Witchfield Gore

I have always been fascinated by folklore, superstition, ghost stories and all that kind of hocus-pocus. Growing up on a new housing estate in suburban Birmingham is perhaps not the most obvious place to have become acquainted with the old ways but they made their presence known from time to time. My Dad would never allow new shoes to be put on the table and a bird in the house was very bad news indeed.  Whilst working in a fast food joint in Sparkhill one Saturday afternoon, a woman ordered some southern fried chicken and read my palm. My brother’s rogue of a mate swore he saw an elderly neighbour doing the gardening a couple of weeks after she’d died and apparently there was a horse buried under a small hillock in our local park. I must google that one actually.

I’m well aware that such matters are a bit Marmite (and it just so happens that I know of an urban myth about that particular food stuff and Dartmoor Prison) and so I shall try and keep this kind of thing to my other blog here, which I write with my bad friend Betsy. However, as it’s Halloween and fast approaching the witching hour, indulge me briefly to mention a few local stories that I’m fascinated by, and which Mavis and Betsy may well be exploring further.

First up, a few tales of fangtastic beasts and where to find them (although given that seeing them is said to bring misfortune, I’d advise you not to go looking). The Black Dog of Brereton roams the lanes of, well, Brereton, terrifying all those who encounter it before vanishing into thin air. Demon doggos have also been witnessed locally by young Ivan Vinnel on Woodhouses Road in Burntwood in the 1930s and, more recently, by a number of motorists on the M6 toll road who reported a wolf-like creature bounding around Junction 10A. The Black Dogs of Brereton and Burntwood and the M6 Toll road. 666/10 would not pet.

Another ghost dog in Brereton. The 18thc Talbot Inn, now closed.

A google ghost hunt has thrown up Lichfield district’s very own phantom flan flinger. In January 1979, ATV Today visited The Burntwood Patisserie to interview the bakery director Steve Davies and employee Dawn Evans after paranormal activity in the building put the night shift on hold. Sadly, the video clip is not yet available on line through the MACE archive.  Elsewhere in the ATV archive is footage from May 1965, when a camera crew visited Dam Street’s ‘Little Gallery’, an antique shop run by Jack Whitney, to try and capture evidence of a monk said to haunt the 500 year old building. What are these two buildings now?

Dam St, Lichfield

It’s a mystery at one of my own previous haunts that’s really intrigued me however. Back in the summer, I wrote about the lost chapel at Longdon . It had been built in the late 17th century and was demolished in the 1960s to make way for the A51 flyover. In June 1969, the Birmingham Post reported that a gravestone with the inscription ‘William Edwards. Died 6 August 1775 aged 67. Clerk to this chapel for 19 years’ had appeared alongside the site where the congregational chapel once stood, three years after it had been torn down. Everyone involved from the clergy to the constructors to the council denied any knowledge of where it came from, who put it there and why. Looking back at JW Jackson’s description of the site when he explored it in 1876, there was a small graveyard. So why was this the only memorial from it to have been replaced at the site? And another fifty years on, is it still there?


Real Monsters, Gruesome Critters, and Beasts from the Darkside by Brad Steiger

The Weiser Field Guide to Cryptozoology by Deena West Budd


Birmingham Post Archive

Dead End Streets

I have been dead certain for sometime that there would once have been corpse roads leading to Lichfield, bringing bodies from the surrounding hamlets and villages to be buried in the consecrated ground of their mother church.

My Scooby sense about their existence eventually translated into something a little more tangible when I found the following reference in the 1819 book,  ‘A Short Account of the City and Close of Lichfield’ by Thomas George Lomax, William Newling:

‘By the side of the chapel is Dove house lane once the burial road from the village of Wall now disused’.

Further evidence can be found in the rolls of St George’s Court held on 28th April 1656, which record how Michael Salt was fined 6D for “not making a stile into Dovehouse Field from the Clay Pitts, this being a church way”.

Dovehouse Fields sign

Given that Wall was part of St Michael’s parish, this surely must have been the mother church and the final destination. As to the exact course the corpse road took, I suspect the answers lie buried in old place names. Look out for references to anything church, burial, coffin or corpse related on old maps and documents.

Claypit Lane sign

Whilst you’re at it, give some thought to Shenstone too, where in October 1817 the Staffordshire Advertiser carried the following description:

…a certain road, heretofore used as a burial road, beginning at the north-westward end of a Road called the Walk, belonging to Edward Grove Esq, and extending in a north-westwardly direction over an ancient inclosure called Lower Park Field, belonging to Ann Adams, over an ancient Inclosure called New Piece, belonging to said Edward Grove, over an ancient inclosure called Over Park Field, over an ancient inclosure called Upper Park Field, and over an ancient inclosure called Near Park Field, belonging to Ann Adams, to the Birmingham and Lichfield turnpike road, then crossing the said road in a south-westwardly direction to an ancient inclosure called Bull’s Head Piece, then turning in a westwardly direction over the said Bull’s Head Piece and another another ancient inclosure called Church Piece, belonging to Henry Case, Esq.

