Fourteen days in Bayraklı

We are staying in Bayraklı, a suburb of Izmir. Our apartment, home for 2 weeks is on the 10th floor of a futuristic 47 storey tower. The Folkart Towers are an identical pair with supermarket, Starbucks, restaurants, bars and car showrooms on the ground floor. The view over northern Izmir and out to sea is amazing.   

 

 

The towers seem to create their own micro-climate. Being 200 metres tall, they are sometimes exposed to stronger winds at a higher level than on the ground floor. Winds, hitting the building are deflected downwards. They whistle and howl around the building and one feels the need to wrap up warm when going outside.  Only 100 metres away, all is still and the heat of the sun is undisturbed.

The wide pavement outside our tower is home to four large, homeless dogs that laze about in the sun. They keep the numerous feral cats to the other side of the busy street where they loiter around the neighbourhood camii or mosque. Yesterday, a boy, about 10 years old gave a loud whistle which sent the dogs scurrying away. They were obviously old aquaintances. As the lad joinded a young friend they made their way up the street trying various mopeds and scooters for size.

 

 

The narrow streets (or Sokaks) opposite, consist of old, poor qualty housing packed into a confined space. Here, tiny shops, cafes and hairdressers manage to scrape a living. Boys play football in the street and the ball lands at my feet as I pass. I decline the obvious invitation to join in. I'm getting too old for a kick about. In the next street two women have placed a couple of old sofas under a tree. They are accompanied by three youngsters, perhaps their grandchildren. Their evening meal is cooking on an open fire.

Beyond these streets are more modern developments. A large hospital, offices shops and apartments. Everywhere, coffee shops are to be found. Near the hospital, three large establishments sit side by side, devoid of customers. The numerous hairdressers, barbers, beauty salons and nail bars, on the other hand, all do a roaring trade. Life goes on through the night,  for a large restaurant offers kebaps, pide, pizza and burgers around the clock. A fleet of motorcycles makes home deliveries.

We sat yesterday at our favourite coffee shop watching the world go by. A man with an electric vehicle, rather like a motor rickshaw, did his round of businesses, collecting cardboard packaging for recycling. A boy, no more than about 8 or 9, off school for the public holidsy delivered bag after bag of bread and fruit to nearby catering establishments. 

 

 

Then came the cry of a hawker who eventually appeared, draped in large Turkish flags. He did sell three to a woman from the fashion studio opposite. As we walked home, we realised flags and pictures of Ataturk were appearing everywhere. The 29th October is Republic Day, the most important public holiday and celebration of the year. The day commemorates the occassion, 101 years ago when Kemal Mustapha (Ataturk) declared Turkey a republic, thus endjng the Osmanli Empire which had been decimated by the World War. Large parades, fireworks and music are anticipated.

 

 

The suburban railway station is a 10 minute walk from our apartment and trains are frequent. It is only a short ride into Alsancak, one of the city centre districts. Our pre-charged public transport cards are scanned on entry to the station; an efficient and simple system. Alsancak is a busy shopping area as well as being a centre for entertainment. There are numerous restaurants, bars and clubs catering for a diverse range of interests and tastes. Leaving the station, we join a large and growing crowd who wait patiently in order, when the traffic police make up their minds, to cross the busy road. The route to the waterfront is lined with restaurants offering varieties of kebaps and many shops selling all kinds of tourist tat. All is intended for local consumption for it is unusual to see a foreign visitor here. One wonders though, who would buy this rubbish or wear those luridly coloured clothes. 

 

 

At the waterfront, all is calm. Plenty of people sit enjoying the warm sunshine and a traditionally dressed woman tries to sell flowers to the visitors. Ferries frequently shuttle backwards and forwards taking passengers to the outer suburbs on the northern shore.

Izmir is an important port, located on a large sheltered inlet of the Aegean Sea. Three tug boats fussed around an inbound tanker and guided her to her berth.

Interesting to see another part of Izmir but a pleasure to return to the relative peace of Bayraklı.

