Celebrity Interview – Sherrie Hewson
Sherrie Hewson is feeling a little bit emotional. The Nottinghamshire-born actress is delighted to be returning to Nottingham’s Theatre Royal in a show that has provoked a “wild” reaction from audiences. But she’s also sad to be saying goodbye to a character she’s become synonymous with as well as a group of actors who she regards as family. Sherrie has been on tour for the past six months in the stage show of the television series Benidorm. She plays hotel manager Joyce Temple-Savage, a “wonderful” part which writer Derren Litten penned with Sherrie in mind. But there’ll be no more Benidorm on TV. Although Litten is writing a film featuring all the usual Solana Hotel guests and staff, the stage show gives the cast the opportunity to say farewell to the fans who’ve helped it to win a BAFTA for best situation comedy as well as other national television awards. Speaking from Dartford during a stop-off on the tour, Sherrie explained how fantastic it is to hear people laughing at the show, what she’d like to appear in next and why the Mayor of Nottingham wasn’t happy with her the last time she performed in the city. She says the response from audiences at Benidorm Live has been “phenomenal”. “The producers have said they’ve never seen anything like it because audiences are standing and screaming. In all my hundreds of years in this business I’ve never seen a reaction like it. When each one of us comes out the audience goes wild. At the end they’re up on their feet screaming. It’s just extraordinary. “I said to the boys (in the show) ‘you’ll never see this again in your lifetime’. It’s the love of the ten years of the show and love of the characters.” Sherrie points out that some of the people who’ve seen the live show have never watched the television programme. One family in Dartford said they had never laughed so much in their lives and booked to see the show again later in the week. Benidorm Live starts where the last television programme finished, with a hotel chain trying to take over the Solana. Sherrie says the difference between the television series and the stage show is that the actors can hear laughter. “Usually we’ve only got a crew watching us who want to go for lunch.” She joined the television series at the start of series five in 2012. “It was amazing from day one. Joyce Temple-Savage will stay with me forever and Derren wrote the part with me in mind, which is a wonderful thing to happen to an actor. When I first read the script I could actually hear my voice. So that’s how wonderful it was and still is. “I will miss playing her because I love her quirkiness and everything about her. You put a lot of yourself into something. So when Benidorm goes, part of you goes. We’ve invested a lot of our lives in the show. That will be the sadness.” Sherrie Lynn Hutchinson was born on 17 September 1950 in Burton Joyce. She first trod the boards when she was four. “My mother used to model at the Theatre Royal. I was a little girl in a big dress with white socks and white sandals and I used to walk behind her.” As a child she performed at Nottingham Arts Theatre with Su Pollard in Whistle Down The Wind. She trained as a ballet dancer in Nottingham along with Janine Duvitski who plays Jacqueline in Benidorm. After going to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, Sherrie’s career took off with television appearances in Z Cars and the prison drama Within These Walls. In 1975 she was cast in Carry On Behind and her talent for comedy led to her being invited to join Russ Abbot’s Madhouse where she was an integral part of the team for more than ten years. More recently she has become known as accident-prone supermarket assistant Maureen Webster in Coronation Street, Lesley Meredith in Emmerdale and as a panellist on the ITV lunchtime show Loose Women for 13 years. Now she is returning to the Theatre Royal where she last appeared in 2017 as Mrs Potts in Beauty And The Beast. She tries to get back to Nottingham as often as she can to see family which includes Nottingham Forest legend Garry Birtles who is her cousin. But she’s not a fan of how the city is changing. “I hate it that Nottingham has been messed about architecturally. When I did panto there I said to the Mayor ‘will you please leave Nottingham alone! We want the old Nottingham, not what you’re doing’. I don’t think he was very happy with me.” Back to Benidorm and Sherrie believes it’s so popular because it has replaced the Carry On films. “Benidorm is quintessentially British, it’s everything the Carry Ons were and it’s postcard British comedy which everybody loves. Every time I hear the music it makes me smile. “It’s quite near the knuckle sometimes in exactly the same way a pantomime is. But you could never take offence at Benidorm.” How much of Sherrie is in the character of Joyce Temple-Savage? “Well, she’s a kind of heightened version of me really. She’s a victim, she’s quite sad, she’s a strong woman with a big work ethic, like I have. “I like her because she’s a survivor. Whatever you throw at her she’ll get up for another day and fight. I think she’s quite lonely and I feel sorry for her sometimes. But she’s her own worst enemy too because she’s too strong, been on her own too long and will fight her corner rather than back down. “I guess that’s part of me and the reason I survive in life – I’ve had knocks but I always kick them out of the way and get up and fight another day.” Those knocks include being divorced from her husband after he admitted having an affair.