Elsewhere in the country, numerous stories and superstitions have materialised around these paths where the dead were toted. The general flavour of the folklore associated with these roads involves rituals designed to ensure the spirit of the dead could not escape en-route nor return home. The corpse would be carried feet first and often over water as apparently ghosts can’t cross running water (although I have heard of a spectral passenger hitching a lift in a taxi as it drove over the causeway at Blithbury Reservoir). Despite these rites of passage, there are stories of the supernatural associated with burial routes –  phantom funeral processions, corpse candles and headless black dogs are just some of the shady characters to be wary of when travelling the same way as the dead did. If only we knew exactly which way that was….

wall green lane

Wall is surrounded by these ancient green ways. Could one of them have been part of the old burial road?


Little Green Chapel

Following on from the last post about the Minors School, it seems that its founder was no stranger to controversy either. Here’s the original extract from the Victoria County History someone sent to me which unexpectedly ignited my interest in Presbyterian places of worship with mention of a meeting house in the city being burned down during riots in 1715 and a chapel at Longdon Green.

The Presbyterians remained powerful in the city after the Restoration. Bishop Hacket complained that ‘the Presbyterians of the city do what they list, come not to the holy communion, baptize in hugger-mugger, are presented for their faults but no order taken with them’, and Dean Wood allotted prominent seats in the cathedral to Thomas Minors and his brother-in-law William Jesson. Presbyterian influence extended in 1667 to the election as M.P. of Richard Dyott, who Hacket believed was completely under their control.  In July 1669 Minors and Jesson were summoned before the Privy Council for holding a conventicle in Minors’s house. They moved the meeting to a farmhouse at Elmhurst, where a conventicle later the same month lasted most of the day. According to Hacket it was attended by some 80 people, of whom the ringleader was a Lichfield carrier named James Rixam (or Rixom), a man ‘no way fit for that trust, being a transcendent schismatic’. Minors and Jesson subsequently appeared before the Council but were discharged.


Five houses in Lichfield were licensed for Presbyterian worship in 1672; they included Minors’s house and that of John Barker, another mercer who was later one of the trustees of the English school in Bore Street established under Minors’s will. By 1695 a Presbyterian minister, Robert Travers, was working in the area, with a chapel at Longdon Green. He baptized at Lichfield in 1700, and there was a meeting house in the city by 1707.  It was burnt down during riots in 1715 but had been rebuilt by 1718.  In 1720 Travers was living in the house of Elizabeth Jesson, possibly in Saddler Street. In 1738 his own house in Lichfield was licensed for worship. He may still have been active in 1747, but by April 1748 the congregation was served by Samuel Stubbs.  The Lichfield chapel was closed in 1753,  but the congregation continued to meet at Longdon Green.

I’ve wandered around Longdon a fair few times, and news of a 17th century chapel was new to me . Local historian J W Jackson went for a wander around there in the glorious summer of 1876 and described in his Lichfield Mercury column how he stumbled upon the chapel:

‘On this occasion, we decided on following the Stafford Road, via Lyncroft and taking the lower road to Longdon Green, then turning to the right by Lysways Hall….As we stood feasting our eyes on the beauty around us, our attention was attracted to a solitary building in front of us. At first, we took it to be a cottage but as we got nearer we saw that the windows were much like those of a church, deep and arched, and as we had to pass near it on our way we decided to examine it closer. As we came near it we heard voices singing a hymn and at once concluded it was a small chapel. Crossing over a tiny stream we entered the small graveyard and walked quietly to the open door, when the hymn had ended, we quietly entered and took our seats on the nearest vacant bench and a grey-haired old caretaker handed us books. The singing had not been led by a trained choir and organ but the small congregation sang as if from the heart, and fairly well in tune…At the time we little thought we were in the first Lichfield Congregational Church which like a great wide spreading tree had sent its branches over the district’.

In the glorious summer of 2018, local nosey parker K L Gomez decided on following the road from the Red Lion pub down Lysways Lane, looking for the site of the small chapel. I knew it had been demolished from the description on Pastscape but, as ever, I was curious to see if some trace remained.

It says Chapel House. Please beleaf me.

The name of the nearby house on the opposite side of a tiny stream (the Bilson Brook) confirmed that I was more or less in the right place. The sweet singing of the choir has been replaced by the noise from the road which the chapel was demolished to make way for in 1966 and the holly and the ivy (and hawthorn bushes and nettles) are both so full grown that the public path running alongside is inaccessible. Further exploration to try and find traces of the lost chapel and its graveyard will need to wait until winter when some of the Longdon greenery has died off a bit.

