directly (I use PayPal).

Personally, I reckon it’s a thing of beauty.

And as well as these four issues, I have ideas for some others, which I expect to bring out at random times.

At the moment, I feel this is the way for me to go. I don’t see myself finishing a novel any time soon, although I do have an almost finished one sitting there. I don’t currently feel inclined to get it published, though. And equally, I don’t feel inclined to go through all the hassle of submitting poems or short stories to different publications or into competitions.

And on another note, you have probably seen on other blogs the ongoing issues of pirated e-books (especially on Amazon, I hear). I think we have AI to thank for a lot of this, and it seems so many authors are having their books ripped or plagiarised it’s becoming ridiculous. For that reason, I have simply decided my books will no longer be available as e-books, and have deleted them.

New Year New You Meh

On By Mick CanningIn books, New Year, reading, resolutions42 Comments

Anyone still following their New Year’s resolutions? Good on you. As a rule I don’t make them, but this year I have drawn up a bit of a list. Partly, this is a coincidence. I’m on Goodreads, and they encourage you to set a reading target for the year, which I usually do as I think it provides that little extra spur to get on with it when I don’t feel much like reading.

When I’m feeling a bit meh, for example.

But the timing of the Goodreads prompt, being at the start of the year, not unnaturally suggested I might compile a little list of targets in other areas, which I did, but which I’m not going to be foolish enough to share here. Anyway, those few of you who follow me on Goodreads might notice that the couple of books I’ve been reading so far this year are books I’ve read before. And that’s because one of the resolutions I’ve made is that I shall re-read lots of books this year that I have read and enjoyed in the past. Favourites of mine. Books that give me real pleasure to read. In fact, the TBR pile beside my bed is currently eight books, not including the one I’m reading, six of which I’ve read before.

Re-reading a book is always a good idea anyway, as one inevitably notices things one didn’t notice the first time around. But my motive is pleasure, pure and simple. I shall still read some new books this year, but I shall focus strongly on those I’ve read before that I love. We’re often told, in one way or another, that we ‘should’ read this or that book, or that it is an ‘essential’ read (I know I’ve been guilty of it myself in the past, and will no doubt do it again). Well, this year, those folk can shove off. And take their ‘essential’ reads with them.

New Year’s Resolution lists seem to be routinely full of ways to ‘improve’ the maker of the list – make them fitter, get a better job, etc etc – rather than simply to bring pleasure. And although that’s perfectly laudable, it’s important not to forget pleasure for its own sake. It’ll help us get through the year.

A Jolly Wassail and the Howlers (and not forgetting the Hoodeners!)

On By Mick CanningIn animal guising, culture, customs, Folk traditions, folklore, history, Hooden Horse, Hoodening, kent, Wassailing34 Comments

Yesterday, we went Wassailing.

If you care to Google (other search engines are available) Wassailing, you will learn it traditionally takes place on the Twelfth Night (after Christmas), i.e. 5th January, and is a British custom. You will also discover that wassailing involves groups (traditionally men) visiting apple orchards, usually after dark, and to encourage the trees to be especially fruitful the following year songs are sung, trees might be beaten with sticks to wake them up, and offerings of bread soaked cider left in the branches of certain trees. Perhaps one particular tree would be selected to represent the whole orchard.

A Dictionary of the Sussex Dialect published in 1875 has something to say on the subject. It defines howlers as ‘boys who in former times went round wassailing the orchards. A custom now nearly obsolete. The custom of wassailing used to be observed on the eve of the Epiphany, when the howlers went to the orchards, and there encircling one of the best bearing trees, drank the following toast,-

‘Here’s a health to thee, old apple tree,

May’st thou bud, may’st thou blow,

May’st thou bear apples enow!

Hats full! Caps full!

Bushel, bushel, sacks full!

And my pockets full, too! Huzza!

The wassailers derived their name from the Anglo-Saxon salutation on pledging one to drink, which was waes hael, be of health; to which the person pledged replied drinc hael, I drink your health.‘

Epiphany occurs usually on 6th January, or on the first Sunday falling between 2nd and 8th January, which tends to tie in roughly with Twelfth Night, at least as far as 6th January goes.

Groups of wassailers might also take the opportunity to go from door to door singing wassailing songs (like the one above and plentiful variations) to earn a penny or two. It is possible that the tradition of Christmas carolling derived from this. A wassail bowl was often also taken around, which would hold spicy mulled cider. This might perhaps also be offered at houses visited, although my copy of the 1849 Chambers Dictionary suggests a wassail bowl was used to drink in the New Year and does not mention anything about wassailing itself. I suppose this might represent a sort of official disapproval of the tradition. But it does confirm that drinking was involved, and I’ve no doubt the revellers enjoyed their share.