Lost Houses of Derbyshire – Breadsall Mount
Breadsall was one of the villages immediately surrounding Derby that so far has escaped being absorbed by the ever-expanding city below it and to the south, although a considerable amount of land on the southern edge of the parish was absorbed in 1921 and is now host to the Breadsall Hill Top estate, created through the sale and destruction of two of several country houses and gentleman’s villas in the parish, Breadsall Hill Top and Breadsall Mount. Indeed, Breadsall’s history was always chequered, the parish having been divided by its first feudal lords, the de Dunes, into two separate manorial estates. There were also two settlements: the present village, originally Breadsall Nether Hall, and another on the ridge to the SE called Breadsall Upper Hall. I became acquainted with the latter when, as Assistant Keeper of Archaeology at the Museum, I was invited in 1980 to the site by the late Maurice Brassington to see what was there, the City Council having then just decided to sell the entire area for housing. What we found was a moated site, presumably the site of the de Dune family’s Upper Hall, and numerous sunken lanes and grassy house platforms: the place was a hitherto unrecorded deserted Medieval village (DMV). Had we discovered all this before, English Heritage (as it then was) could have been alerted and, even had they failed to stop Derby expanding onto the site, could at least have insisted on an archaeological investigation, although, in truth, the requirement for a developer to fund an excavation in the circumstances was then still a decade and a half off. Down the hill, Breadsall Nether Hall is now Breadsall Old Hall, a much-rebuilt Medieval remnant in the middle of the village, once the property of the Harpurs and previously of the Curzons. To the north, once stood Breadsall Priory, which was replaced by the Cutler family’s new house around 1600. This Jacobean mansion, much rebuilt for Sir Alfred Haslam by Scrivener of Stoke and extended in the Edwardian period by Percy Currey, eventually became an hotel. On the Hill Top, things were different. Just SE of the DMV once stood Breadsall Mount, on land owned by the Bateman family of Derby and Hartington Hall as part of the large estate centered on Morley which they had inherited from the Sacheverels. They had numerous interests in Derby, and in 1731 built 36, St. Mary’s Gate as their town house – until they inherited the much grander St. Mary’s Gate House a generation later. One, Sir Hugh Bateman MP, was raised to a baronetcy in 1806, but failed to leave any sons, the title going via a daughter (a most unusual arrangement for a baronet) to the Scotts of Great Barr and eventually to the Hoods. Yet by the Regency period the centre of Derby was getting polluted and noisy. The elite were minded to move into the suburbs, and in this series we have looked at several of the opulent villas built by the Bateman’s contemporaries. Their own first suburban house was Litchurch Villa, of c. 1828, now the Rolls-Rovce club on Osmaston Road. Yet a generation down the line again it turned out to be too close the foundries of Litchurch, the smoke, smells and racket of which made the place difficult to live in. Therefore, Sir Hugh’s nephew, Thomas Osborne Bateman (fifth son of the Baronet’s brother Richard) decided in 1863 to move yet again, this time choosing the high ground to the north of the town, clear of what the prevailing wind might bring from the foundries. Here he decided to build a new house entirely, and spare no expense whilst doing so. The site was on land once part of Breadsall Upper Hall but it was on the family’s ancient Morley estate, which supported the house, for Morley Hall was demolished by the 1750s and a successor house rented out. Called Breadsall Mount, the house was begun in 1863, the architect being Henry Isaac Stevens of Friar Gate (1806-1873), then in partnership with Lancashire gentleman-architect Frederick Josias Robinson. Stevens was Derbyshire’s best known, most prolific and accomplished Victorian architect, if not perhaps the most imaginative. Second son of Isaac Nehemiah Stevens of Pimlico (later of Ockbrook), Steward to the Earl of Chesterfield, his mother was Londoner Elizabeth Young. Henry (as he was originally baptised on 15 November 1806 at St. George’s, Hanover Square) was trained under William Martin, Lord Chesterfield’s agent and architect at Bretby and the family seem to have had close connections with Lord Chesterfield’s household in London as well as in Derbyshire. He also studied in the office of Sir Jeffrey Wyatville whilst the latter was working at Windsor Castle. Sir Jeffrey had designed Bretby Castle with Martin, and Stevens married Martin’s daughter Anne in 1832, settling and beginning work at Hartshorne, also on the Chesterfield estate. They had four children of whom only the youngest outlived her parents. Through his wife, he was also uncle to another prolific Derby architect, George Henry Sheffield, whom he trained. Stevens was Churchwarden of All Saints’ 1842-3, but by 1852 (when he was elected FRIBA) the family was living at Mackworth. At just about the time he was completing Breadsall Mount (and perhaps thanks to the fee!) he built himself The Hollies, 20 Pear Tree Road, Pear Tree, a new Derby suburb. He served as a Conservative Councillor 1862-64 and 1866-69, and his will is dated 18th November 1872. He died at home 30th April 1873. The house Stevens built was fairly standard fare for him. It was ‘Jacobethan’ that is, a combination of classic Elizabethan and Jacobean features, then very popular with the elite. The entrance was on the three gabled west front, and was through a Gothic doorcase above which was carved, by Derby sculptor Joseph Barlow Robinson, the Bateman arms, quartering Sacheverell and Osborne. The gables were straight and coped, the house of two lofty storeys and attics and built of fine ashlar, squared from
Local Collectibles – Classic Histories of Derby
In 2013 I wrote an article in Country Images about collecting local books, and threatened to continue the theme with further examples at a later date. Since then, we have been concentrating on modern collectibles, but following three separate appeals from readers for me to continue with collectible old local books, I thought I might take a detour and look at the oldest printed accounts of Derby itself. The very first written account after John Leland appears in William Camden’s Britannia of 1610, but which is not only in Latin, but is also hard to come by and contains accounts of everywhere else too, as does the account in Britton & Bailey’s Beauties of England & Wales (1801 on). There were also one or two short notices written in the later 17th century, but key is the MS account by William Woolley of Darley Hall, written in 1713. It was only published in 1981, but was much plundered (being in various local collections from the start and probably in more than one copy). Woolley wrote quite a full account of the town, and was followed by most who came after. The first was William Hutton, FSA (Scot) who published his History and