In the meantime, I want to know more about those incendiary events of 1715. Where was the meeting house which was burned down and is its replacement still standing?


Lichfield Mercury Archive
Lichfield: Roman Catholicism and Protestant nonconformity’, in A History of the County of Stafford: Volume 14, Lichfield, ed. M W Greenslade (London, 1990), pp. 155-159. British History Online http://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/staffs/vol14/pp155-159

A Minor Diversion

The Minors School was only supposed to form a minor part of another post I’m writing about a lost chapel in Longdon. However, when I came across a series of letters and articles in local newspapers documenting the attempt of Lichfield City Council to save the 17th century building from destruction and the offer of its Norman oak door to the city’s museum by a bill-posting company, it became a major point of interest. The chapel will have to stay lost for just a little longer…

Someone researching Presbyterians in Lichfield had emailed me with an extract from the Victoria County History asking if I knew anything about any of the buildings mentioned in it. It was the mention of a chapel in Longdon Green which caught my attention but the only one I really knew anything about was the school which once stood at the corner of Bore Street and St John Street and was built in 1670 by Presbyterian mercer Thomas Minors for 30 poor boys in the city to be taught, without charge, until they were able to read chapters in the Bible.  What I didn’t know anything about was the controversy it caused at the start of the 20th century.

Lichfield - Minors' School: sepia drawing

Lichfield – Minors’ School: sepia drawingView Full Resource on Staffordshire Past Track



At a Lichfield City Council meeting in March 1902, the Streets and Highways committee recommended that the Council should pull down Minors House (an alternative name for the school building), take what land was required to widen St John Street and sell the remainder. The property, consisting of Minors House, a warehouse, and shop plus three adjoining cottages, had been purchased by the Council in April 1900 for the sum of £1,680 from the representatives of Mrs Sarah Cooper (deceased) with a view to widening the corner of Bore Street. However, only the schoolroom end of the building was demolished and later that year, councillors discussed what should be done with the remainder. Cllr Raby was keen to ensure that the property was sold under the most advantageous terms so that the Council could recoup the cost of the road improvement to as great an extent as possible. Cllr Wood asked about the strip of land where the schoolroom had once stood, as in a previous meeting it had been decided that it should not be included in the sale and Cllr Andrews thought it unwise to offer the property without the land. Cllr Raby questioned whether one of the most valuable business corners of the City should be turned into a shrubbery or flower garden or some other unprofitable experiment as the improvement had been carried out at great expense to ratepayers and it would be wise to seek to make the best of the property. He also said that it was hardly to be expected that in the future the Minors School, which had been half pulled down, could be retained in its present ugly and unsightly state and the purchaser of the property ought to have sufficient space allowed him and a free hand to erect something which would be an ornament to the city.

I think at some point over the next twelve years, Cllr Raby must have joined the National Trust or something because at a council meeting in May 1914 he protested against plans to transform the building into a modern business premises despite it having been passed by the Streets and Highways Committee. Cllr Raby argued that as this was an exceptional case, it should therefore be be dealt with by the council in an exceptional manner. The Ancient Monuments Consolidation and Amendment Act had been introduced the previous year and Cllr Raby believed that given that Minors House was a historic building of unique interest to the citizens of Lichfield, it should be dealt with under the new act. He described the grounds upon which he wished to place the exceptional resolution as follows:

I have seen the plans submitted by the present owner of this property and I find that, broadly, they mean the complete transformation of this old building – the demolition of many of the rooms, and the utter desecration of the facade of the building and the placing of a tawdry shop front in its stead.

Cllr Raby urged his peers to protest against ‘wanton vandalism of this kind’ but not all those present were convinced. Cllr J.R. Deacon queried that given the building had been the property of the council who had sold it, it ‘could not have been thought of very great value, or it would not have been disposed of’. The Town Clerk urged caution, stating he was not against Cllr Raby’s resolution but that he did not think any good would come of it. In his opinion, the time to raise the question of the preservation of the building was at the when the property was sold, and given that the plans submitted by the new owner complied with the bye-laws, the Council were bound to pass them. Cllr Jones was also sceptical and commented that he believed the building had been spoiled when the schoolroom was demolished years ago and considered it too late to be talking about preserving an ancient fabric now. Alderman Andrews was keen to ensure that the new owner of the building, a clothier called Mr F M Tayler, was treated fairly. Despite these concerns, the amendment was carried with four members voting against.