Howlers would appear to be a Sussex tradition, the name deriving from the boys ‘howling’ the orchard.

Away from the south of England, wassailing appears to have been more widespread, in the sense that not just apple orchards, but also bees might be wassailed, to encourage them to be productive, and it might also happen at other times of the year.

It being 6th January, we took a bus and a couple of trains and made our way to the village of Worth, just outside Sandwich, in East Kent, to not only join in with wassailing apple orchards but also watch some Hooden Horse antics. Hooden Horses you shriek in confusion? Look no further than this post, which even explains why we chose to go to East Kent.

Anyway, ale was drunk in the pub where we began the afternoon, with the Hooden Horse company performing their version of the traditional play – this particular company have recently revived the custom in this area – before we set off (horse and all) to wassail a nearby orchard on our way into Sandwich. In this case, the wassailing consisted of making plenty of noise as we passed the orchard – many a shout of waes hael and drinc hael, ringing of hand bells, and clashing of sticks. Personally, I am convinced there will be a bountiful harvest there next autumn. Then on to Sandwich for further Hooden Horse Hi-jinks (and further ale) in a welcoming taproom, before we made our way back home (since we had quite a long journey), although hardier folk than us went on for further malarky elsewhere in town.

Warning! Do not let this ‘doctor’ anywhere near your loved ones!

Gathering in the pub car park before the Wassailing walk

In the taproom, Sandwich

  • several of these photos courtesy of Sabina

We’ll just have to look out for another malarky opportunity soon, I guess.

Wednesday December 27th

On By Mick CanningIn environment, natural world, seasons, walking, wildlife43 Comments

It is windy this morning and the forecast is for rain and high winds later in the day. Consequently, I go out for a walk straight after breakfast, heading for the woods beside the common where I know I will be sheltered from the worst of it, should the winds get up soon. Above, the clouds are thick and dark and what light does make it through the mirk is thin and silvery, glittering coldly on leaves and puddles, the latter wrinkled with tiny wavelets scurrying in bursts across their surfaces.

A couple of rooks are calling irritably overhead, buffeted by the breeze, as I reach the edge of the wood. A few paces in, I pass along the edge of a shallow, long-disused sandstone quarry, its banks perforated with badger holes, and with other entrances deeper into the woods. The whole of the sett appears to occupy upwards of a fifth of an acre, although there may well be entrances I have not yet found.

Moving on, I find I am walking to the rhythm of a tune in my head, something that happens to me frequently. This time, it is a track from an album by Stick in the Wheel, a kind of punk-folk group, the track being the Abbots Bromley Horn Dance. Stick in the Wheel are a group I have only recently discovered, and the only album I have of theirs (so far!) gets played rather a lot. This particular tune has a very pronounced beat and I wonder, as I often do, whether the tune has come into my head as the beat matches my pace, or whether I have unconsciously altered my pace to fit the tune.

I also decide it doesn’t matter which it is.

It is still early enough in the day for there to be very few other people about. In about an hour’s time the air will be filled with barking and shouting as the regular dog walkers invade, but for now I have the place almost to myself.

I have just begun to re-read Robert MacFarlane’s The Old Ways, and in this he tells us that at the time of writing (2012) he reckoned he had walked perhaps 7,000 or 8,000 miles along footpaths in his lifetime. Does this mean each mile is a unique mile, in that he means he has walked this distance all along different routes, or does it include the day to day walks along local routes, routes such as the one I repeat day after day? He doesn’t make that clear, and I would guess it includes all repetitions. He then goes on to quote De Quincy saying that Wordsworth walked a total of 175,000 – 180,000 miles in his lifetime (although how did he know?), which would clearly include his repeated local walks, if true. I wonder how many I have done and make a vague stab at guessing a figure. At various times I have worked out I tend to walk an average of 20 miles a week, allowing for good and bad periods of walking, of which probably one half would be on footpaths. There were times when I did much less, and times when I did much more, but it seems a reasonable estimate. That would give me a figure of between 25,000 and 27,000 miles in my adult life so far, which is probably wildly out but is quite similar to Robert Macfarlane’s.

I’ve no idea what to conclude from that.

But I know I would probably walk quite a bit further if I didn’t tend to stop so frequently just to stand and stare at my surroundings. I do it often enough to sometimes irritate those I walk with, although they’re usually kind enough to say nothing about it. But there are also those who just get their heads down and walk, walk, walk, seemingly on some mission to cover as many miles as possible in the shortest possible time, barely able to glance around them as they go. What is that about, unless it’s some sort of charity event and they’re raising money by the mile? Where is the pleasure?

The Welsh poet W H Davies wrote ‘What is this life if, full of care, we have no time to stand and stare?’

What indeed?

I’ve been doing it quite a lot again this morning. It seems so important. Surely everyone must do it to a degree?