 

Cats are everywhere. They think they rule the streets and go where they please. They will sit at your feet while you enjoy a meal in a restaurant or stand in your way in the supermarket aisle. Nobody ever moves them on. Today, in the bazaar, a black cat stalked a large dog which looked cowed and scared. Some market traders looked on and one went to comfort and reassure the homeless kopek. Only the crows get the better of these cats. They brazenly taunt the felines which skulk away in defeat.

The bazaar incident took place in the street of Optik traders. Whether these are opticians or just dealers in glasses is uncertain but they are all gathered together in a corner of the market, there must be about 20 of them all in close competition. Selling glasses can be very profitable.

Likewise, much money is to be made from matrimony. On the road leading from our apartment are 5 or 6 wedding venues. These are large gardens laid out with tables and chairs arranged around a canopied platform. Associated buildings provide catrring and other facilities. Every weekend these gardens fill with wedding guests and loud music fills thd air, sometimes a dreadful cacophony as the different sites try to outdo each other. These events are supported by the shops of Gazi Bulvari where dozens of outfitters offer wedding dresses and shiny men's suits. Thèse large expensive looking shops sit side by side on both sides of this broad tree lined street, all in neighbourly competition. One wonders just how many weddings they have here in Izmir.

 

Saturday afternoon and plenty of people were out enjoying the sunshine on Izmir's north shore. As usual, there were many who tried to earn money from the visitors. Coloufully dressed women offered flowers to sell, a makeshift cart carried coffee and tea and a man in a wheelchair had little packets of tissues. Bottled water, cool from a chiller box found a ready market but it was the young boy with helium fiĺled balloons who found the most custom. He started with so many that he must have been at risk of taking to the skies.

 

 Another line of balloons bobbing on the water, seemed to have something to do with the fishermen lining the shore. One man was having a long conversation on his mobile phone when his rod started to bend. It took some time to reel in and quite an audience had gathered around. Finally a large plaice like fish was flapping about on the surface. It would have made a fine meal but the fisherman, happy with his catch, spared its life.

 

 

The Kemeralti Bazaar in Izmir seems vast. It's narrow streets are like a rabbit warren and once inside it feels impossible to escape. There must be hundreds of stalls selling clothing, fresh fruit and vegetables, freshly caught fish and the inevitable souvenirs. Cafes offer hot drinks and a kebap menu whilst stalls selling freshly squeezed fruit juice are never far away. 

 

 The streets are just wide enough for the occassional vehicle but hand carts are the usual transport for making deliveries. Motorbikes too deliver goods, brushing shoppers aside to make way.

Homeless cats loiter around the fish market waiting for the opportunity to steal a tasty meal while their canine counterparts laze in sunny courtyards.

 

 

Between the Bazaar and the sea is Konak Meydani, the main square of Izmir. The elaborately decorated clock tower was built in 1901 although it looks much older. Nearby is a diminutive mosque, the Konak Camii built in 1755.

Konak Iskele is only a short distance away and from here, ferry boats make regular crossings to Bostanli and Karsikiya on the norther shore. It's only a 15 minute crossing but the passengers are entertained by a couple of young men singing traditional folk songs.

 

 

Most cars are white and of similar style. More than 50%. A further 25% are grey. Renault and Volkswagens are most popular. It seems that white cars are considerably less expensive and easier to sell second hand. They reflect the sunlight so tend to be cooler inside. So identical white cars are everywhere. How ever do they know which are their own.

The north shore of Izmir is quieter than the south. The waterfront is laid out with parks and gardens for a considerable length and these feature a number of monuments including a group of dolphins rising from a water feature and busts of notable people. A road leads into the sky, a monument to human rights, dedicated to Olof Palme and Willy Brandt. 

 

 

 The most notable monuments feature Ataturk as they do throughout Turkey. His image is ever preset, watching benevolently over the populace.

 

 

The Next Stop

 

Spath Lane Annie, as she was known to bus crews, travelled daily from Handforth to Manchester. She was elderly and it was said that her daily commute was in order to visit the Housing Department at the Town Hall to berate them for rehousing her in Handforth. We never heard if she won her argument for a return to the city but after several years as a regular traveller, she disappeared from the scene and the Handforth public could breathe easily again. Annie would always push her way to the front of the queue in order to claim her seat on the nearside front row. Woe betide anybody who dared occupy it.

