Gym shoes

The girl was wearing a pair of classic black and white basketball boots. The wearing of such incurred the displeasure of the deputy principal and she was required to phone home from the school office and ask that her mother bring to the school a pair of shoes approved for use with the school uniform.

Reflecting on memories of fifty years ago, I thought I should have liked such a pair of basketball boots. Perhaps they would not have evoked such painful recollections as the black plimsolls that I had.

There were people in the school who had lace-up versions of such shoes, but for most of us the elasticated version was used for those activities which filled me with a sense of dread and foreboding. Black fabric and rubber soles, they provided little support for the feet of someone who always walked awkwardly.

Our plimsolls were worn for physical activities, gymnastics, basketball, running; things that were approached with delight by some people, but not those of us who had no aptitude for anything that demanded speed or agility.

The problem with plimsolls was that it was not even possible to drag out the time putting them on, to pull on each took no more than a couple of seconds, and then we were expected to gather around the teacher to listen with enthusiasm to the instructions that the teacher would give.

The capacity of a pair of canvas shoes to cause a feeling of unease, fifty after such footwear was last worn, suggests that physical education really did instill a feeling of fear into the hearts of many of us.

The worst part of PE was rarely the game itself. There was nothing inherently wrong with basketball in the school gym, or athletics on the field, or our attempts at gymnastic manouvres, the pain came with the attitude of the teachers. Those of us not good at the prescribed activities were subject to belittling and sometimes even insults.

The worst treatment ever (albeit we were wearing football boots that day) came from a teacher who decided to try to teach first form boys the rudiments of rugby, despite the fact that we did not attend a rugby-playing school. One boy displayed a lack of skill in his attempt at kicking a rugby ball, something he had probably never done before in his life, when the teacher ran up from behind the boy and kicked him in the buttocks with such force that the boy was sent stumbling forward.

When those charged with caring for the health of the nation complain about the high incidence of obesity among middle aged Englishmen, they might ask themselves why there is an aversion to physical activity.

If a pair of plimsolls can bring painful memories from the early-1970s for me, then how many more people had similar experiences?

 

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Shotgun security

A colleague has a Seventeenth Century flintlock musket standing in the corner of his classroom. In need of restoration, we have been trying to discover something of its history. It has more the appearance of a piece of art than of a lethal weapon. On his farm at home, locked securely away, he says he has a modern shotgun with which to defend livestock.

When I was a child, shotguns were an everyday sight.

At our family home farm at Pibsbury, between Long Sutton and Langport, there is a passageway that runs between the farmhouse and the dairy. It was a repository for miscellaneous ‘useful’ items placed there by my grandfather, it was the place where the shotgun was to be found. A conventional 12-bore in calibre, its double-barrels were a polished, dull black and the wooden stock was a rich chestnut colour. The gun had a frightening fascination for a small boy, it meant both danger and safety.

There were guns in the locality that were used for game, the shooting of rabbits, or pigeons, or pheasants. Occasionally, there would be clay pigeon or skeet shooting, but on most farms the gun was a utilitarian piece of equipment. Perhaps cartridges were expensive, perhaps there was not much time to put the guns to other uses, perhaps there was not a great inclination to do so, but the shotgun would only have been lifted against foxes and rats.

Words of warning regarding the shotgun brought a hesitation about approaching it, and certainly there would have been no thought of ever touching it, even though to have picked it up would have brought no danger, live cartridges were stored beyond the reach of inquisitive hands. Dead cartridges might sometimes have been found when walking the fields after someone had crossed in pursuit of game. Orange or blue, brass caps with the smell of cordite, there was a strange sense of wonder in handling a cartridge, to imagine that something so inconsequential could have such a devastating impact.

Never was there ever a suggestion that a gun might be used to defend oneself against a threat from another person, although there must always have been an awareness of that possibility; the Western films that occupied much of the air time in the 1960s frequently depicted cowboys firing shotguns. Yet the shotgun always brought a sense of security, perhaps it derived from those childhood memories.

It is hard to imagine a Seventeenth Century flintlock evoking similar feelings, by the time it was loaded the fox would have killed half of the henhouse.

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Langport Lollardy

Reading of John Dyer, the rector of High Ham from 1459-1499 who was married with two sons and whose works were cited in support of Henry VIII’s break from Rome recalled that the area had been known for ‘Lollardy’ for some decades before.

