LeadFarmer

Sheffield History Member
  • Content count

    54
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

1 Neutral

About LeadFarmer

  • Rank
    Sheffield History Pro
  1. Have you contacted Norton History Group?
  2. I remember as a kid back in the 70's my mum would do the Friday big shop in Challenge supermarket. I remember I always picked up a Ski yoghurt and asking if we could have it, but my mum always said no as she bought cheaper branded yoghurts instead. I would also pick up a tub of salmon spread (with a layer of fat and a paper film on top) but again she usually said no, as it was too expensive. Also remember driving down the slope to the left of the building to access the car par at the rear. It was a case of checking that there wasn't a car about to drive up first. There was also a roundabout outside the building, at the junction of City Rd/Prince of Wales Rd/Ridgeway Rd.
  3. I drive past this every day but have never visited. Yet.
  4. Which road are these posts on please?
  5. Thats sad. So im guessing the wall allowed deer to jump down into the park, but prevent them from getting back up, effectively trapping them for hunting purposes?
  6. I never knew that, and im local to that area. Ive just had a look at them on Google street view and noticed the information board at junction with Churchdale Rd. I shall have a ride over there this week to see them.
  7. Im sure I read that the trees that line Oxford St near Crookes are memorial trees?
  8. Demolition of Norton College near Meadowhead is now well under way, but a few weeks ago, knowing that the site was to be demolished for a new shopping centre, I snapped a few photos of the empty buildings before they disappeared forever.. What I assume was the caretakers house? Entrance to the swimming pool reception is via the steps in the far right corner, by the litter bin.. The rear of the site.. Front of site facing Bochum Parkway dual carriageway.. Taken a few days later as they start ripping up the trees, the chainsaw guy said they were all going to the incinerator.. I took the following photos back in January 2016 when taking my son to swimming lessons. Heres a view of the approach to the swimming pool, accessed by walking between the buildings and past the LR Defender.... When I used the swimming pool as a kid back in the 80's the blacked out window you can see in this photo was a viewing window for parents to watch their kids.. And finally a photo of the swimming pool in use, taken in Jan 2016. Probably the last photo ever taken of the pool??? All I can say is it felt uncomfortable taking this photo, but I wanted to capture it whilst the pool was still open. As a parent watching your kid swim, it was always boiling hot in there. By this point, the male changing rooms and toilets were pretty disgusting, and smelt strongly of urine. Its sad to see the pool now gone as have memories of swimming there as a kid, but it was now past its best.
  9. A Christmas 322 years ago An Incident At Sheffield Castle. Curious things happen at times, and a curious thing happened to me. I am a man of lonely tastes. I dwell alone, in a street in Sheffield I will not name, but it is an old street, and it's belies it's surroundings. My house is a small one. I should not speak the truth if I said it was a clean and tidy house, for it is neither the one nor the other. The firegrate is full of ashes, the furniture is broken, the tabletop is nearly black, and all the chairs save one are piled up with old newspapers and old books. In the corner of the room by the fireplace there are more books, and an old desk of my mothers. Behind the door there are books in a heap, and in the corners of the stairs leading to my bed room there are again books filling every angle. Into my bedroom I will not introduce you, gentle reader, for even I am ashamed of that bundle of rags which form my nightly couch. But why dwell on these points? I only mention them to show that under some disadvantages I have cultivated a literary taste. I have picked up books by odd ones at a time from those baskets that stand at second-hand booksellers doors marked "fourpence" or "sixpence". I need not tell you that occasionally a treasure is found in these baskets. I have known a worthy clergyman pick out a fourpenny lot a book for which he would not take £10. Another friend of mine once secured for sixpence a book of manuscript sermons written by the Apostle of the Peak, and it remains to this day one of the choicest treasures of his collection. Such was their luck. Now let me tell you of mine. The event happened some years ago, and the place was the Norfolk Market Hall. I was turning over the sixpenny basket at the door of the bookseller on the right hand side as you go down the market. I forget the mans name, but he had a wooden leg, and was well known among us book fanciers in those days. Of course there was the usual assortment of rubbish, but one book caughht my eye. It