Antiquities of Derby in 1791, devoting 320 pages to his subject. He was a native of the town, a former child employee of the Silk Mill and much of what he wrote is from personal experience which makes his book crucial, although he also quotes copiously from Woolley. The book is 9 by 6 inches (octavo) and contains an east prospect of Derby as a frontispiece, by George Moneypenny, Joseph Pickford’s former carver, P P Burdett’s revised map of Derby and a number of engravings, also by Moneypenny who was a fine sculptor, but in my view less accomplished as a draughtsman! A second edition – little changed – was printed in 1819, but which is less desirable to the collector. A reproduction version of 2017 should cost about £20-25 but an original copy is more expensive and much scarcer: £480 was paid for one recently, although rebound in half calf. My copy has Horatio Walpole’s bookplate and is thus from the library at Strawberry Hill, which might add a premium, but £120-£180 should buy a serviceable copy, and less for the second edition. In between came Samuel & Nathaniel Lysons’ History of Derbyshire (1817) with a Derby section closely based on Hutton but with a better map. Robert Simpson was the next in the field, publishing A Collection of Fragments IIlustrative of the History and Antiquities of Derby, three parts in two volumes in 1826. Part one reproduces in full all the documents then available relating to Derby’s History whilst part II is an account of the topography, churches and buildings. Part three contains biographical notes, lists of Mayors MPs and High Sheriffs and so on – all very useful, if hardly gripping reading! For both volumes, complete with folding map and lithographic illustrations, you will need £200 plus – one dealer is currently asking £150 for volume II only! – but the 2015 paperback reprint usually costs £30-35. The classic history is that of Stephen Glover, being an amplification of his 1827 directory of the county (published, confusingly, in 1829). That same year he published volume one of a projected History and Gazetteer of Derbyshire, which consists of a general history, natural history, manufactures etc, plus 17 useful appendices, reprinting documents, many of which had eluded Simpson, including the town annals in full, a document since lost in the 1841 Guildhall fire. But just for a good history of Derby itself, one requires volume two (he never published any more volumes, due to a variety of problems) which came out in 1831. This has nearly 500 pages with 250-odd devoted to Derby, with lots of (well-known) woodcuts and some good engravings. In the same year Glover published a revised volume I and in 1833 came the best, revised volume II, now 623 pages. The first edition now goes for about £140 plus, the second for £60-180. However, he also had imperial octavo editions printed, like mine, which normally go for over £200. A single volume II of either edition now costs between £50 and £80. The Derby section of Glover’s history was revised again in 1843 (with a gazetteer and directory), reprinted in hardback in the 1990s by Breedon Books, this going for some £15 these days, although the original makes between £50 and £80 in good condition and there is even an 1858 version usually obtainable (but very rarely available) at the same sort of price. One nice chatty book about Derby which is readable and includes some quirky asides is John Keys’ Sketches of Old Derby and Neighbourhood, a limited edition on high quality paper and binding published by Bemrose in imperial octavo in 1895. Keys was an ex-employee of the China Factory, so adds some fascinating insights. It is a handsome book and contains a number of engravings, some of unfamiliar buildings. It also reproduced the famous 1712 plan of The Friary. Ex-library and well-thumbed this should cost no more than £25, but for a good copy you must expect to pay up to about £80. In 1909 came A W Davison’s Derby, its Rise and Progress which is a handy account as far as it goes, as is its close cousin, W. A. Richardson’s Citizen’s Derby, of 1947, issued to all Borough Schools and therefore quite common and inexpensive (£10-15) Neither has any pretension to scholarship, and much of the information has been modified by later research. Finally, there is Llewellyn Eardley Simpson’s Derby and the ’Forty Five, published in London by Philip Allen in 1933 and fairly scarce. Despite being pretty fiercely partisan in favour of the Jacobite cause, it is very detailed and useful, drawing together all the available sources including those in the Royal Archives, and reproduces some in full. There is also a sort of prosopography of
Dining Out – The Curry Lounge, Somercotes
They’re in every town centre and sometimes have the same names; that’s Indian restaurants. Somercotes is no exception. At the side of the parish church, on what remains of the Market Place, is the Curry Lounge; an independent restaurant, owned and skillfully managed by Ukeel. Susan and myself visited the Curry Lounge on a Saturday evening and despite it being a busy weekend there was plenty of room to park close by, without having to cross a busy road. We arrived by taxi and were dropped off at the door. As we entered the foyer we were surprised and impressed by the light, contemporary décor and layout of the interior. Traditional icons, combined with a dedicated colour palate, have been used with a light touch to create a welcoming space that wouldn’t look out of place in a modern city centre restaurant. The seating in the restaurant isn’t cramped and the layout allows them to accommodate a large party very easily. Once we were comfortably seated Ukeel guided us through the menu and made a few recommendations. The Curry Lounge serves an excellent array of soft drinks but doesn’t have a liquor license. However, you can take your own; which in some ways is a good thing. If you have a favourite wine or beer, you can bring it along. You won’t have to put up with an alternative. We chose a dry Riesling style wine from Austria: Grüner Veltliner 2017. It’s a classy, crisp dry wine and makes an interesting alternative to a good Sauvignon Blanc; the colour of fresh straw with a hint of gooseberries and green apple smell. The well balanced acidity and citrus flavours make it an ideal accompaniment to Indian spices. The smartly dressed, attentive waiters never missed a beat; replacing cutlery when needed and asking if we’d like to keep the sauce boat of raita on the table after we’d finished our crispy poppadoms. The trio of poppadom accompaniments: a tomato and onion, a mango and a lime chutney were all spicy and smooth. A pleasant prelude to a spicy dinner. For her starter Susan chose the vegetable samosas. There are samosas where the pastry is too thick but these triangular shaped thin pastry cases filled with a mildly spiced mixture of finely diced vegetables allowed the filling to be star of the show. The raita, left over from our appetiser, was not out of place with the pastry parcels. Ukeel had recommended that I try one of the sea food dishes. I selected the Curry Lounge’s own recipe starter; a fillet of moist white