The woman standing at the bus stop opposite The Rex in Wilmslow didn't seem to know whether to stop the bus or not but we pulled up anyway. Are you waiting for the bus?, I asked. well, I don't know, I am staying at the Stanley Hotel. Come aboard then, we're going your way. I collected her fare but had to tell her when she had arrived even though she was looking at the hotel through the window. Dora Bryan proved to be just as unworldly in real life as in the roles that she played on stage and screen.

It was at the Spath Lane stop in Handforth where we pulled up one day on the way to Manchester to let three passengers and a dog aboard. I assumed the black labrador was with one of the people until it took its own seat towards the back of the bus. It stared out of the window and completely ignored my attempts to move it. Only as we reached The Griffin at Heald Green did it leave the seat; it had arrived at its destination. My driver, John Platt told me that when he had been based at Stockport, he often drove on the 358 route to Hayfield. Every day, a dog would be waiting at Birch Vale. The drivers all knew the dog and would always stop. Attached to its collar was a small purse containing a few coins. The conductor would take the appropriate fare and leave a ticket in exchange. The dog rode to Hayfield where after a brief look around he would wait for the next bus home.

Back at Heald Green on another occasion, I could see a woman struggling to board the bus. She had stepped on to the platform with two heavy bags but her shopping trolley was still at the kerbside. I carried it aboard but even I strained to lift it. What have you got in there, I quipped, house bricks ? She opened the lid to show me that it was indeed full of bricks !

Breakdowns weren’t uncommon and sometimes gave a welcome break from routine. On one occasion, I was working with driver Jack Plant on the 29 route into Manchester. We reached the southern end of Upper Brook Street before we realised that we could travel no farther. We transferred our passengers to a Selnec No 50 and phoned for help. It was clear that it would be a good while before relief arrived but fortunately we had stopped opposite the Plaza Cafe. This establishment was renowned for its biryanis and was popular with students. They provided us with a welcome cup of coffee. Refreshed, we returned to the bus to wait for help but not before exploring an adjacent derelict house. It was awaiting demolition but it was evident that it had been recently occupied. In the back yard were two “mountains”, one of wine bottles, the other of dog food cans. The occupants hadn’t followed a healthy diet !

One evening in January 1976, we set out from Macclesfield for Manchester on the 29 route. The weather was dreadful and we saw very few passengers. Reaching the motorway bridge on Manchester Road in Cheadle, my driver stopped to compare notes with the crew of the inbound service. The bus, a single decker, was rocking so violently that it felt as though it would be lifted off of the bridge. We made it safely to Piccadilly but as we left and turned into Portland Street, sheets of corrugated iron were flying through the air at head height. These were the hoardings from the Arndale Centre, then under construction on Market Street. We reached Alderley Edge where we were stopped by police who told us that the road ahead was blocked by fallen trees. Our journey back to Macclesfield was completed by taking the Wizard route. Despite the hurricane “Capella” we returned early to the Bus Station.

Frank was a pleasant, inoffensive man but his earlier mental health problems meant that he could sometimes be a touch erratic. On one journey out of Macclesfield, I was still collecting fares when I realised that the bus had come to a standstill. We were in Longacre Street which, although parallel to our correct route, was too narrow for a big green double decker. Despite all else, Frank was a skilled driver and eventually managed to manoeuvre the bus around a very tight turn. Another day, we had arrived in Cheadle 10 minutes early. I told Frank that we would have to wait our time but he was having nothing of it. “You want a cup of tea in Town don’t you? Leave it to me and you’ll be alright” We arrived in Piccadilly nearly 20 minutes before time and left 5 minutes late. Plenty of time for a brew and nothing more was said.

