TC Lethbridge | The Sons of TC-Lethbridge

Light all the fires….

14th Nov 2004

Stop Press!
Read Todd E. Jones aka The New Jeru Poet’s interview with The Sons of T.C.-Lethbridge on his own personal site INDIE MUSIC Reviews & Interviews OR Geocities/Hiphopinterview.
The interview can also be found on musicremedy.com and soon on pixelsurgeon.com

A true star
I must begin this November posting by paying a tribute to the late, great John Peel. Regrettably, I never met him, but like so many others, who have in recent days paid tribute to him, I considered him a ‘virtual’ friend. He was a reassuring figure who presided over everything that was wholesome and righteous about rock ‘n’ roll. My fondest memories of Peel take me back to 1980, and how I used to sit for hours in my bed-sit, with my finger hovering over the ‘record’ button of my radio-cassette player, patiently waiting for him to play our first single release ‘The Cinema Clock’. The record was played on numerous occasions and in an inevitable way, he always got the A-side confused with the B-side and even once lost, on air, the list of gigs he had promised to read out for us! But somehow, this disheveled presentation of our work, added to the un-polished splendour of the post-punk scene. Listening to him on winter nights in those impoverished, Thatcherite days of unemployment and grimness, brought light and hope into my world. I am sure everyone who has ever been touched by rock ‘n’ roll will have their own personal memories of John Peel - a true star.

Not waving, but drowning
Last month, I traveled to the north of England to experience autumn - close-up. Often, when venturing out to explore less familiar corners of the country, you are exposed to local anomalies and quirks that often go unobserved by the masses. One such instance occurred whilst enjoying a pint of the locally brewed ‘Whistle Stop’ ale in ‘The Pheasant’ public house, situated on the Keilder Road near to the village of Falstone in Northumberland. On my first visit, the old photos that adorned the walls of this cosy pub occupied my attention, but on leaving, I happened to notice that in the bar, a house brick was given pride of place on the mantle-piece. I was intrigued by this unusual ornamentation and returned to the pub several days later, firstly to re-experience the delights of ‘Whistle Stop’ ale and secondly, to enquire about the significance of the brick.

The nearby reservoir - Keilder Water is a man-made lake, created in 1982 when the North Tyne was damned at Yarrow, an endeavour that constituted the formation of the magnificent lake. During the creation of the reservoir, a number of families and businesses had to be relocated from the valley to accommodate the proposed development. One of the businesses relocated by the project was a brick-works and this of course explained the significance of the brick on The Pheasant’s mantle-piece.

The barman who explained the significance of the brick to me, expanded on the story by telling me that local-folk tell stories of the houses and buildings that are said to still exist in the murky depths of Keilder Water and those brave enough, can still swim amongst the deserted, submerged dwellings. He confirmed to me that in fact this was indeed just a folk-tale, for he had witnessed ‘first-hand’, the bulldozing of the dwellings in the valley before flooding commenced. It is curious, therefore, that locals should invent such fabricated stories, when those who knew the truth were still living and able to confirm the actual facts.

The flooding of the valley took place in 1982 – relatively recently, and it is amazing that such tales are already being formulated locally. It will only be a matter of time when the generations who witnessed the actual destruction of the buildings will have vanished and the romantic tales of a lost submerged town will prevail in local folklore. As T.C.-Lethbridge believed, all folklore contains an element of truth, but it is human nature to romanticise and embroider such tales. I believe it is an attempt to retain the ‘mysterious’, which is constantly deprived from us by scientific discovery. As a child, in my home county of Lincolnshire, my father told me, whilst we holidayed in the seaside resort of Mablethorpe, that a church still existed, submerged beneath the North Sea. He continued, by telling me that at low tide, its bell still tolled, far out to sea. It is this fascinating, but unlikely story that still intrigues and infatuates me to this very day, when I stand staring out into the churning, grey abyss.

