Deeper Into Swallow Caves

My granddad used to tell me a story about a man who used to go into Swallow Caves.



The caves themselves are deep in the wildest part of Blackies Wood. They are not easy to find. But I know where they are and I guess others do because there are always signs that people have been in there. Sometimes they leave marks in chalk on the tunnel walls. I photographed one about three weeks ago.



This bloke that granddad knew used to go down into the depths of the tunnels. It became like an obsessions and granddad said he asked him about why he went down. This man said that there was a woman down there. He used to go and wait in one particular cave. He would put out his lights and wait. He said that he knew she was there in the dark because he heard the rustling of silk. He said that she used to talk to him, whisper to him like the moon and he used to talk about her coming as of the rising of the white moon. Of course he was quite mad. Then one day he went and never came back.

It was assumed that he was drowned or that he simply went too far down and could never get back up again. I understand that in the lower levels they are full of the River Swallow itself as it plunges blind through the limestone tunnels.



I think she's still down there. The white woman who glows like white silk bathed in moonlight. I have a feeling that she's not all together nice.



One day I will go and find her.

Me and Mary Regan

I have decided to give up with Mary Regan. She never phones me. She ignores most of my texts and emails and just when I am forgetting about her, she contacts me and tells me she loves me. She says she can't chat with my on Facebook or reply to my emails because her boyfriend is intensely jealous. What I want to know is, if she loves me, why is she still with him?

Or, does she just say she loves me every now and again to keep me on the hook and keep my adoring her and sending her flowers and poems and things?

Any advice from a woman would be welcome as women are not like blokes and will be able to advise me about their hard hearted bag of tricks to keep men broken hearted.

St George's Day

Here's something I stole from a book:


In the 13th Century, replacing Edward the Confessor, St George became the patron saint of England, but little is known about him save that he lived in the 4th Century and died in Palestine. Although a red rose is often associated with this day, the saint's colour is in fact blue, and it is traditional to wear something blue. St George appears in many Mummers' Plays at Easter and Christmas. He is the patron saint of Norwich. The Cuckoo Fair at Orelton, Hereford and Worcester was held on this day.

April in England

Home Thoughts From Abroad

Oh, to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England--now!

And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops--at the bent spray's edge--
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture!
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children's dower
--Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

More About Blackie's Wood

I remember playing in Blackie's Wood when I was a kid. We used to go as a gang and build camps in there. We'd climb trees and find birds' nests. I would also go there to walk the family dog, but the wood has a strange atmosphere. It's actually pretty big and there are places that I would go that I was sure no one else had gone for a long time.

One of my favourite places was a bend in a small stream. There was a shingle bank in the water where I would sit and watch the minnows and sticklebacks. Occasionally I would ventured deeper to Lindow Pool to find tadpoles and bring them home in a bucket.

They say that a man was drowned in Lindow Pool and that his spirit still haunts it. Len and Geoff Parks go thereabouts fishing for eels at night I know, but no one else in the town would dare venture up there in the woods after nightfall. The spirits of old things are there. And strange people go there to find them.

The photos I have taken show it at its most friendly, but it doesn't always feel as welcoming.

Video

I have been working on a video. I did it in one format and then had to convert it to another so the quality is crapper than I would have hoped.

The Old Toy Shop

There used to be a toyshop in Upper Swallow years ago. I remember my dad let me go there one day during the summer holidays every year and by an Airfix kit. That shop closed down when the owner died of a broken heart from me not buying Airfix kits any more as I had grew up and was more into ferreting.

Then a new toyshop was opened by a German bloke who arrived with his daughter from Nuremburg about five years ago. He is apparently called Mr Rosenkreuz and he is well weird. His daughter is fit though. Apparently called Rosenrot Rosenkreuz. That's a bit of a mouthful. So she gets Rosie.

Old Mr Rosie (the dad) is said to be in that occult society that meets up in the top room of the George and Dragon on Tuesday nights.