Crosville in their wisdom, sent a diminutive single decker from Chester to relieve a vehicle shortage at Macclesfield. I can’t remember what model it was but it was probably an old Bristol. It was a curiosity and was soon dubbed “A Puddle Jumper”. It was parked at the back of the garage, unwanted and of little use. A few days later, I was spare conductor and heard that a bus had broken down and we needed to pick up school children from Nether Alderley School. This was a “one man” duty and neither I, nor the driver knew the route. “Take the Puddle Jumper, it’s all I’ve got” said Neville, the garage driver. We protested but he was determined that we should take it. We headed out towards the Wizard and had been told that a left hand turning lead down towards the school. The road we took however, led us through some huge ornamental gates where we were faced with the home owner driving out in his Bentley. It must have been quite a shock for him to come face to face with this green monster which was rapidly becoming enveloped in a cloud of steam as the radiator overheated. We managed to extricate ourselves and limp down to the school. We eventually completed the journey but I don’t suppose the engine suffered too much.

The bane of every busman’s life was Miss Johnson. An elderly woman who travelled regularly from Bollington to Macclesfield. On arrival at the bus station, her first call was invariably at the office in order to register her latest complaint. Her role in life – to make everybody as miserable as herself.

 

I worked as a  bus conductor from  the Macclesfield garage of Crosville Motor Services from about 1972 until 1979 when all remaining services converted to one man operation.

Back In The Seventies

Ginny McDermott grew up in Furness Vale and has kindly sent us some photographs from  the early 1970s. The Sports Day was held on the Football Field in 1972. We can see the school, and houses on Buxton Road, because the flats had not yet been built.

A wintry view of Yeardsley Hall.

 Looking towards Buxworth from Ringstones Farm. Apart from losing a little more of its roof, the small stone building in the field, looks much the same fifty years later.

 Double stamps at the Garage which displays the Start Motors sign. On the right we can see Lavin's  butchers shop and Barbara Griffith's shop at the corner of Station Road.
 

 
Belisha Beacons guard the zebra crossing. The Co-op had closed and Riddicks were using the building as their office. A red sign on the lamp post, points to the station.

The Romeiros of Sao Miguel

The sound of men singing echoed between the houses just about dawn on Saturday. A return from a night long celebration perhaps or maybe some soldiers returning to the barracks at the top of the street?  No, this was too melodic and harmonious.

The same song was heard later that day as we waited for a bus, Looking up we saw a large group of men and youths climbing the church steps. They each carried a staff, capped with a brass cross, scarf around the neck, shawl on the shoulders and a bag on the back. As they entered the church, the staff was left at the door and the singing quietened.

The Romeiros, the pilgrims of Sao Miguel island. Each year at the end of February, they gather in groups, many are returned emigrees from around the World. For seven days, dawn till dusk, they walk the roads and tracks of the island, visiting in turn each of the churches and chapels. The island is encircled in a clockwise procession whist the Ave Maria is sung.  Each evening they are given shelter and a meal in a family home. Their bag of food for the next day's march is replenished. Some have made the pilgrimage for many years, for others it is a one time event. All have the same deep faith to follow this age old tradition. The pilgrimages started in the 16th century to seek through prayer, deliverence from the volcanic eruptions of the islands which were then thought to be the retribution of God. 

 

The King of Fruits

The pineapple played an important role in the history of Ponta Delgada in the Azores. Images of the fruit appear in the mosaic pavements in the eastern part of the city where it is still cultivated.

 

Orange farming was a staple industry of the Azores in the 19th century and the fruit was exported in large quantities. When the citrus groves became decimated by concave gum disease, plantation owners sought an alternative crop.

The pineapple had been introduced to the islands in the 17th century, brought from central America by Portuguese navigators. They were grown for the landed gentry as a curiosity but gradually farmers  perfected methods of cultivation.

The first commercial greenhouse was built in 1864 and was able to support 800 plants. By the early 20th century, 4300 greenhouses had been built and the pineapple was Sao Miguel Island's main export crop.

The Azores are too far north for outdoor cultivation and the greenhouses of whitewashed glass are used to re-create the natural conditions for growing the fruit. 

First the soil is prepared to create a "hot bed" using a mixture of firewood, earth, sawdust and ground incense. Natural decomposition produces the heat inside the greenhouses that the plants need to grow. Four months after planting, the smoking process begins. Wood chips and leaves are burned each evening producing a thick smoke. The following morning the houses are ventilated and this process continues for 8 to 10 days. The result of this cycle is that the plants all flower simultaneously. Growing a Sao Miguel pineapple takes between 18 and 24 months.