was not very large, say about the size of a sheet of note paper, and the binding was of parchment-limp and soiled. It was a manuscrpt book. A number of the earlier leaves had been torn out and a number of those at the end of the book had never been written on. But on a page numbered "102" I made out the words "Chapter V. Christmas at Sheffield Castle." The writing was old fashioned, but fairly legible, and might have belonged to the 17th century. I fancied I had secured a prize, but not wishing to disclose my luck to the bookseller, I quietly paid my sixpence and walked away. When I reached .......street the dusk of evening had set in. I lighted my fire, boiled my kettle, and mashed a cup of tea in a broken basin. Then I lighted a candle, and with a little care succeded in reading the following fragment of what was a longer manuscript. I hazard no guess as to the authorship, but it relates a striking incident I never yet met with in history:- CHAPTER V. Christmas Time. The bells of the old Parish Church at Sheffield were ringing a merry peal as morning dawned on Christmas Day, 1570. A fall of snow had covered every object with a clean white dress, and lay in the streets untrodden except by the feet of the waifs, who had been singing their Christmas carols. At the castle gates a group of persons vociferously proclaimed their good wishes, and were eager to be admitted before any of the inmates could cross the threshold, that good luck might rest on the lord's household during the coming year. They wondered at the delay in throwing open the great portals, for the Earls of Shrewsbury had never been slack to do honour to the hospitable season of Christmas ; but then they had not in times gone by borne the responsibility of the charge of the captive queen. The earl had to be more circumspect than before in admitting strangerrs to his castle, and had given special orders that none but well known tennants should be allowed to enter at the morning greeting, and even these should on no account pass beyond the outer court. At last the wicket opened, and the old porter allowed those whom he knew to step one by one through the narrow door, and enter the yard. The number anxious to show this mark of attention was greater on this Christmas morning than usual, for there had been a vague impression that possibly they might see the Queen of Scots, about whom so much curiosity was felt in the town. In this hope they were disappointed, but the earl soon gave them an opportunity of offering their congratulations to himself, and dismissed them to the buttery, where an ample supply of strong ale and cheese was at their service. Among the party was John Hodkin, the woodman, who had come thus early to the castle as the bearer of a letter with which he had been entrusted by Father Fripp, to convey to Master Rollet, the Queens secretary, as opportunity should serve. Hodkin felt the burden of his grave responsibility, and was more awkward in his manners than usual, but he was looked upon as a harmless, simple old man, and nobody troubled themselves about his fidgetivness. He saw nothing of Master Rollet in the courtyard, nor in the buttery, but just as he was about to give up his task in despair, he noticed a youth beckoning him towards the retainerrs lodgings. Approaching the door by which the young man had entered, he stepped shyly in, and found a page wearing the earl's livery, who hastily asked for the letter. Hodkin was not so unused to the ways of the world as to give up an important document without some proof that he was dealing with the right person, and as defence against importunity he feigned ignorance of the speakers meaning. The page, a young cadet of the Perring family, who had been taken into the service of the earl, and appointed one of the supernumerary attendants on the Queen, whispered in Hodkin's ear a password, and at once recieved from him the missive, which he secured in the folds of his doublet. The two conspirators, or rather the tools of the conspirators promptly separated, flattering themselves that they had effected the transfer of the letter unobserved and each went his own way. Christmas was ever a high day in Sheffield Castle, and the earl had resolved, in spite of the care that now weighed upon him, that the feast in the great hall should be given with traditional splendour. Our forefathers were no laggards a bed, and as they began their days early they were ready for early dinners. It was not one o'clock when the cook's labours were completed, and by that time the members of the household and many of the townsfolk had returned from church, much refreshed with the exordiums of the Rev. Robert Holland, vicar, whose eloquence had been stirred by the presence of the earl and his family. The sermon and the cold air had quickened the appetite of the guests, and as they assembled for dinner the savour of tasty viands was grateful to their nostrils. The grand old dining hall in which so many