Bucks' Panorama of Newcastle, 1745

I was recently, and somewhat reluctantly, dragged into a charity shop in Blaydon by my wife in search of God-knows-what, when I spotted the following for sale for £8:

(click on image to enlarge)

Here's a little zoom-in:

As us sad, mad map-keen enthusiasts know, this is the 1745 panorama of the town of Newcastle as drawn by those prolific topographical engravers/draughtsmen, Samuel & Nathaniel Buck. Well, I couldn't resist, could I? So under the disapproving gaze of my better half, I quickly snaffled it and made my way triumphantly to the car. She's not spoken to me since.

Anyway, here are the brothers in question:

If you want a better image of the Newcastle pic in question (and, perhaps, a close-up of the accompanying text) then the two websites here and here are the places to head. Very nice.

And as for the brothers' backstory - and, indeed, the tale of their Newcastle panorama in particular - I turned to that most excellent of tomes, Newcastle upon Tyne: Mapping the City (see my dedicated blog post). Here's their take on on the subject on pages 53-56. As ever, click on the images to enlarge:

I'm sure the lads who put this superb book together won't mind me reproducing the text, for it is an excellent effort, and essential reading for those interested in the history of this part of the world. It is widely available online if you want to get yourself a copy. Go on, treat yourself.

The question remains, though: what the heck am I going to do with my oversized purchase? I think my wife might have a suggestion....

Charity Update

Above can be seen the acknowledgement of the latest charity donation made from the sale of my books. As you probably know, most of my books are sold for the benefit of my chosen charity, the Great North Children's Hospital, an institution that is based in Newcastle but serves the whole of northern England for all manner of kiddies'-related medical issues.

As a general rule, the books listed in the left-hand column of this blog are sold for the benefit of the GNCH (well, the sale profits anyway!), whilst those to the right are for my own personal benefit. The profit of each book sale is always at least £1, and is usually a bit more, so the above £200 donation amounts to getting on for 200 individual sales. So, a very big THANK YOU to all of you who have helped raise the said amount.

With Gift Aid, the £200 = £250 in reality. And this brings the overall total of charity donations over the past few years to £1,100.

The GNCH's website can be found here.

Donations can be made here.

So, remember that every time you purchase one of my 'charity' local history books, you are helping fund the excellent work of this most laudable organisation. 

And if you've already bought, read and (hopefully) enjoyed on of my tomes, then do consider helping to spread the word by leaving a rating and/or review on Amazon, or giving it a plug on social media.

Thank you!

The Irish Problem

I was recently reminded of a little-known issue that seventeenth century Newcastle (and the North-East in general) had with Irish pirates operating in the North Sea. It's an unlikely story, the fine detail of which must have left old Novocastrians somewhat nonplussed. I covered it briefly in Volume 2 of my book Newcastle-upon-Tyne: Fragments of the Past, which I reproduce below in the hope of tempting you to buy a copy of the same from Amazon! ...

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Ever since the ‘Plantation of Ulster’ in the 1610s, England and Ireland had been consistently at each other’s throats. The Irish Rebellion of 1641 raised the stakes somewhat; and, by the time of the Commonwealth, Oliver Cromwell was itching to get at the Celtic foe. During this time the Irish retaliated in a variety of ways, including, somewhat surprisingly, occasional pirate-like activity off the coast of North-East England.

During 1648, heavily-armed Irish frigates wandered the east coast of England in considerable numbers. The following year was no better, with twenty ships, including many colliers, lost to Irish privateers in the vicinity of Newcastle, as the pirates were to be found “lurking up and down in [the] seas ... [doing] great mischief.” Soon after Cromwell landed at Dublin in August 1649, the problems escalated. Historian Eneas Mackenzie stated in his 1827 history of Newcastle that “at the latter end of the year 1649, mention occurs of several pirates lurking in the northern seas, and committing great depredations in the vicinity of Newcastle.” Then, the following year, there is a report of an Irish frigate attacking a Newcastle ship near Hartlepool, which was successfully repelled by the swift action of the said town’s governor.

As the early 1650s progressed, and Cromwell’s grip on Ireland tightened, the Irish pirate threat to the waters off the North-East coast finally eased.

Relics of Blaydon & Winlaton

As I've already told you, I am in the process of moving house up to Morpeth. This represents quite a wrench for me, as I've always lived and worked within spitting distance of the Tyne and my beloved hometown of Newcastle. For a good couple of decades I lived in the city's west end, then moved over to Winlaton (my wife's native patch), where I spent the next 35 years. Morpeth will be new ground for me, and I'm looking forward to it. In the meantime, I'm stuck between houses in my son's pad in Hazlerigg.

Winlaton and neighbouring Blaydon, then, have had quite a hold on me these past few decades. Whenever I was asked where I lived I always had to reference The Blaydon Races, which usually did the trick. Winlaton, though, is the older of the two settlements, even if it does play second fiddle to its younger brother these days.

From time to time, of course, I would call in at Blaydon Library to see if anything new, history-wise, was lurking. Their stock item of interest in this regard was the head of the statue of Garibaldi, thus:

I'm not sure if you'll be able to read this, but click on the image to improve your chances:

Anyway, the last time I wandered in there I found the little side room open - the first time I'd seen it on open access. So I wandered in for a gander, and found the following strewn around the room, which I think are self-explanatory. Again, click on the images to enlarge them (though I apologise for the poor quality of the 'Garibaldi's legs' image):

I'm not sure why these little treasures are stashed away in a side room, out of normal sight. But I suppose if you want access to them you may simply have to ask at reception. The room in question is a 'community space', so you might find yourself surrounded by schoolchildren or a Pilates class, or whatever, but it's worth the effort for getting sight of a few rare fragments of Tyneside history.