Although the story is a contrivance, we know for a fact that land once inhabited by the hunter-gatherers of prehistory was swallowed up by the North Sea after the last Ice Age. Although there might not be an actual church submerged out at sea, a number of prehistoric shrines could well have fallen victim to the great deluge and many may still remain undetected under the shifting sandbanks. For evidence of this, we have to look no further than the timber circle known romantically as ‘Seahenge’, recently discovered on the north Norfolk coast. Again, we reveal a folk-tale of submerged churches and tolling bells, which, under closer scrutiny, reveals a factual story of an actual submerged world. I believe that Lethbridge was correct in his assumption that every contrived tale conceals an element of truth and therefore the analysis of myth, can serve as a useful tool in our observance and interpretation of the land – however subjective this evidence may later prove to be. As a result of local folklore, the lost village below Keilder Water will remain alive forever.

Once, twice, three times a lady
Whilst in Northumberland, I took time out to visit numerous forts and temples along Hadrian’s Wall and became intrigued by the number of triple goddess figurines and carvings that have been discovered in the vicinity. Many of this statues and carvings appear to be accidentally decapitated, but closer inspection reveals this to have been a deliberate act. In my own county of Lincolnshire, a triple goddess statuette was discovered at a British/Romano shrine at Ancaster (Anna’s Encampment). The original stone triumvirate can be seen in Grantham museum, but a facsimile is situated on the wall of St. Martin’s church in the village. Further discoveries at the shrine of the three mothers revealed that the young god Viridius once addressed the triumvirate.

Curiously, the central figure of the Ancaster triumvirate has also been decapitated, and one would suspect that rough handling through history would have resulted in one of the end figures being damaged, not the central, most protected figure. This leads us to the conclusion that the beheading of one, or all of the figures was as a result of a deliberate act of malice. All religions, unless they evolve to accommodate the needs of their communities eventually fail their congregation, it is therefore understandable that the icon, or aspects of that deity should take the blame for calamities or disasters that befall the brethren.

It is difficult to imagine the bleakness and isolation of the Roman garrisons posted on Hadrian’s Wall. We know that their own gods were patronised, but it is curious that the Roman soldiers edged-their-bets by also adopting the patronage of local cults. In this wild ‘godless’ wilderness, it would have been wise to keep your options open. An example of one of these adopted cults is demonstrated by the wonderful carving of three hooded figures discovered at the Housesteads fort. These three sinister individuals again depict the three aspects of a single deity and appear as distinctly un-Roman and ‘northern’ in their hooded tunics.

Brainstorming in the Great Forest
Whilst in Northumberland, I was beguiled by the wonderful autumn colours. A window of three short days enabled us to catch the vibrance of the autumnal spectrum before an overnight gale rid the trees of their mantlles, leaving them skeletal and vulnerable against the uncompromising northern weather. Driving around Keilder Water at night, the full-beam of my headlights illuminated the banks of hawthorn berries in the hedgerows and they shone like supernatural neons alongside the deserted roads. I was also captivated by the darkness and depth of the forest, an enchantment that has led to the creation of a countless children’s stories associated with woods and forests.

Whilst at Keilder, my girlfriend Sue, brought with her some work she is preparing for her Masters Degree on Conservation and Restoration. Her thesis focuses on the care of sacred and religious objects and during her research she asked if I could ‘brainstorm’ the subject with her. The outcome of this brainstorming session has resulted in this month’s ‘Tekh’s Journal’ essay which is entitled ‘BELONGINGS' . As T.C. Lethbridge was once Curator of The Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology at Cambridge, his responsibility would have concerned the care of archaeological finds, many of which could be classed as ‘sacred objects’. I therefore considered the resulting essay of our ‘brainstorming’ session, appropriate for this site.

Finally….
In last month’s ‘News’ I mentioned that I had a hunch that Norman mottes may well have had a much earlier origination – one that was sacred rather than secular. From these brief comments, I have received a variety of correspondence on this matter. Coincidentally, whilst ‘up north’, I happened upon the tantalising Norman motte at the Scottish Border town of Hawick. The motte presides over the valley of the river Taviot that flows through the town. Standing on top of the motte and looking north-east along the river across Hawick, I was intrigued by the twin, ‘breast-like’ hills of Minto, approx five miles away. Surely, the original builders of this conical mound had every intention of addressing these two beautiful hills. I cannot believe that the mound was built in this location for a purely secular purpose. If anyone has any further information or has knowledge of the occurrence at Hawick I would be intrigued to discover more.

Got-ta-go!

welbourn TEKH – Linden ‘the people of the pool’ – November 2004