In the months that followed, a gentleman, whose name isn’t given in the press but might well rhyme with ‘maybe’, offered to buy the building from Mr Tayler along with the adjacent strip of land where the demolished schoolroom had stood, and was now owned by the Lichfield and Rugeley Billposting Co who had erected a hoarding on it. When negotiations failed, the correspondence between the three parties was published in both the Lichfield Mercury and the Staffordshire Advertiser, along with letters of support for the preservation of the building from a representative from the Society of Antiquaries and one of Thomas Minors’ descendants. In the face of public criticism, Mr Tayler, wrote to the Lichfield Mercury asking for a right to reply, and they obliged by publishing the letter which he had sent to the Town Clerk which sheds light on his reasons not for selling whilst also throwing shade at the council:

In answer to your enquiry re Am I willing to place a purchase price on Minors’ House?, I regret that under the circumstances I cannot, as the lease of tenancy of my present business is drawing to a close. Having purchased Minors’ House with the definite purpose of converting the same into business premises for my own use, I cannot in justice to myself and my family, consent to sell. I certainly thought that your Council placed no historic value on this property, for did they not themselves destroy that portion of the said building which was in reality the key for which it was originally built, and after, placed the remainder upon the market without any restrictions, thus closing its historical career?

Fast forward to November 1954. F M Tayler is now an Alderman on whom the Freedom of the City is about to be conferred and a Lichfield Mercury column called ‘Round and About’ looks back to the controversy surrounding Minors House. Apparently, hanging on the wall in Alderman Tayler’s house at the time was a large metal key and wooden bolt which belonged to a Norman oak door from the Minors School, which had been offered to the council for the city’s museum.  Presumably it never ended up there as the columnist was trying to track it down and was told by Mr Birch the solicitor that it might be the one in the old Friary wall on St John Street, which ran around his property, as the council had put it there about 20 years ago and he didn’t know where it came from. With nothing but this circumstantial evidence to go on, the columnist asked if anyone could throw any further light on this. Now, I only have a dark and grainy picture of the door and I am no expert in Norman carpentry but I’m sure that this is not the door we are looking for.

Minors House and the Norman door circa 1914.  Photos from the Lichfield Mercury via the British Newspaper Archive

Not the Norman door

If you know where to look, traces of Minors House can still be found. One of the steeped gables from the original 17th century building remains and I am sure that I have seen masonry from the porch in the museum at St Mary’s. However, door to door enquiries about where that ancient bit of oak ended up are continuing.

Minors House at the present day

Lichfield Mercury Archive
Staffordshire Advertiser Archive
Lichfield: Education’, in A History of the County of Stafford: Volume 14, Lichfield, ed. M W Greenslade (London, 1990), pp. 170-184

This is a Low

‘Hundreds’ were introduced by the Saxons as a form of local government, and so-called because each one was supposedly made up of enough land to sustain one hundred families (although if the land had to sustain families with sons who had an appetite like mine does, they’d have probably been called fifties). Often they took their name from the place where the men (inevitably?) of the hundred met to discuss local matters and to carry out judicial trials for petty crimes. This was often a local landmark, a little away from the madding crowd, where the business of the Hundred Court could be carried on undisturbed each month.

Here in Staffordshire, there are five hundreds (instinctively I want to say were, but they have never actually formally been abolished, although their significance dwindled to nothing during the 19th century). In the south of the county is Seisdon, its name said to derive from OE for ‘the hill of the Saxons‘, with a likely place for the moot suggested as  being Penn Hill.  Up in the north-west is Pirehill, taking its name from a landscape feature two miles south of Stone and 462 ft above sea level. Its name may refer to ME piren ‘to peer’, OE pirige ‘pear tree‘ or Latin ‘pyra’ bonfire/pyre. Totmonslow, up in the Moorlands, is thought to be named after a hill near to the present-day hamlet. The name appears to be made up of ‘tote’ relating to a watchman or look-out combined with the -hlaw suffix meaning a hill or burial mound to translate as something like ‘look-out hill’. Cuttlestone Hundred, with Penkridge at its centre, suggests that the meeting place here was marked by a significant, well, stone although all that now seems to carry the name is a bridge across the River Penk.

River Penk upstream at Cuttlestone Bridge
cc-by-sa/2.0 – © John M – geograph.org.uk/p/1443879

For now though, the locus on which I want to focus is Offlow, the hundred to which Lichfield belonged. In February 1937, Percy Laithwaite wrote an article for the Mercury in which he described how Offlow is marked on an ordnance survey map (and indeed Mark from the much missed Tamworth Time Hikes did a great cartography centred post around this), and is in a field near Swinfen by the old road from Lichfield to Birmingham, on the farm of Mr Percy Stubbs. He goes on to describe how there is little evidence of the hill to be seen but it is just traceable and blames a thousand years of agriculture for lowering the low to almost the same height of the field.