fish, that had retained all its flavour, gently cooked in a dusting of spiced flour and accompanied by a dash of that raita. On our way to the Curry Lounge Susan had said that she’d like to try a main dish other than chicken. One of the restaurant’s signature dishes is a lamb pasanda and so, Sue chose it as her main. The creamy pasanda sauce, made with combination of cream or yoghurt, spices, raisins and nuts, coated the tender, diced lamb and made the dish spicy and smooth with a sweet, fruity note. I’m a big fan of spinach; either raw in a salad or, as in this case, used to flavour and thicken a dish. That’s why I chose the house favourite: the Deshi Delight. This consisted of large pieces of chicken that had been marinated in a yoghurt and spice sauce (similar to a tandoori marinade) served in a hot, but not fierce, sauce of chickpeas and spinach. The chicken was tender and moist and the sauce lived up to its billing delivering spice, texture and clean flavours. To go with our mains we wanted to try a bit of everything. So, we ordered only one portion of rice plus a garlic and coriander naan, that was warm, moist and beautifully blistered, and a dish of Bombay aloo, fluffy potatoes in a mildly spiced tomato sauce. Saturday is a busy time for any restaurant and the Curry Lounge buzzed with conversation and guests moving in and out. This contributed to making our enjoyable evening so memorable. A big ‘thank you’ to Ukeel and his staff for a relaxed evening and wonderful Indian food. +10
Walk Derbyshire – Walking Above the Canal – Cromford
The car park at the Cromford end of its namesake canal is a popular starting point for at least five walks to my reckoning. Most weekends and days in between, well-clad walkers will be congregating, busily pulling on their boots and at the same time, chatting to their friends. This walk starts, like all the others at the Cromford Wharf car park, before making its way over the river and under the railway, to join a path climbing steeply left up on to Bilberry Knoll. Almost immediately pleasant woodland tracks lead down to Lea Mills, before joining the long abandoned Lea Mills arm of the Cromford Canal. Turning right where the arm joins the main canal, the tow-path leads back to the car park by way of the information centre and railway workshops that once serviced trains hauled up and down Sheepwash Incline, on their way across the limestone moors to Whalley Bridge. You can get a coffee at the information centre, or more filling meals at the canal’s end. Despite being short in length, this walk is long in interest, especially historical. Right at the start, the old buildings dotted around the wharf’s car park, once acted as warehouses and offices for the canal company. The canal itself once linked the growing commercial interests of Arkwright’s Cotton Mills to the outside world, carrying raw cotton in, and finished yarn out. Alongside this, limestone from nearby quarries was shipped out in horse-drawn barges and coal from Nottinghamshire carried back. The Cromford Canal drove its way eastwards, passing beneath Ripley through a now abandoned tunnel, before running south at Langley Mill to link with the Trent and Mersey Canal. Since its abandonment, the Cromford Canal has become a wildlife haven, one of the few places where you might find water voles ‘ratty’ of the Wind in the Willows. Pleasure trips, some horse drawn, can enjoy a gentle cruise along the water in summer. However the navigable section ends where it is joined with the remains of the Lea Mills arm. There is deep, but not dredged water for a mile or two as far as the outskirts of Ambergate, but beyond there will be impossible without major engineering work – the gas depot fills a massive hole cut into the line of the canal. Furthermore, the Butterley Tunnel became dangerous as far back as the 1920s, cutting off any route beneath Ripley. What is left of a navigable Cromford Canal remains as a wildlife sanctuary. The Lea Mills Branch serviced the mill and also a lead smelter owned by Florence Nightingale’s uncle. When the Derby/Rowsley section of the London/Manchester Railway was built in 1849, it cut through the Lea Mills canal, effectively closing it for evermore. There used to be a pretty, now ruined cottage at the junction. It probably housed the family of the man who stoked the boiler providing steam to power the massive pump that lifts water from the river, up into the canal in order to keep the level high enough for traffic. The pump, incidentally operates on advertised days (usually Bank Holidays), throughout the summer. Much of the history of both the canal and Cromford and High Peak Railway is displayed in a simple, but effective display at the High Peak Junction Information Centre at the foot of Sheepwash Incline. Even though the first part of the walk is along the road, it is full of interest. Look out for the Fishing Temple to your right of the bridge. Beyond and below it are the scant remains of the medieval chapel where pre-bridge travellers prayed before crossing the dangerous Crom Ford. Look also over the bridge parapet on your left for the sign briefly telling the story of a horse and rider who jumped into the river from this point. The entrance to Willersley Castle is to the left beyond the bridge. This was to be Sir Richard Arkwright’s manorial home, but building was delayed due to a fire and he died before it was finished. Continuing along the road in the direction of Crich, a narrow footpath leads under the railway and in about 60 yards, an awkwardly narrow stone stile climbs up into fields leading up to the ridge-top track across Billberry Knoll. On the way it crosses an unsurfaced track leading to two farms on your right. The first is Meadow Farm and the second is Castletop, one time home of Allison Uttley a famous children’s story writer in the 1920s. From the top of the hill, the track leads through woodland where bluebells will flower in spring, down to Lea Mills. Still manufacturing high quality knitwear, it is the last still operating mill in the Derwent Valley. A dog-leg will take you to the towpath of the abandoned canal. Follow it, over the railway as far as the main which will lead you back to the car park. The Walk with Rambler From the canal-end car park walk out on to the road and turn right. Cross over the river and go past the entrance to Willersley Castle. Continue ahead where a side road bears left. Go forwards to the railway bridge. After about 50 yards on the far side of the bridge look out for a narrow stone stile on your left. Climb through it and begin to walk directly up the steep hillside. Cross a farm track and continue on your way to the top of the hill, passing the boundaries of two stretches of woodland along the way. Go through a pair of old stone gateposts and then turn right to follow a woodland bridleway, downhill alongside the boundary of more woodland. In the corner between open fields and the woods, take the furthest left of a pair of footpaths and enter another section of woods. This is Coumbs Wood, famous along with its neighbour, Bow Wood for its bluebells in spring. Follow the path, winding downhill. Where there is a break in the woodland, take