*NEW BOOK* Novocastrian: A Newcastle Memoir

[See end of post for special offer, being a free sample of the book]

Here I am, aged 6½, in my Bukta track suit posing for the camera on Slatyford Lane in the summer of 1971. It was at the bus stop near the junction with Pooley Road if you’re really that interested.

Yes, Denton Burn - and Newcastle’s West End in general - was where I spent the first twenty-odd years of my life, before marriage and other stuff took me elsewhere. Though the suburb was not without its issues, I loved it there; and ever since I’ve never considered living anywhere else other than on Tyneside, within spitting distance of my native parish.

Newcastle-upon-Tyne, then, has formed the central pillar of my life for these past six decades. Not only have I lived, schooled, worked and socialised in its shadow, but I have wasted countless hours watching its football team endlessly struggle for recognition and honours for far too long, too. I have also been an enthusiast of the city’s history for as long as I can remember. I love the place.

Being something of a genealogist, a couple of years ago I sat down and worked out how much of my own personal family history was linked to Newcastle. Turns out that at the time I conducted my mental calculation I was on the eve of the 200th anniversary of my ancestors’ very first appearance in the town: the baptism of my great-great-grandmother at St.Andrew’s Church in May 1824. I paid the church a visit on the exact day of the anniversary as a nod to Elizabeth Hudson’s christening and to the past in general. My family line won’t always be centred on Newcastle, so I thought it worth the effort*.

I then considered it appropriate that I get some of the family’s Newcastle story down on paper. I’d picked up a lot about my family tree over the years, had a pretty good knowledge of the city’s past, and, well, I had actually lived through more than half a century of said history. I thought I’d try to bring it all together: several strands of related stories in one book … for my own satisfaction if nothing else.

It was a good deal more difficult than I’d imagined. It took two years to pull everything together and organise it into a comprehensible read. I got a bit lost in places, probably forgot some bits, and maybe rambled on too much from time to time. I’m not sure how many of you will be interested, but it is out there now in the shape of Novocastrian: A Newcastle Memoir. It’s all about the city’s history over the past couple of centuries, especially those bits that relate to my ancestors’ stories; as well as my own experience of growing up in and around Newcastle in the 1970s and 1980s. And, as I say, there’s a fair few mentions of that bloody football team, too.

Anyway, it’s up there on Amazon if you want to give it a try. There’s no e-book this time, I’m afraid, just the paperback version. And the profits for this one are not (for once!) going to charity - so do help me on my way towards millionaire status 🙂…

* As for future generations, my wife and I were recently delivered of our very first grandchild, a girl, on 30th December 2025, at Northumbria Hospital, Cramlington. So not at Newcastle, then ☹️. Oh, and I should perhaps admit that I have this month moved house to Morpeth - being the furthest point from Newcastle that I have ever lived. Does this, I wonder, amount to a betrayal to my birthplace?

SPECIAL OFFER: If you’d like a free sample extract from the book (the first 16 pages or so, in PDF form), then email me at southwickmick@gmail.com . No catches, and no obligation to buy the whole book, of course!

Newcastle Keep Well Room

On my recent visit to Newcastle Keep (a quite marvellous place, BTW), I turned a corner and was surprised to fall upon the structure's 'Well Room'. How strange - and how wonderful - I thought. This magnificent piece of medieval engineering is accompanied by the following modest information panel:

Now I was going to do a bit of research and find out as much as I could about the keep's life-saving feature, but soon came upon a nice little article from Ales Iles' blog, which rendered my plan somewhat redundant. So do check it out - and indeed have a browse of the rest of Mr Iles' website, where there is plenty to interest the history-mad Novocastrian.

But you really must visit the castle keep for yourself, too, though. Check out their website at www.newcastlecastle.co.uk 

Newcastle Racecourse Teaser

I trust you will excuse me returning to the northern suburbs of Newcastle again for my latest post. The thing is, I am in between houses at the moment (moving from Winlaton to, hopefully, Morpeth) and am, for a while, staying up in Hazlerigg at my son's house. So as every self-respecting historical nosey parker would do, I am having a poke around my new environment to see what I can find.

One such expedition took me a-wandering down the Great North Road, where I fell upon the entrance to Newcastle Racecourse and found the following:

And what, exactly, was the funny-shaped cross and shell all about, I wondered?

Well, it turns out that it is the emblazonment that featured on the shield of the coat of arms of the Brandling family who once owned Gosforth House, the eighteenth century mansion that still lies beyond the gates (and forms part of the racecourse complex). It is now more commonly referred to as Brandling House.

The mansion was built in the 1750s by Charles Brandling (1733-1802), and acted as the family's main residence for several decades. Despite the dynasty's many lucrative business interests (banking and coal, mainly), they eventually overstretched themselves and Gosforth House was sold in 1852. In 1880, High Gosforth Park Company bought a large chunk of the estate, and turned the area into a racecourse. The house itself formed a major part of the development, but its internals were destroyed by a fire started by the suffragettes in 1914. It was then restored in 1921, and currently serves as an events centre.

The gate columns are obviously (I assume) originals, and show the distinctive Patonce Cross, with escallop shell in the upper left-hand quadrant. I understand that this curious combination is representative of a deep Christian faith and a devotion to pilgrimage. Quite why the Brandlings plumped for this I don't know.

Nice that they left the gateposts intact, though.