Lollardy was a proto-Protestant movement. Its beliefs were defined by Foxe as opposition to pilgrimages and saint worship (activities from which the Catholic Church derived considerable income); denial of the doctrine of transubstantiation, which was the central Catholic belief about the Holy Communion, and a demand for English translation of the Scriptures.

Margaret Deanesly’s 1920 work on the Lollard Bible notes that:

In Somersetshire the record of Lollardy was continuous, though not striking, throughout the century, and seems to have originated with Purvey’s preaching in the suburbs of Bristol about 1387; a Bristol burgess also was in 1404 one of the few known possessors of an English Bible at the date.

No Somersetshire Lollards were burned, but several abjured.

In 1413 John Devenish was accused of Lollardy, and of having placed ‘a scandalous book of the Lollards’ in a vicar’s stall. Thomas Smith of Bristol was accused in 1424, and in 1429 William Curayn, of Bristol, was cited for heresy for the fifth time, and, imprisoned by the bishop, he confessed that he had held that ‘every priest was bound to preach the Word of God openly, and that Oldcastle and Wycliffe were holy martyrs’.

In 1449 John Young, an old and infirm chaplain of S. Cross, abjured similar errors, and agreed to surrender all his heretical books.

In 1455 bishop Beckington complained to the duke of Somerset that the duke’s tenants at Langport neither ‘dreaded God nor lived by Holy Church’; they ministered the sacraments and buried the dead themselves, and even alleged the duke’s support for so doing, though the bishop refused to believe that this could be true. In 1459 Thomas Cole, a baker, abjured, and in 1475 there were still many heretics in the diocese.

It might be assumed that John Dyer, vicar of High Ham, advocate of married priests, was among those who might have been regarded as ‘heretics’.

There is a sense of satisfaction that the people of the communities around High Ham were people who dissented from the doctrines and the authority of the church. In that early Protestantism with its insistence on a Bible in the vernacular and an individual faith, there are roots of much that is now assumed in Western democracy, including individual conscience and freedom of religious practice.

Being something of a Lollard in my inclinations, I am glad that there is no danger of having to abjure.

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Protestant ideas in Fifteenth Century High Ham!

Reading the details of the life and the will of John Dyer, who was Rector of High Ham at the end of the Fifteenth Century, there seemed nothing remarkable in the details.

Dyer graduated from Oxford University with a Bachelor of Arts degree on 29th November, 1456 and he was instituted as rector of the parish on 12th June, 1459, an incumbency where he was to spend forty years.

Dyer died on 20th September 1499, He had written his will on 16th September, four days prior to his death. The will was proved on 16th September 1499.

The will gives the following instructions:

To be buried in the Chancel of the Church of High Ham.

Every son, of my sons, John and Richard. John Dyer, Vicar of Long Sutton. Richard Dyer, son of John Dyer, my brother, all my lands and tenements in the town of Wincanton.

Residue to John Dyer, my brother, and Richard Dyer, his son — they to be executors.

Supervisor, Thomas Weston.

Witnesses, John Dyer, Vicar of Long Sutton, William Badcock, Chaplain, my Curate, Thomas Walton, and others.

The chronicler notes that, ‘In the floor of the Chancel of High Ham is a brass to the memory of the Reverend John Dyer, Rector, who died 20 September, 1499. He rebuilt at his own expense the Chancel of the Church of High Ham in 1479’.

At High Ham Primary School, we would have learned those dates, being told that the rood screen between the chancel and the nave dated from 1476. I remember a sense of pride that a carved wooden screen in our very ordinary church dated from before the time that Columbus sailed to the New World.

Too often now, I fail to connect the dots and it was only last week, when I read that Henry VIII had quoted from a pamphlet written by Dyer that argued that clergy should be permitted to marry, that the thought occurred.  Dyer was rector of High Ham and was married with sons to whom he bequeathed part of his estate. Not only was John Dyer married, but his brother, who bore the same name, who was vicar of Long Sutton, was also married.

It was the Fifteenth Century, but clearly the ideas that were to take hold across much of Europe during the time of Martin Luther, were already established in our part of Somerset. Perhaps the custom was widespread, perhaps there were married clergy in many parts of the country, but to a small schoolboy in the 1960s, it would have been exciting to have thought that the Reverend John Dyer was a pioneer.

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Settling disputes in the parish

Adrian Schaell’s 1598 account of High Ham parish includes his consideration of a disagreement with certain people in Low Ham and his account of the end of the Midsummer celebrations at Bere.