a noble feast had been spread, was a noble appartment, wainscoted with oak and hunng with family portraits. Across the upper end on a raised dias stood the earl's table, while those for the guests of superior rank were ranged on a common level down the room. At one side of the hall was a small gallery that might be occupied by musicians, or by ladies not taking part in the boisterous revelry that sometimes succeded the generous libations of ale poured out at baronial feasts. On this day it had been arranged by the earl that his prisoner should enjoy so much of the Christmas revelry as was possible from the elevation of this gallery, and though his anxiety for her safety would not allow him to introduce her to the banqueting hall, he was willing to enliven her monotonous life by allowing her to watch the fun from the gallery. A Lord of Misrule had been appointed to conduct the Christmas festivities, but his glories had been sadly shorn, and his jusisdiction restricted by the peculiar necessities of the case. The earl had selected for this office Lawrence Fox, as one of the blithest of the youth on his estate and the son of his staunch and loyal tenant at Fulwood Hall. Had he known how the meshes of the Jesuit were being woven around him he would as soon have given the authority of misrule into the hands of Queen Mary herself, but knowing none of these things he placed on the head of Lawrence the mock crown, and put in his hand as a sceptre the fool's bauble that usually formed the wand of office of this singular personage. It had been stipulated by the earl that Lawrence should not exercise an unchecked sway, but that he should preside only over the revels that were to succeed the dinner which the Queen was to witness from the gallery above. Precisely at one o'clock a loud blast of trumpets announced that the boar's head on a dish of gold ornamented with holly was being borne shoulder high by the sewer and his assistants to the banqueting hall. The company at once formed into procession, at the head of which marched the earl and his sons, Francis, Gilber, Edwar, and Henry. Then came Sir Thomas Cockayne, of Ashford; Master Wortley of Wortley; Master Wilson of Broomhead; Master Perring of the Spital House; Richard Robinson, Captain of the Guard; old William Fox of Fulwood, and a host of others. Scarcely had these reached their places, and while the chorus of their carol- Caput apri defero, Reddus Laudes Domino, was still resounding through the hall another blast of trumpets was heard, and to the sound of music came a procession of ladies headed by Lady Grace Talbot, the earl's youngest daughter, who bore the gilded peackock with his tail displayed in pride, "Food for lovers and meat for lorus." The Countess of Shrewsbury- far famed Bess of Hardwick- followed her stepdaughter, not because of her beauty, but in honour of her rank, and she was supported by her daughter Mary, now Gilbert Talbot's wife, and by a long train of ladies and attendants. As the countess walked up the hall her keen eyes ranged around the room, and seemed to take in at a glance all the arrangements. Her hair was of a redish auburn tint so much affected by modern beauties, and fashionable also in the Court of Queen Elizabeth. In Bess it was doubtless a natural tinge, for the sharpnesss of her temper was quite in accordance with a florid complexion. Her features were regular, though her eyes were rather small, her nose thin and pointed, and her mouth firmly compressed, and surrounded with lines that gave it an expression not calculated to win affection. She wore one of the large ruffs so universal at that time, and her hair was thrown back off her forehead and confined in a jewelled ribbon. Her dress was of velvet, a material that indicated her rank, and was therefore much affected by the proud countess, who was born the daughter of a simple country squire, and owed her rise in life to her own peculiar talents. Resplendens Argus was deposited on the board before the earl, and then the tables were quickly covered with the other viands of the feast. Geese, capons and pheasant, haunches of venison in abundance were there, and carp's tongue pies and fowls and hams. But more than all there was the indespensible furmity, to be either eaten alone or as a sauce with venison or mutton. there was plum porridge, too, served with the best meats, the progenitor of the now universal plum pudding, and mince pies curiously concocted. To the ample provisions the company addressed themselves, much as hungry men in modern times discuss a good dinner, and for some time the only sounds in the room were produced by the clatter of dishes and trenchers, mingled with intermittent muttering of voices. As hunger was appeased, and the wine and ale began to stimulate the brains of the company, occasional peals of laughter broke out above the monotony of sound, and voices augmented as the clang of dishes diminished. At length the time arrived when