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.