The National Stone Centre
Travelling back in time a few millenia, Brian Spencer describes what the Peak District looked like when land that became the British Isles was part of a tropical island situated near the Equator. A series of small inter-connected abandoned limestone quarries off the road to Ashbourne, near the top of the hill marking the boundary between Wirksworth and Cromford, close to Steeplegrange miniature light railway, hold a unique record of the limestone rocks formed in an ancient sea, long, long ago. This record has been preserved as the National Stone Centre. Access is free and a short, easy walk of less than a mile, takes us back to a time before we humans walked on the earth. What eventually formed the Peak District would have looked not unlike today’s Bahamas. A shallow lagoon surrounded by jagged reefs and dotted by small active volcanos, stretched from what is now roughly on a line between Ashbourne, Wirksworth, Matlock and Ashover in the south and a similar line from Buxton to Castleton in the north; its other boundaries followed what is now the Derwent Valley and the Dove and lower Manifold Valleys. This is now called the White Peak in acknowledgement of the colour of limestone laid down millions of years ago. Standing in the Stone Centre, facing the direction of Wirksworth, to your front would have been a deep ocean, whilst to your rear would stretch a roughly oval shallow lagoon teeming with corals, shell-fish and creatures similar to water lilies. The one unique feature of all these plants and animals was that they had shell-like structures and when they died in their countless billions became limestone, the raw material of a major Peakland industry. rom the car park above the High Peak Trail walk down the Stone Centre access drive, past a restored limekiln on your left near the railway. Pass Geosteps an amphitheatre of stone benches, each level made of stones ranging from the oldest at the bottom, gradually moving in time to the youngest at the top. Although the trail proper starts at the Visitor Centre, the track passes the blocked-off top of a lead mine, a now dead Peak industry exploiting the result of minerals deposited during the time of volcanic activity. There is a small, but easy to understand set of details, mostly posters fixed around the walls of the Information Centre café, browse on them, building up your knowledge before setting out on our voyage back in geological time. Plaques on the site of features mentioned below also explain what you are looking at. Point 1. Looking out to sea. To the right outside the café entrance, a short hop past a line of parked cars leads to the first viewpoint. Here and with a little imagination, you are standing on a tropical island in mid ocean. This was a narrow strip of land forming a wave-washed reef, the edge of a shallow lagoon. Warm water was to the rear, fronting deep sea in front. Point 2. Rock shelves Moving on to the trail proper, the next feature is a series of rock shelves topped by a rock tower created by a local artist. What at first looks like nothing more than whitish rock is, after a closer look, made from the fossilised remains of billions of creatures that once lived on the surrounding sea bed. Most are easy to identify, from hollows made by the two halves of clam-like brachiopods. Once as plentiful as today’s mussels, they more or less died out. They lived on the muddy sea bed with their convex sides face-down. Nearby there is the circular top of a coral, a plant-like creature that thrived in water heated by strong sunshine. Looking at the lower sections of undamaged fossilised remains, it can be deduced that the sea bed was calm, but higher up the fossils are damaged and jumbled, a sure indication that this was where waves came crashing in from the deeper ocean. Point 3. Limestone beds above the lagoon Moving round to the left, following the quarry face, the path leads into a cul-de-sac above a worked-out part of the quarry. Here are limestone beds that were deposited in the bottom of the broad, shallow lagoon. The debris is composed of the remains of shells and even faecal pellets and parts of skeletons, suggesting that larger creatures fed on lagoon life. This was the lagoon that eventually became the White Peak of Derbyshire. If you look carefully, you may notice that the beds tilt very gently to the east, a feature caused by much later earth movements also left vertical fractures or joints between the beds. Point 4. A mineral vein and crinoid beds Turn back along the track leading to the limestone beds and go down a short flight of steps in order to stand beside a rock face to your right. You are now looking at the side wall of a fracture in the limestone face. These fractures were later filled by mineral rich, hot liquids that interacted chemically with the limestone to form lead-based compounds such as galena, barite, fluorspar and calcite. The vein you are looking at was once part of a worked out mine, but you can still see tiny grey flecks of galena (lead sulphide) and barite (barium sulphate). This vein, incidentally, is aligned east-west, a feature typically prevalent to Peak District veins or rakes. Turning round to face the other direction, you will see that instead of a vertical rock face you are now in front of a sloping mass of dark grey rock. This is all that remains of the back slope of the reef sheltering the lagoon, away from the open ocean. Towards the base there are the fossilised remains of creatures called crinoids which are related to modern starfish. They fed by filtering seawater through their frond-like arms to catch microscopic plankton, whilst attached to the seabed by long stems. The stems being the strongest part means
Taste Derbyshire – A Slice of Italy – Lambarelli’s
The outskirts of Chesterfield on a grey and dismal morning seems an unlikely place to find la dolce vita. But follow your nose into Lambarelli’s Italian Caffé and Pasta Bar on Chesterfield Road and you’ll be instantly transported from North Derbyshire to Southern Italy on an aromatic cloud of fresh herbs, strong coffee and sweet panettone. It’s also the place to learn the secrets of the perfect pasta sauce from café proprietor and award-winning food producer Teresa Lambarelli. But first, Teresa insists I meet her own food hero; her father Michele (79), who runs Chesterfield’s smallest delicatessen in a room at the back of the café. “It’s like stepping back in time,” Teresa says with obvious pride. “Our customers say they only have to walk into Lambarelli’s and they are on holiday in Italy.” Michele has been dealing with queues all morning but he still has the time to share with me the secret of a long and happy life. “Goat’s cheese,” he beams. “And pasta. It’s very healthy if you don’t eat too much of it. Add Italian coffee, sunshine and a glass of wine and you’ll live to be one hundred.” These days, Italian food may be one of the most popular cuisines in the UK but this was not the case in the 1960s when Michele and wife Susan decided to open a delicatessen followed, in 1975, by a pizzeria. “In those days, I’d be cooking garlic and people used to say ‘what is that smell?’ – they didn’t like it,” Michele laughs. “I used to slice the pizza and get them to take just a little bite. One taste and they were hooked. We used to have queues down the street. All my family helped out in the business because we were so busy.” According to Teresa, her childhood was all about food – especially when an Italian restaurant was added to the business in 1986. “My sisters Diane, Netta and I all had little jobs like stocking shelves in the shop, cleaning tables and serving customers – I even did my homework in the restaurant,” she laughs. “I loved it. I was born in England but I am Italian by blood; I am passionate about the people, the sun and, most of all, the food. My mum says I was six or seven when I started asking if I could cook the Sunday lunch.” Teresa admits she found it difficult to part from the family business even when she left school; “I became a window-dresser but I still worked at Lambarelli’s a few nights a week,” she smiles. “I wanted a car and to buy a house and my parents had instilled in me that you have to work hard to get things – so I was happy to work two jobs. When my dad stepped back from the restaurant, I helped him run the pizza take-away.” But Teresa had to re-think her busy life-style when her marriage broke down. Trying to work long hours – and look after her daughters Amelia and Sophia, then four and two-years-old – was impossible. “I had to walk away completely and devote my time to the girls,” she recalls. “Once they were both at school, I started on a beauty therapy course. One of my lecturers, Lisa Shannon, told me she would go to Lambarelli’s just to have my Bolognese. Lisa begged me to make her some pots of the sauce. She became my number one fan and, when I told her there was a gap in the market for an authentic pasta sauce, she encouraged me to set up a business from home.” Devising sauce recipes was easy for such a natural cook; the hard part – as for any novice – was finding packaging, designing the labels and complying with all the regulations laid down by the environmental health department. “It cost around £1,000 just to get my coal house converted into a store-room with separate hand-washing facilities,” she explained. “But it was worth the effort as I could fit the business around the girls. It became the lifeline I needed.” Teresa has continued to develop her range of sauces; “I learned the basics of Italian cookery from my grandma as we’d spend the six-week summer holidays in Accadia di Puglia,’ she explains. “That region of Southern Italy is famous for simple, rustic dishes. We never put preservatives or sugar in the tomatoes as they’re already acidic and self-preserving. But cooking is more than just food – it’s family, life-style and passion and I try to put all that in my sauces.” The sauce business was launched in 2005 – one of the first customers being the prestigious Chatsworth Farm Shop. Six years, and much critical acclaim later, Teresa was ready to expand into new premises, which led her back to Lambarelli’s. “My sister Netta and husband Neil were trying to run the restaurant and take-away but it was too much and so the restaurant went up for sale,” she recalls. “It was too dated to attract buyers but I realised it was ideal for my business. I transformed the floor below into a 20-seater café bar offering simple, fresh food and Italian coffee. I also modernised the upstairs restaurant and open every Saturday night.” In the remaining hours, Teresa makes her celebrated sauces and other Italian delicacies like salad dressings, olive pastes and biscotti. The hard work has certainly paid off. Teresa was pronounced Chesterfield Food Producer of the Year in 2017 – her third such title since 2013. “I put my success down to dedication; I live for what I do,” she says. “It helps that I have a great team behind me and loyal customers who come back time and time again.” Teresa still visits Puglia as often as her hectic schedule will allow. “My grandparents have passed away but I still visit family and friends once a year,” she says. “My eldest daughter Amelia, now 20, met her partner Biagio
Taste Derbyshire – Spotted Calf Cafe
There’s something a bit magical about the Spotted Calf café – the small but perfectly formed off-spring of the Spotted Cow pub at Holbrook. It’s not just the quality of the coffee – roasted to perfection in the Derbyshire Peaks – or the tanginess of the home-made lemon polenta cake. It’s the cosy, welcoming nature of the place itself which, because it is run by the community for the community, represents everything good about village life. Even on a bitterly cold winter’s morning, the cafe is a magnet for hikers, cyclists, villagers and visitors alike chatting over bacon butties and thick slices of plum bread. If you should tire of eating home-baked panini bread oozing with melted cheese, you can always run next-door to the pub for home-made fish fingers and a pile of chips. The ‘Cow & Calf’ also cater for vegans, vegetarians, people with gluten intolerances and – since the addition of the post office with its banking service – those in need of a bit more cash to pay for another pint of hand-pumped ale. But the good news is that you can slurp, sup and snack away to your heart’s content because – as the Cow & Calf are owned by 225 residents (and counting) – you feel like you are doing your bit for the community. It’s no surprise to find journalists and TV crews have also been drawn to the pub-cum-cafe since the grand re-opening in July 2017. In fact, during my visit, a lady rushes in clutching a cutting from the financial pages of a national newspaper about ‘how to save your local’ citing the Cow & Calf as the blueprint. Not that anyone needs reminding of this fight. Most residents can still recall where they were when they discovered planning permission was being sought to knock down large parts of the historic building to build eight properties. The pub itself, which had been closed for more than two years, would also become a house. “It caused a lot of upset as the pub has been at the heart of the village for so long. The census shows a farmer and beer retailer living here in the 1840s,” explains Stephanie Limb, a former teacher who is now affectionately known as ‘the lady who saved the pub’. “My husband Christian and I moved here because of amenities like the pub. When I saw an application for planning permission on a lamppost, I was angry. I felt we should do something and talking to a councillor who said opposing the application was ‘a bit late now’ made me more determined.” Her co-worker Tracy Beardmore agrees. “I also felt really angry as the pub used to be the heart of the village,” she says. “I grew-up here and my mum Penny worked in the pub for forty years. It used to be very family oriented and the place where we’d get together to celebrate bonfire fire night and New Year’s Eve. Losing the Spotted Cow would have been like losing part of my childhood.” Over a cup of coffee, Stephanie and Tracy describe how this ‘anger’ galvanised the village into