Never one to believe that there is nothing there until I have witnessed nothing with my own eyes, I went to have a look for myself.  I’m going to level with you, a further 81 years of agriculture have completely flattened it and yes, on face value, there is nothing there.

All that now seems to remain of Offlow is its name.  More on where that name may have come from in a moment but first, let’s join in Percy Laithwaite’s excitement at finding out the surrounding field also had a name.

While walking over that field some years ago with Mr Foden of Shenstone, I was considerably astonished, and not a little excited to learn that the field was known to him by the name of ‘Hundred Hill Field’. This is a most astonishing survival. Here is a name which has been preserved for possibly twelve centuries with its original form and meaning, and it still tells us that at this spot was the hill on which the local Hundred Moot held its council meetings

What about the name Offlow then? Well, the story behind that has turned into more of a saga. I was aware that there was a local tradition that it was the burial place of King Offa of Mercia (d. 796 AD) but until about two weeks ago, I was under the impression that this was impossible as King Offa of Mercia was definitely buried in a chapel just outside of Bedford.  The tradition of Offa’s Bedfordshire burial was recorded by Matthew Paris, a monk and chronicler of English history, writing in the 13th century. In it, Paris describes how the chapel where the king was buried was destroyed by the River Ouse and that there were claims from some who bathed in the river that from time to time they had seen Offa’s sarcophagus deep beneath the water, but Paris recorded that, despite it being sought with the greatest of diligence, like a thing of fate, it had never been found. On reflection, the evidence for Bedford is hardly water tight and given that Mathew Paris was responsible, at least in part, for the Lichfield ‘field of the dead’ and the massacre of Christian martyrs legend, I’m not sure he’s the most reliable source….

In his book, ‘In Search of the Dark Ages’, Michael Wood, the King of Anglo-Saxon history, admits that there is uncertainty over where King Offa was buried but that Bedford is the most likely possibility, although, ‘Why Bedford was chosen in a mystery’ (the early Christian kings Wulfhere and Ceolred had been buried at Lichfield itself, and by the 9th century, Repton was the preferred spot).

Whether it’s been lost to the river at Bedford, or to the plough at Swinfen, any physical evidence for Offa’s burial place appears to have disappeared.  I’ll leave whoever writes the Bedford Lore blog to dive into their side of things but I think until something tangible turns up, its a bit of a moot point whether our Offlow has any connection to the Mercian king. In the meantime, I don’t want us lose sight of the fact that what is not in doubt is that it was the place where our local hundred court met and as such, I think we should do it justice by valuing it as an important historical site in its own right, royal burial place or not*

*in my humble opinion, probably not 😉


‘Lichfield: History to c.1500’, in A History of the County of Stafford: Volume 14, Lichfield, ed. M W Greenslade (London, 1990), pp. 4-14. British History Onlinehttp://www.british-history.ac.uk/vch/staffs/vol14/pp4-14 [accessed 23 June 2018].


‘A Survey and Analysis of the Place-Names of Staffordshire’ by David Horovitz

Lichfield Mercury Archive

The English Hundred Names Olof S Anderson


Shed some light?

I have a huge backlog of things to write about including the dead (an old burial road) and circuses (the greatest show-woman) because when I’m looking for one thing, I inevitably seem to find another. Case in point: Last week I went to see if there was anything left of a burial mound known as Offlow and ended up at Shenstone pondering 19th century funerary art.


Offlow: the short answer is there is nothing left.

Shenstone gravestone.jpg

Shenstone: So much going on with this 16 year old woman’s grave. Look at the tiny tools!

To summarise my predicament using a popular meme like the cool kids do:

distracetd meme

I have no idea why my kids are ashamed of me and have me blocked on Twitter.

To show solidarity with my GCSE-sitting son, I have decided to show my working out. Or not working it out, as is probably more accurate as I want to share the things that have me stumped, the dead ends and the ‘not quite sure about this but maybe someone else will be able to help’ type stuff. Whether it’ll lead to quantity over quality or prove that a picture is worth a thousand words remains to be seen.

With that in mind, I have two sheds for your consideration and comments. Firstly, one spotted in a field on a walk around the lanes of Fradley, in the village proper rather than the site of RAF Lichfield. My best guess is that’s where it originated though, with the windows suggestive of an accommodation block. I imagine it was relocated here after the airfield closed in 1958 and re-purposed, although what for I’m not sure.

Fradley shed 2Fradley shed

Tonight’s second shed is this ramshackle affair spotted alongside the disused Walsall to Lichfield railway line in-between Sandfields Pumping Station and Fosseway. My best guess for this one is that it’s a platelayers’ hut where chaps working on the track would store tools and take shelter. As with the rest of the line, it’s slowly being reclaimed by nature which is sadly ironic given that the platelayers were responsible for keeping their stretch in good working order and free of vegetation.