appetite had been satisfied, and good digestion was the chief desiderations of the company. At no period are men so contended with themselves and with others as after dinner, and the earl's guests formed no exception to the rule. Care appeared to have fled from every face except that of the noble host. His thin features bore a nipped, anxtious expression as he looked up towards the gallery in which the Queen and a few of her ladies had just taken their places, and noted the respectful greetings that passed between her and the company. The countess observed her husbands face and saw that it was troubled. " Why let that woman show herself among the people to win their silly hearts with her witchery?" she said. " I cannot deny her this small indulgance at Christmas time," he replied, " but it does make me uneasy to see her raining down those fascinating smiles." " Uneasy ! Does it! " replied the countess. " you should say jealous, Men are so weak in the presence of her grimaces." " Your taunt is undeserved," said the earl, turning away and wishing with great fervour that his fate had never brought him in contact with the two women who now troubled him. His thoughts, however, were soon turned in another direction. As his conversation with the countess ended a party of mummers entered the hall, and the Lord of Misrule ascended his throne. Raising his voice his mock majesty called upon the new-comers to render homage at his footstool and obtain his permission to perform their mummeries. This they readily did, all the motley group falling down on their knees and kissing the bauble sceptre. A curious set they looked in their absurd attire, and the earl scanned them narrowly as he whispered in the ear of Robinson, the captain of the guard- " I don't see him." " Your lordship is not likely to see him here. He is too old a fox to be caught in our net. But you may rely upon my information. Wild as the project appears they will certainly attempt it." By this time the mummers had risen and were preparing their performance when a disturbance arose at the hall door and several men bearing swords forced their way in and made towards the gallery in which the Queen was standing. The pretended mummers rushed forward towards the dias where the earl was seated, and one of them levelling a pistol fired at his lordship. The whole room was at once in utmost disorder. Robinson with the men he had at hand in anticipation of an attempted rescue threw himself between the earl and the danger that threatened him, but before he could do so the Lord of Misrule had bounded from his throne, and prefacing his remarks by a rather emphatic expression, declared that he ould not see his lord murdered in his own hall for all the queens and priests in Europe. This sudden defection caused some consternation in the ranks of the conspirators, who had counted on th assistance of young Fox, but their embarrassment was augmented when with his mock sceptre he laid the foremost man senseless on the floor. Robinson and his guards with the other attendants of the earl soon dealt with the rest. The Queen, who at the outbreak of the tumult, was preparing to spring from the gallery and fly from the castle in the confusion that was anticipated as a consequence of the assassination of the earl, saw that her hopes were doomed to dissapointment when the pistolier missed his aim and Lawrence Fox proved treacherous to her in being faithful to his lord. She dropped into the chair from which she had risen, and feigning total ignorance of the cause of the disturbance asked to be led back to hr appartments. The festivities in the hall were effectually stopped. Most of the mummers and some of their accomplices were captured, and after a sharp examination by the lord were sent up to Lonon to be dealt with by the Privy Council. Among them weere no persons of superior rank, and the revelations they were able to make were unimportant. The incident showed how daring the friends of the Queen had become, and how necessary it was that no precautions should be omitted if she was to be retained in safe custody.
  10. Thanks for the answer
  11. I drive past this quite often but have never stopped to inspect it. Looks like a type of post box, but does anyone know what it is exactly? (please dont say a yellow grit bin)
  12. There used to be one at Gleadless Townend, on what is now a triangular piece of land outside the Red Lion pub, and houses a now closed public toilet.
  13. Nice find Edmund, thanks.
  14. I dont know, but I think it might have been a pub & hotel in its early days.
  15. Just been browsing images on Picture Sheffield of the Abbey pub, Woodseats. Its changed quite a lot over the years. Heres some before and now pictures, all viewed from Chesterfield Road junction with Abbey Lane. The road has since been widened and straightened..... And heres a view looking back from further down the road, with the Abbey pub in the background behind the poplar trees..