action. “I spoke to a member of CAMRA (Campaign for Real Ale) and was advised to declare the pub an Asset of Community Value, a status which allowed us six months for the residents to raise money to buy it,” explains Stephanie. “I also went to visit a community-owned pub called the Angler’s Rest in Bamford and they suggested talking to the Plunkett Foundation, a charity which supports rural communities. Their advisor not only helped with the practicalities like applying for a grant and setting up the community share offer, but she was the one who kept on telling us to ‘never give up’.” Tracy’s abiding memory of this time is attending the Amber Valley District Council which met to discuss change of use for the pub in November 2016. “We were all just waiting and waiting – I think we were the last item on the list,” she recalls. “It didn’t look good when a councillor said pubs close all the time and that we should ‘get over it’. Others were more supportive and one said we deserved a chance as ‘we’ve all got to have a bit of hope’.” In the event, the application was refused and the villagers faced the unenviable task of finding the best part of £500,000 by March 2017. Undaunted, they launched a crowdfunding campaign in January 2017 with the intention of selling shares in the pub with a minimum investment of £250. “We sent out the questionnaire to see if there was an appetite to save the pub as the Holly Bush and Dead Poets Inns are both nearby,” recalls Stephanie. “The overwhelming response was the Spotted Cow should remain a pub but become more family friendly and provide a hub for the community. Knowing so many people were behind it gave us all confidence but I didn’t believe we’d do it until the keys were in our hands.” Incredibly, the villagers raised a massive £193,000 within four months. This was matched by a further £100,000 grant from a social investment fund. By April 2017, when the original owner decided to retain the top of the car park to build three houses, the villagers were in a position to secure the pub for £275,000. But, getting the keys was only half the battle. The community had been awarded a loan towards the costs of the pub’s refurbishment, but the majority of the hard graft had to be done by an army of volunteers wielding spades, paint brushes and brooms. “We had to use experts for the job to be signed off by the council. Other than that, we relied on a wealth of talented people from in and around the village,” explains Stephanie. “People have asked since how we did it and my top tip would be ‘work with what you have’. We didn’t have all the skills
Images of The North
With an introductory splutter, the public address system announced, first in Norwegian, then in English and German, that we were summoned by King Neptune to assemble on the after-deck to receive our icy baptism. During the night a few hours previously we passed a small island at exactly 66°33’51’’ north, marked by a globe tilted on its axis. This indicates the position of the Arctic Circle where the sun doesn’t rise above the horizon for at least two months in winter, but makes up for it in summer. We were travelling by the Hurtigruten (‘coastal express ferry’), that links the coastal towns of northern Norway with the rest of the country, with two vessels, north and south, calling every day summer and winter at 34 ports along the way. Some stops are for only half an hour, or during the night, but others are longer, stopping for anything up to six hours and where shore excursions are possible. One of the interesting advantages of the trip is that the ferry is also used by locals making short journeys and as a result new faces appear all the time. Ports visited during the night in one direction are called at during daylight on the return journey, missing none of the fascinating towns and villages. Starting at Bergen, Norway’s second city, where North Sea oil activity has beaten deep sea fishing into second place, we had already called at the art nouveau town of Ålesund and Trondheim, once the capital of Norway and where its kings are still crowned in a dual ceremony with Oslo. There is a royal palace tucked away without fuss behind the main shopping streets. Our floating home for the two-week-long voyage was the MS Nordstjernen (North Star), a 2,196 tonne veteran built in 1956. Being so old and small means it doesn’t have the refinements found on its 15,000 tonne big sisters. Refinements such as stabilisers as we later discovered while crossing the Barents Sea, were not available in 1956, but what it lacks in modern amenities is certainly overcome by the friendly old-world atmosphere, and more than made up by the excellent standards of its on-board catering. Not only do the Hurtigruten ships carry passengers, but all carry goods such as the pallets of cement, rock wool and other bulk cargo we watched being loaded into the hold, plus six kayaks lashed down as deck cargo. Our worries that these were alternative travel arrangements disappeared when they were off-loaded one night. Unlike the bigger ships where cargo is loaded through a massive door in their sides, Nordstjernen does not carry cars, but it still serves as an essential link, the life-blood of towns along the way. In return ferries collect such things as the dried fish still popular with Italian and African markets. The Norwegian coast is lined by thousands of islands, some with fairly large towns, but others supporting only a handful of houses, or even none. As a result much of the voyage is along sheltered channels where the calm waters make it almost like sailing along a canal. Here the captain can show off his skills by navigating tricky sections such as the man-made Risøyrenna cut where the sea bottom is only a metre below the ship’s hull, or by making 90° turns through the seemingly impossibly narrow gap of the Stokksundet where German Kaiser Wilhelm II tried to grab control of his yacht. Not surprisingly this annoyed his pilot so much that he pushed the Kaiser aside saying ‘I’m in charge, so leave me alone!’ Realising his mistake the monarch apologised and afterwards gave the pilot a specially inscribed gold watch. Keeping well to the seaward of the awe-inspiring white mass of the Svartisen glacier, the second largest in Norway, we reached the important oil and gas servicing town of Bodø. Beyond is the first open water crossing where a line of jagged peaks make up the Lofoten Wall. The ‘capital’ of Lofoten is Svolvær where racks of cod dry beneath the towering craggy sides of the ‘goat mountain’, named from the twin horns of its summit. Beyond is narrow Raftsundet, lined by peaks rising to over 3,000 feet, it is the longest stretch of difficult water, but one the captain nonchalantly steamed through at a steady 15 knots. Snow down to sea level even in late March reminded us that we were now well into the arctic zone, sailing towards Tromsø, the largest city of the far north. With its evocatively designed Arctic Cathedral and memorial to the explorer Roald Amundsen it reminded us that we were entering latitudes level with the northern coast of mainland Canada and the top of Siberia; if