Now remaineth for mee to speake somewhat of the chapple at Neitherham which certaine vaine old woman addicted to old men’s fables, do dreame to be more auncient than the churche of Higham, and foolishly babble to have bin in old tyme the cheife temple and receptacle of the whole parishe, for the unfoldinge of which doubt to him that desireth to knowe the trueth you must understande that the narrownes of that obscure place was not sufficient to receive the fourth part of the parishioners of Higham, amountinge to above the number of 800 persons with children and servaunts. Add also that the inhabitauntes of Beare and Hendley at two miles from the same chapple, wherns the churche of Higham beinge placed in the middest of the parishe is more fytt to bee come unto by all the
parishioners on everye syde, and there (the church beinge placed on the toppe of an hill) the cleare firmament (in chiefe time of the yeare) through the holesomeness of pure ayre and pleasant prospect on everye side, it doth merveylously delight the comers thereunto.

The rubble also or rubbish of the walls with the oken timber and other carpentrie worke of the parish house comonly called the Churchhouse sumtuously builded after the old fashion before the pullinge downe thereof and erecting of the new schole, do pretend great antiquity : yea, and also the Churchyard so large, compassed aboute with tall and goolly elms, doth prove some hundreth of yeares since the plantinge thereof.

The same churchyarde on the south side therof is repaired and maintained by none but the inhabitaunts of Neitherham. What shall [I speake of the goodly marble and stone sepulchres and monuments of the dead, as well to be seene in the church as churchyard of such as have bin buried there for almost an hundreth yeares agoe, especially of the Waltons, notwithstanding their dwellinge a longe time from ther first cominge hath been in the old house called Lowhame Court.

To be short, that all the infantes ar to be christened at Higham, the dead of the parish to be buried and matrimonie to be celebrated onely at higham and noe where else lawfully and accordinge to the forme of lawe, is confirmed by the comon consent of all, and the chapple of lowham beinge compassed with no churchyard, narrow obscure and renowned with no auncient monumentes, was in old time (accordinge to the manner of noble men) erected that the gent, called Bartlett in Bursi’s’ courte, sometime lyvinge at lowham might when they would, alone by themselves without the presence of the villagers, be present at masse, and also lest in the cold of winter foul wether and heate of sommer, their nicencs (through tendernes, lyinge in bedd) should take a journey so farr as unto the church of higham, or other wise that in the time of plague for feare of infection they might not come abroade, but might more safely be separate from others.

Hence came it perhaps that such as were of the same kindred and stocke were buried in the same chapple which thinge at this day in diverse places of this realme amongst the nobler sort is every where seene to be used.

Neither was there any perpetuall vicar or curate established there, seeinge the person at the death of one was not bound to appoint another, and if any foolish and beggerly preist or steward to the gent of Lowham Court did (as often they were wont) sacrifice or say praiers, hee was not hyred or susteined by any stipend from the neighbours but onely received lowly from the person fyve markes yearly ; and when there was no preist there (which thing hath oftentime come to passe in my time) the stipend hath ceased to be paid, neither is the person bound to pay it, the worke man ceasinge the wages also ceascth.

I have handled the matter of Neitherham chapple att large even to the wearinge of the reader to the intent that trueth might appeare and that (fables being confuted) yt might have his right.

Neither shall it be impertinent to say somewhat of a certaine obscure chapple at Beare, destroyed within these fifty yeares, which chapple as I thinke (being moved by this conjecture) was dedicated to Jhon Baptist, because, never but uppon the eveninge of the nativitye of Jhon, the parson of Pitney was wont to mumble over eveninge prayers, that on the night after they mighte play at wrestlinge in Sedgmoore, and the holy day followinge he was wont solemly to celebrate masse before many youthe at that time there assembled in great multitudes that after dynner they might try masteries in runninge for ramme appointed for the course, which whoso excellinge others by runninge could take, compted it his owne, as the reward and recompense of his obteined victory.

Neither did the parson of Pittney loose all these toyes, for every yeare  unto this day (by what reason or sufferaunce it appearcth not) he receiveth certaine tithes to the valew of five poundes and damage of my parsonage, the old custome beinge now utterly abolished.

One William Balch, a gent (by whose appointment I know not) pulled downe the same chapple and with the rubble stones and timber thereof builded to himselfe a faire howse, wherein his sonne of the same name, William, dwelleth.

These things by the way thus written and rehearsed of mee, gentle reader, after a plainc manner, accept I pray thee favorably and in good parte, and correct what ix a misse, iff any thinge hereafter (worth the markinge) come to my knowledge, I promise thee assuredly that in an appendix I will committ them to writtinge.

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