Railway shed 2Railway shed

I’m hoping this new approach will be as effective at reducing the amount of draft blog posts I have as GDPR is at reducing the amount of emails I get. In the meantime however, shedloads of comments on this, or any other subject, are always welcome!


Hot Spring

Apparently, this is likely to be the hottest early May bank holiday on record. It’s so warm that even the birds in my garden were sunbathing yesterday. It’s something they do to keep their feathers healthy  but I think this one might have needed a bit of factor 30, as it seemed a bit red in places.

Sunbathing robin

This beautiful weather coincides with the blooming of the bluebells at my beloved Leomansley Wood. The trees which are now coming into leaf are relatively youthful but the soil here is ancient. Along with lesser celandine and wood anemones, those bluebells signal that this is a plantation on a much older site. In England, the definition of ancient woodland is land that has been continuously wooded since 1600. Given that the name Leomansley pre-dates England and indicates that there were once elm or limetrees here, this site could have been continuously wooded, well, since forever.

Leomansley Wood bluebellsWood anemones

Leomansley Brook trickles around the edge of the wood, into Leomansley Pool in the grounds of what once was Leomansley Mill, and out again through a culvert on Pipe Green.

Mill culvert

Leomansley Mill culvert, Pipe Green

Once upon a time, on hot days like these, the brook would be full of kids paddling as can be seen in this clipping from a 1937 edition of the Lichfield Mercury.

Lichfield Mercury 1937 Pipe Green paddling

I’ve been paddling there with my kids (and without them!) but I’m seemingly in the minority, something I’ve always found strange given the close proximity of a primary school. With the exception of the occasional hot dog, the brook is usually as calm as the millpond it once flowed out of.

Leomansley Brook May 2018

Those still waters run deep however. To the right of the pipe, you can see some of Lichfield’s many springs emerging from the sandstone aquifer far beneath the brook’s bed.


The pipe itself is currently the source of speculation between myself, the fantastic Jane Arnold of the Pipe Green Trust and others. Local historian J W Jackson talks of a pipe which ran from the well at Maple Hayes, which emptied its icy-cold water into the brook. He recalls how people would take bottles to be filled as the water was said to be highly beneficial for bathing eyes. Presumably this is the pipe he mentions but which well at Maple Hayes? Could he have been referring to Unetts Well, said to be the coldest water in Lichfield, where Sir John Floyer built a bath in 1701, later incorporated into Erasmus Darwin’s botanic garden?

I’ve always thought of natural history as having not much to do with local history but I’m beginning to see more and more how the former shapes the latter. Think its time to go and contemplate this a little more in the sunshine over a glass of water to which barley, hops and yeast has been added. It’s what Mr Worthington the brewer who once owned the Maple Hayes estate (which appears to have incorporated most of Leomansley at one point) would have wanted.

Heath Land

I’ve always been a proponent of the idea that you don’t have to travel far from your doorstep to find stories and traces of the past. Even if you live on a spanking brand new estate there will be stories in the soil on which your new build was built. In more recent years, developers seem to have moved away from giving pretty but vacant names to the roads they create and instead are looking to local history and the disappeared landscape for inspiration. Good local examples of this include Fradley where street names honour those killed whilst serving at RAF Lichfield, and the Darwin Park estate in Lichfield where old field names have been preserved in the naming of new roads.

More recently, I’ve decided that when looking for those stories, I should make an extra effort to seek out those which tell us something about the women who lived in this old city and the lives they led.

This story starts at the end, in the graveyard at Christ Church which is currently strewn with primroses. Victorians once planted clumps of these flowers on the graves of children but here and now they cover the final resting places of both young and old.

Primrose graves Christ Church

At the edge of the churchyard is the grave of Edith Mary Heath and the matching monuments of members of her family. Edith died on 27th February 1952 at the age of 78. In her will she left £35, 365, a large proportion of which was left to Christ Church where she had served as vicar’s warden for twenty years, for the creation of ‘The Martin Heath Memorial Fund’. As part of this, a New Year’s gift of £1 was to be paid to 12 deserving poor persons (six men and six women) aged 60 and over in the parish.

Edith Mary Heath graveHeath graves

In 1964, the fund was use to build ‘Martin Heath Hall’. It might surprise those coming to the hall to vote or to Brownies or to yoga classes, that it’s not named after a man called ‘Martin Heath’ but a local woman’s maiden and married names.