A number of the remaining plantations now depend upon tourism to support their business. Visitors are offered free tours and have the opportunity to buy pinapples and related products from the gift shops. There are still hundreds of greenhouses on the island, mostly in the south which has the warmer climate.

 

The Stubborn Turret of the Azores

One feature of the countryside of Sao Miguel Island in the Azores is the dry stone walls of black basalt. This volcanic rock is seen throughout the island and is the most common building material. The lanes high above Ponta Delgada are lined with these walls, sometimes as high as four metres. Occasionally these are broken by an arched doorway or a window giving evidence of a former building. They are only softened by the profusion of spring flowers such as lilies, nasturtiums or hydrangeas which line the roads. 

Emerging into the village of Fajã de Baixo we came across the strangely named "Stubborn Turret" or "O Torreão das Teimosas". Derelict atop a small hill, this tower is little known except for the image carved into its walls by local artist, Vhils. "Sweet hug blessed by the moon" the face and arms of a woman, was created as part of Walk and Talk, a public art festival.
The tower was built in the nineteenth century from the period of Portuguese romanticism for lawyer and politician Henrique Ferreira da Paula Medeiros as a place of leisure and retreat. The tower is part of the Quinta do Torreão, all of which is now in ruins. The entrance from the road is flanked by two derelict buildings one of which had been a house. The top of the tower would have afforded views over the surrounding countryside and out over the nearby Atlantic. Although an empty shell, one can still trace the flights of stairs that rose through three floors.  The outer staircase is now degraded to a grassy ramp leading to the second floor.

Lucette and The Dunkenhalgh Hotel

Despite spending a weekend at the Dunkenhalgh Hotel,  we failed to see the spectre of Lucette.  Dunkenhalgh Hall was built at the end of the 12th century by Roger De Dunkenhalgh. The house is located between Rishton and Clayton Le Moors in Lancashire and by 1712 had passed into the ownership of the Petre family. The 9th Baron, Lord Robert Edward Petre, a member of the Catholic nobility was exceptionally wealthy with property in Mayfair, and estates in three counties. In 1778, a young Frenchwoman named Lucette was engaged as governess to the Petrie children. Lucette fell in love with a Dragoon Captain named Starkie and soon became pregnant. He abandoned her, sailking to America to fight in the War of Independence. Lucette could not face the shame of an illegitimate child and drowned herself in the Hyndburn River which flowed through the grounds. Her body was found on Christmas morning and carried back to  the house. 
Lucette has made many appearances since that sad day, most frequently at Christmas time when she has been seen approaching the bridge where she took her life. Both hotel guests and staff have reported seeing the ghost of The Lady in White, either in the grounds or sat at the end of their bed.

Swing Dance

The Lindy Hop was a popular American dance in the 1930s. It came from Harlem, New York in 1928 and was based on jazz, tap and the Charleston in the swing style. The name is believed to have originated from the flight by aviation pioneer Charles Lindbergh who in 1927 "hopped" across the Atlantic. The dance was revived in the 1980s and can still pops up from time to time to this day. The photograph is digitally colourised from a black and white original.

Between The Lines

 

Passengers wait atWingham Colliery Station in Kent in 1919

Trouble in Gloucestershire

 The Trouble House Inn near Tetbury in Glocestershire was built in 1754. Originally known as the Wagon and Horses it was said to be "troublesome" being poorly built and prone to flooding. Troublesome too for its landlords. An early tenant had the misfortune to see several wives die at an early age; the next lost most of his customers to the press gang. There was a landlord who say his father, a priest, defrocked for immorality.  A new owner started renovations but when he ran out of money he hanged himself in desperation. The work was continued but again there were insufficient funds, this owner drowned himsel.. The pub gained its present name in 1856 although troubles have continued in the guise of "The Lady In Blue", a resident ghost who makes a nuisance of herself by moving things around. 

 
When diesel railcars appeared on the local railway branch, a diminutive station was built to serve the pub. The platform at Trouble House Halt was so low that the pub's landlord provided a beer crate to help passengers climb up into the train. The railway closed just 5 years later in 1964 and the landlord made a coffin which was taken aboard the last train with all due ceremony. Filled with empty whisky bottles, it was carried by bowler hatted mourners. Progress of the train was held up though by a barricade of burning hay bales.