it wasn’t for the warming effect of the Gulf Stream, the sea and land would be covered by ice a mile or so thick. Hammerfest is a few hours sailing further north and while a night stop is made, it is during daylight on the way south that gave us more time to explore its links with the other arctic explorer, Fridtjhof Nansen. A sculpture version of his sturdy cockle-shell of a boat the ‘Fram’ (Strong), stands as though fixed in ice as it was on his courageous attempt to drift with the ice across the North Pole; in theory it was possible and the Fram’s unique design withstood the massive pressure, but while currents at first took him well towards the pole, they changed direction and he ended in northern Siberia. We were now starting to sail east and into the Barents Sea, where the only land between northern Norway and the North Pole is the bleak isolated archipelago of Spitzbergen, home of polar bears and hardy Russian coal miners. It was about here that we passed our sister ship ‘Lofoten’, a mere 25 years old against our 54. Whenever Hurtigruten ships pass they always salute each other, a charming custom, but this time some younger members of Nordstjernen’s crew decided to attack it with
John Flamsteed England’s First Astronomer Royal
Brian Spencer follows the life of this Denby-born man who went on to be the first Astronomer Royal and set the stage for Greenwich to become the centre of time and space. John Flamsteed was a sickly child, being troubled by arthritic knees and ankles, weak legs, and frequent headaches – conditions that affected him throughout his life. Modern medical thinking suggests he was affected by rheumatic fever, a common illness in those days, tending to recur in different joints. Despite his poor health, Flamsteed went to Derby Free School in St Peter’s Churchyard, Derby. The school has disappeared under the foundations of a shop, but it was here that John gained a foundation into mathematics and science. Worried about his son’s ill health which he claimed was aggravated by conditions at the school, his father withdrew the 14 year-old, but despite his disappointment, John continued his studies at home, teaching himself Latin and reading mathematical treatises – both of which proved useful in his later career. With his understanding of mathematics, he was able to accurately calculate the solar eclipses of 22 June 1666 and 25 October 1668. He sent the data he collated, along with a paper to explain how the position of stars could be fixed by the moon, to the Royal Society, the national academy of science founded by Charles II in 1660. This led to Flamsteed being invited to London around Easter 1670, where he met and was befriended by Sir Jonas Moore, his Majesty’s Surveyor of Ordnance. This meeting and friendship was to influence Flamsteed and change his life for ever. The world was expanding rapidly by the late seventeenth century and with it, wealth from world trade. Britain and France being traditional rivals were competing with each other to expand their colonies, especially in the New World across the Atlantic. Ships sailing to and fro across the Atlantic frequently disappeared through errors in navigation. While it was possible to plot where a vessel was, north or south of a given point (latitude), it was impossible to know where the ship was east or west (longitude) and as a result shipping losses were horrendous, ships could be anything up to 200 miles out on longitude. The answer was to divide the world up into 360 degrees, starting at a given point. Charles II was horrified to discover that Louis XIV of France had stolen the lead by appointing the Italian astronomer G-D Cassini as Director of the Paris Observatory. Something had to be done, and done quickly if Britain was to have its own observatory and, more important, set the zero meridian in order to control ships’ clocks that in turn would identify longitude. The observatory had to be away from London’s polluted air. Fortunately there was crown land rising to a small hill at Greenwich, clearly visible to shipping leaving the Thames, and in addition, it would not cost the cash-strapped king a penny. On 5th June 1674, Flamsteed was awarded a degree at Cambridge, but despite being ordained as a deacon and take holy orders in Derbyshire, the practice at that time, Flamsteed accepted the invitation of Sir Jonas Moore to stay with him in London. Here on 4th March 1675 he was appointed by royal warrant to become ‘The King’s Astronomical Observator’, the first Astronomer Royal, with an allowance of £100 a year. A little over a year later a warrant for building an Observatory at Greenwich was issued, but the cash-strapped king could only allow £500 towards the cost, together with ‘spare bricks from the Tilbury Fort’; and some timber, iron and lead from a demolished gatehouse at the Tower of London. With the foundation stone laid a month later, the building was up to roof level by Christmas. Despite the king’s promise to provide more money, nothing extra was forthcoming, but fortunately the observatory came in at only £20.9s.1d over budget. The main part of the observatory was designed by Sir Christopher Wren, the architect of St Paul’s Cathedral. Flamsteed was given an apartment on the ground floor, designed as he put it, for his ‘habitation and a little for pompe’. This room was called the Great Star Room (now called the Octagon Room), but most of Flamsteed’s observations were carried out in a small sextant house in the garden. Appointed as a Fellow of the Royal Society, Flamsteed moved into the completed Observatory on 10th July 1676, aged only 28 years, along with two assistants, Smith and Denton. His job description was to ‘forthwith apply himself with the most exact care and diligence to the rectifying of the tables of motion of the heavens, and the places of the fixed stars, so as to find the so-much-desired longitude of places for the perfecting of the art of navigation’. Settled at Greenwich, he began work on measuring the distances between stars by using a sextant, the only equipment available at that time. Remarkably and despite using such a basic instrument, his measurements were reasonably accurate. On 12th December 1680 Flamsteed observed for the first time a great comet which was generally held by others – including Sir Isaac Newton, the scientist – to be two closely aligned comets. This difference of opinion over the so-called twin comets and other observations, led to a quarrel between Newton and Flamsteed, a quarrel that brought in Edmond Halley the predictor of a comet that regularly visits the earth. Recognised as the greatest scientist of the time, Newton, who it is said, developed his theory of gravity by watching an apple fall while resting in his Grantham orchard, was a difficult man to deal with socially. Irritable, spiteful and often paranoid, he was basically a lonely man who demanded rather than earned respect. His relationship with Flamsteed broke down when the latter refused to publish his astronomical observations, which Newton needed for a lunar theory he was working on. Flamsteed’s refusal to publish was reasonable as he wanted