Martin heath HallMartin Heath Hall 2

Edith lived at Angorfa, a house built on the Walsall Rd in the early 20th century and demolished in the 1960s, with flats and houses were built on the site. I had assumed for years that apart from the name ‘Angorfa Close’ (well done 1960s developers!), no trace of the original house remained. However, as I found out in a booklet produced by Richard Paulson for an open gardens and local history event in Leomansley back in 2015, two gate posts from Angorfa survived and can be seen from Christchurch Lane. Leomansley is a lovely place to live apart from the local weirdo who takes photos of her neighbours’ garages.

Angorfa CloseAngorfa gateposts

Edith’s father George Martin had lived at Sandyway on the Walsall Rd and he was a benefactor of the Lichfield Victoria Nursing Home which had opened at 15 Sandford Street in 1899.

sandyway farm

Remains of Sandyway Farm, Walsall Rd 2013. Now demolished and houses built on site.

On his death in 1908, he left an adjoining house on Sandford St to the Trustees who converted it into nurses quarters and offices. The institution became known as the ‘Lichfield Victoria Nursing Home and Cottage Hospital’ and moved to the Friary in the 1930s.


Site of the Nursing Home on Sandford Street.

Despite opposition from many, the Victoria Hospital was demolished in 2007. In a blog post which discusses both street names and women, it would be remiss of me not to mention that on the Victoria Place development, built on the site of the hospital, there is a Mary Slater Road, named after a woman who left money in her will to help found The Lichfield Nursing Institution & Invalids’ Kitchen which later became the Victoria Hospital.

(I should insert a photo of the Victoria Hospital here but to my shame and annoyance, I did not ever take one! Take more photographs of your surroundings people – you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone…)

The only physical trace of the hospital that survives on the site is the foundation stone which incorrectly states that it was laid by Mrs Swinfen Broun of Swinfen Hall, Lichfield, on Empire Day 1932. In fact, Mrs Swinfen Broun was too unwell to attend the occasion and so the honour of laying the stone instead fell to her husband. The stone also incorporated a time capsule of sorts, containing copies of the Lichfield Mercury, coins and other ephemera. I wonder if it still does?.  At the time of the ceremony, the President of the Hospital was Edith Heath, a position which she retired from in June 1947 having served on the committee for 32 years.

Victoria Hospital Plaque location.JPG

The foundation stone may be the only part of the old Vic that survives onsite. However, there’s another bit of medical evidence of its existence elsewhere. In a twist of fate, as a result of a twisted ankle (that actually turned out to be a fractured tibia) and a broken toe, in-between taking the photos for this post and getting around to writing it, I’ve found myself at the Victoria’s successor, the Samuel Johnson Community Hospital, twice in the last two weeks. Whilst in the treatment room, I spotted the famous old chair from the Vic’s casualty department.  I may be lacking in the ‘having a photograph of the hospital building’ department but I was determined to furnish the blog with a photo of the chair so that you don’t have to injure yourself in order to see this bit of hospital history. As a result of this public spirited act, someone should probably name a street after me. Anyone suggesting it should be a dodgy back alley will be escorted from the premises.

Old vic chair Samuel Johnson Community Hospital.jpg

The pile of crutches is significantly smaller now thanks to my two children

Lichfield Mercury Archive
‘Lichfield: Churches’, in A History of the County of Stafford: Volume 14, Lichfield, ed. M W Greenslade (London, 1990)

Here be a Dragon

I had an email from Charlotte who told me she’d always been curious about a grave at Christ Church in Burntwood. It belongs to Dragon Franciszek Kempa, who was born in September 1919 and died aged 25 on 12th November 1944. Why is a member of the 10th Dragoon Regiment of the Polish 1st Armoured Division buried here?

Documents relating to the Polish Armed Forces are kept in an archive at The Polish Institute and Sikorski Museum. However, there’s currently a waiting list for postal enquiries of around 6 months and so it would probably be quicker to pay a visit to that London in person. In the meantime, I’m hoping that someone out there might be able to help us piece together the story of Burntwood’s Black Devil.

My best guess at the moment is that Franciszek was a military patient at the Emergency Hospital, set up at St Matthew’s between 1940 and 1947, who sadly succumbed to his wounds sustained during the unit’s Normandy campaign, or its subsequent action in Belgium and Holland. For a bit of background reading, Ethel Lote’s account of being a nurse at the hospital during this time is here. I also found a letter published in the Lichfield Mercury, from James Gantley of The King’s Regiment (Liverpool), just a few weeks after Franciszek died.  He wrote:

Sir – I would like you to publish this letter in your paper as it is the only way I can show my appreciation for the good the local people did and still do for the soldiers at Burntwood Hospital. I have only recently left Burntwood EMS Hospital and though I was only there a short while, I think that the best I can do is to thank the local people from the bottom of my heart for the attitude they show to the wounded soldiers of the Hospital. I know that almost every day there is an outing for the boys who are fit enough to go. I have been on these outings myself and was delighted at the reception the people gave us, and I’m sure that many of them went out of pocket just for the sake of giving us a good enjoyable evening. Food was plentiful for us, also cigarettes and at many places we got some cash. It beats me as to how these good natured people managed to do this for us.