Black Dogs of Wiltshire 

Black Dog Halt, a little known station in Wiltshire was opened in 1863 at the behest of Lord Lansdowne. A private station, it served nearby Bowood House, home of the 5th Marquess who had his own reserved compartment on the local train from Tetbury. Black Dog Halt was provided with a siding from where valuables were transferred to Lansdowne House, his Lordship's London home.  The station didn't appear in the timetable until 1952 although it was always available to the public.  During World War I, the outbuildings were used by the army and on one occasion the Cabinet met in a carriage parked in the siding.. Lord Lansdowne was a Government minister serving as Secretary of State for War and Foreign Secretary as well as Governor General of Canada and Viceroy of India.

Wiltshire, like many parts of England has legends of black dogs, ghostly hounds with dripping fangs and flashing eyes. The Black Dog Inn, named after a spectral hound, had closed well before the coming of the railway, but still gave its name to the station as well as to a nearby hill. 

The station closed in 1965 along with the branch line to Calne.

Hauled by a donkey

The branch line to Delph in Lancashire was only just over a mile in length from the junction near Greenfield. It was served by trains from Oldham Clegg Street.

The train was popularly known as "The Delph Donkey" so named because a legend stated that the first trains in 1851 comprised a single carriage pulled by a donkey. The last train in 1955, carrying over 500 people,  was met at Delph by a donkey.

The penultimate station had the curious name of Measurements Halt. Opened in 1932, only one train called in each direction, transporting workers to the Measurements Factory. This was a business that began making clocks and watches under the "Limit" brand. As trade grew, the company diversified into making optical and aircraft instruments, radio sets, counters and gas meters. Taken over by Parkinson Cowan, the factory closed in the 1970s.

Delph Donkey passes Measurements Halt

Orchids, Straw Hats  and The War Cry

Sander and Sons of St Albans grew orchids in such quantities that they needed a railway siding for speedy transport to market. Established in 1881, Sanders produced up to 2 million orchid plants a year in their 60 greenhouses. A large team of collectors explored Asia and South America seeking new plants.  Seeds were produced in large numbers in their conservatories. 
A private station, a single wooden platform, opened in 1897 for the convenience of their staff. It only appeared in the public timetable between 1929 and 1942.
Nearby was the printing works of the Salvation Army whose employees also used the tiny halt.  It came to be known as Salvation Army Halt and continued in use until the railway between Hatfield and St Albans closed to passengers in 1951. Sander's Siding was used to despatch large quantities of Salvation Army periodicals such as "War Cry" which were distributed around the world.  Luton, not far distant, was renowned for the manufacture of straw hats. These were carried to Sander's siding from where they were despatched to London.

A Great Northern Railway Orchid Van

For Baptist End and Bumble Hole

If one changed trains at Blowers Green Station in Netherton, the branch line to Old Hill journeyed through the heart of the Black Country. This was the quaintly named Bumble Hole Line and passed through stations such as Baptist End, Windmill End and Darby End.
This was a heavily industrialised area criss crossed with canals. Manufacturing included nails, chains, ship's anchors, boilers cranes and furnaces. Coal was mined and clay dug from large pits.

The first station was at Baptist End, a district that perhaps took its name from the Baptists who had met here since 1654. One of the many chapels had the delightful name of "Sweet Turf Chapel". It is said that adherents were baptised in the local canal, the waters being warmed by industry.

Windmill End Station was in the district known as Bumble Hole. The origin of the name is uncertain although in the clay pit was a shed housing a steam hammer. It made a clanking "bum-hul" noise, a name which perhaps became corrupted. The dialect survey however, defines Bumble Hole as being an ash midden behind an earth closet.

Next was Darby End, probably named after the prominent Darby family although another suggestion refers to nail-makers from Derbyshire. In the 19th century the area became known as "Darby Hand"

Stations on this line were platforms made out of old sleepers and offered very basic passenger accomodation. Traffic was light and trains were seldom of more than a single coach. Extensive mining subsidence resulted in an uncomfortable ride. The line closed in 1964 by which time there was only one train outside the morning and evening peak. A guard at the time said of the 6.30pm train "If we get one passenger on this particular train, that's as many as we'll ever get. We may get him twice a week and he usually gets off at Windmill End".

Bumble Hole

Twice A Week To Poison Cross

  Eastry is an ancient village near Sandwich in Kent. Here in the 7th century was the palace of the Saxon King Egbert of Kent and here, two young princes, Ethelbert and Ethelred were murdered. Eastry Court is the oldest house in Britain. Behind a Georgian facade, an inner hall dates back to the year 603. In the 9th century it became an abbey and it is said that having fallen out, the monks murdered each other giving rise to the name "Poison Cross"
There is an extensive network of caves and one legend claims that Thomas a'Becket hid underground in 1164 waiting to escape to France.

Railway bridge under construction. Eastry 1911

Eastry is only a village, yet it once had three railway stations.  The East Kent Railway was built between 1911 and 1925, largely to serve the developing Kent coalfield. Poison Cross Station opened in May 1925 and for the first year trains only called on a Saturday. Thereafter, two trains ran on Wednesday and Saturday until the station closed in November 1928. Passengers on this private railway were of secondary importance a coach being added to a goods train. Wagons were shunted at each station making a mockery of the timetable. In order to make up time, the drivers would often pass stations without stopping even when passengers were waiting.

End of the line. Passengers wait for the train in 1919

Wrong Side of the River

 Not far out of Lincoln, the village of Fiskerton was served by a station called Five Mile House. The station however, was on the wrong side of the River Witham and until a footbridge was built in 1957, passengers had to cross by a chain ferry, operated by the railway.  The station took its name from a  riverside pub which catered for boat traffic and which also served as part of the station.

In 1919 a spark from a passing train set the station alight. Station Master's House, Waiting Room, Office and Signal Box were all destroyed. They were later replaced by two huts.

The station closed in 1958 although for the follwing six years a train called each Saturday, a fishermen's special from Sheffield.

The Five Mile House Ferry

Baubels and Beads

The History of a German Glassmaking Industry

The Fichtelgebirge is a district of Upper Franconia, a region in the eastern part of the State of Bavaria. This is a mountainous country, deeply forested where small villages and towns dot the hillsides. It is a land that earns its living from farming and logging.

Fichtelgebirge was once home to an extensive cottage industry, that of glassmaking. The product of the workshops or "glashutte" as they were known was principally glass beads, buttons and christmas tree decorations. Most glashutte were small family run businesses although a few workshops did employ a considerable number of people.  The history of local glassmaking may be traced back to the 16th century when the first glashutte was established in the town of Bischofsgrun.

The glashutte illustrated below housed the works of Christian Hermann established in 1882. It is now a private house. At its peak, the glass works employed more than 30 people and its output was 18,000 glass beads per day. Much of this production was for export especially for markets in America and Africa, particularly to Ethiopia. The glass was coloured using a variety of minerals such as lead, arsenic, copper, nickel and proterobas a dark green stone found locally on the slopes of the Ochsenkopf mountain.

The largest works was that of Greiner & Co founded in Bischofsgrun in 1857.Their production was largely for export markets all over the world. The glasshutte was the last in Bischofsgrun to close, in 2004.

At the other end of the scale was the works of the Kaiser Brothers, Karl and Fritz. Their speciality was christmas tree decorations. It was here in Bischofsgrun that the method of silver plating the glass baubles, was pioneered. The process was invented by Dr Hartwig Weiskopf in 1853 and employed by the Kaisers. Although they sold products throughout Upper Franconia, most of the stock went to the shop in their own home.




A marked footpath starts in Bischofsgrun and extends several kilometres passing through the towns and villages associated with this industry. Information boards along the way tell the history of each former glass works that one passes.  Small museums in Bischofsgrun and Fichtelberg exhibit examples of
the products of the glashutte including decorative glass vessels from the 17th century..

The town of Bischofsgrun and the Ochsenkopf Mountain

The former glashutte of Christian Hermann

A selection of glass beads

Manufacturing Christmas tree decorations

Silver plated Christmas tree baubles