The miners must not be forgotten either, because they did everything in their power to give us a good time, and I must say that is exactly what we had when we were invited to their clubs. The boys who went to the Lido Club will verify that.

Also, I must not forget the people of Burntwood, who supplied us with some very good entertainment in their school hall. There is also Hercules, Lucas’s and St John’s of Birmingham who helped to make us soldiers happy. These are a few of the places who have helped but there are many more.

We must also remember the Nurses and Staff of the Hospital who make it possible for us to enjoy these occasions. They must be heartily thanked for the tough work they do, and which they have been doing through the dark years of the war. Many don’t realise how hard their work is but they deserve as much praise as the men on the battlefield.

I will now conclude with my letter, but before I close I must once again thank all those local people on behalf of myself, and I’m certain the other boys of the Hospital who have enjoyed their hospitality feel the same as I do. England is worth fighting for, even if it’s only to keep up this good sociable spirit that Englanders have always had. These things will never be forgotten even when this war is over and the world is once more a peace.

Information or thoughts from anyone who can help to shed any light on how this corner of a Burntwood field became for ever Poland would be very welcome.

Lichfield Mercury Friday 24th November 1944

A Hole Nother Story

Remember at the start of the year there was a petition from some residents living in Bell End in the Black Country who wanted to change the name of their street because they said it was a bit rude and made those living there a laughing stock? Their limp attempt ended up with about 50 signatures whilst a counter petition, by a woman who found it far more offensive that a historic place name should be changed because of a a few, yes I’m going to say it, snowflakes*, ended up considerably larger with close to 5,000 supporting it.

A similar thing had happened here in Lichfield back in the 1930s and 40s. In December 1934, at the first meeting of the new Lichfield City Council year, the Town Clerk submitted a petition dated 22nd October 1934 signed by 23 residents of Hobshole Lane asking that the council rename it. At the first council meeting of the actual new year, on Wednesday 9th January 1935, it was agreed that it would be altered to ‘Valley Lane'”, and it has been known by this name ever since (officially at least).

Then, in October 1946, Mr Percy Laithwaite gave a talk to the Lichfield Women’s Institute on ‘The Why and Wherefore of Lichfield names’, and the Lichfield Mercury reported that many members had expressed regret that old names were being allowed to die out. The example cited was “the enchanting name of ‘Hobs Hole’ which means ‘Goblin’s Meadow’ being exchanged for the very ordinary one of ‘Valley Lane’ and it was decided to send a petition to the City Council asking it not to discard these ancient names which help give Lichfield its special character. It’s something I’m quite passionate about myself as place names tell stories and behind even the most seemingly prosaic ones, tales of sex, death and magical creatures lie waiting to be discovered. Look up Union Street in Wells if you don’t believe me.

Anyway, as Mr Laithwaite explained, the name Hobshole may have a folkloric origin. According to David Horovitz’s study on the place names of Staffordshire, similar place names in the vicinity (including Hobs Hall Lane at Aldridge) are made up of the Middle English ‘hob’ meaning ‘sprite, elf, hobgoblin’ and ‘hole’ referring to ‘a hollow, dingle or small valley’. It goes on to say that pits, holes and ancient earthworks were often associated with hob, sprites and goblins. I’m not sure whether this was because of an actual belief that a supernatural creature was in residence or whether stories of supernatural creatures were invented as a way of keeping curious children away from dangerous places. Perhaps a combination of the two?

What was it about having Hobshole as an address that residents objected to? The area seems to have been developed in the 1920s when council houses were built and I wonder whether it was something about people looking forward to the future and leaving the past and its unsophisticated ways behind? It wasn’t Hob’s hole anymore, it was their home. Perhaps the area had a reputation, for being haunted by hobgoblins or otherwise, that people were keen to disassociate themselves from?

About six months ago, I was having a conversation with someone who once lived on  Valley Lane in Lichfield and he told me the deeds to his house had had a map attached. A landscape feature called ‘Hob’s Hole’ was actually marked on this but I suspect whatever it was has long been lost. However, the past hasn’t been entirely discarded and I’m sure that the WI and Mr Laithwaite would be pleased to know that there is a Hob’s Lane off Valley Lane, even if it doesn’t quite tell the (w)hole story.

*weather joke. Ignore if reading in July.


Lichfield Mercury Archive

A Survey and Analysis and of the Place Names of Staffordshire by David Horovitz LL.B