Belper

Well Dressing – a quaint Derbyshire tradition

Posted on by Platypus Man

Water, in the right quantity, is essential for the survival and well-being of our species. Too much or too little and we’re in big trouble. But rainfall is, of course, totally outside of human control, so our ancestors decided that, just to be on the safe side, it would be prudent to keep on the right side of the water gods. And thus was born the quaint Derbyshire tradition of well dressing.

Well dressing in the Derbyshire village of Taddington in 2022

Well dressing is the art of decorating wells, springs and other water sources with natural objects – particularly flower petals, leaves and seeds – to create vibrant pictures and designs. Its origins are uncertain. Some people assert that the practice was introduced by the Romans around 2,000 years ago, but others believe it to be even older. According to this theory, Celtic tribes that pre-dated the arrival of the Romans decorated sources of fresh water to give thanks for past supplies, and to encourage these supplies to carry on flowing in the future.

The tradition of well dressing is almost entirely confined to my home county of Derbyshire and surrounding areas of the Peak District. Why this is so remains uncertain. Clearly, reliable supplies of drinking water are essential everywhere, and so practices giving thanks for it can also reasonably be expected to happen in every corner of the country.

One of Belper’s well dressings in 2023.

There are suggestions that the ancient Celtic practice had indeed died out everywhere, but was revived in Tissington in the mid-14th century when the Derbyshire village was reportedly spared the ravages of the plague by the purity of its spring water. Alternatively, it is proposed that Tissington was saved from the great drought of 1615 by the reliability of its springs, and the villagers sought to give thanks by reviving the tradition of well dressing.

Either, or both, of these theories could be true, but ultimately this is of little importance. The fact is that the tradition is flourishing, with around 80 towns and villages in Derbyshire and the Peak District now having annual well dressings. Some of these don’t even have a proper well or spring, but such is the enthusiasm to participate in a traditional, community-focused activity that another local landmark is chosen to show off their floral creations.

Two well dressings from 2023 in the village of Wingerworth. Above – in situ. Below – in more detail. Note that one has a religious theme and the other a more naturalistic (spiritual?) theme.

Well-dressing begins with the construction – close to the well, spring or other chosen location – of a large wooden frame upon which the image will be created. Clay is then collected from the local environment, and strenuously worked until it’s soft and malleable. The worked clay is packed into the wooden frame, and smoothed out until it has produced a totally flat surface upon which the image can be created. To allow several teams to work on different parts of the well dressing at the same time the frame may comprise several separate panels, which are brought together only when they have been decorated.

A sketch of the proposed design of the Chadkirk well dressing, to help guide the team working on its creation.

An outline of the intended image is sketched on to a large sheet of paper. The design is applied to the smooth surface of the clay by pricking through with a sharp instrument and the paper is removed.

Working on an abstract part of the design. The colours are not shown on the sketch.

Now the real fun begins! Teams of makers from the local community “paint” the design onto the clay surface, using natural materials to create a stunning, colourful mosaic. The can take up to a week to complete, and the picture thus created lasts only a few days until the clay starts to dry and crack.

This part of the design is more naturalistic.

Writing nearly 30 years ago, a prominent local historian noted that well dressings are invariably blessed in a religious service, and suggested that around 75% of well dressings have a religious theme. However, my own observations lead me to believe that images are increasingly focused on the natural world rather than Christianity, reflecting perhaps a more modern approach to spirituality.

The watercolour taped to the wall towards the top of the left hand image shows what the volunteers were working towards. Still lots to do at this stage!

Some communities make arrangements for visitors to watch their well dressings being created. Mrs P and I did just that last year when we visited the little village of Chadkirk, which lies on the edge of the Peak District, within the neighbouring county of Cheshire. It was fascinating to watch the painstaking efforts of the volunteers working on various panels, where nature rather than religion was at the forefront of the design.

Sadly we never got to see the finished well dressing, which was not ready until several days after our visit, But Mrs P’s photos of the work in progress are a good indication of what the final result must have looked like. Chadkirk’s well dressing, and dozens of others scattered through towns and villages of Derbyshire and the Peak District, celebrate a tradition that is deeply embedded within our local culture. Long may it continue!

An unexpected mural

Posted on by Platypus Man

Our town is recognised by UNESCO as part of the Derwent Valley Mills World Heritage Site. The cotton mills erected along the Derwent Valley in the late 18th century witnessed the birth and establishment of the modern factory system that helped shape the world in which we live today. Belper is therefore rich in history, but in other respects is fairly ordinary, not exactly a cultural desert but boasting little of interest to the casual visitor.

So, imagine our surprise when we discovered that a large, eye-catching mural had suddenly appeared along the main road passing through the town.

Driving along Chapel Street about a month ago we were puzzled to see what appeared to be random splatterings of paint on the gable end wall of one of the houses that front the road. We assumed artistically-challenged vandals had been at work, and thought no more of it.

A few days later, we were amazed to discover the unfathomable daubings had morphed into a magnificent mural of a kingfisher. As well as the brightly-coloured bird, the mural also features magnolia blossom and a waterwheel, the latter being a reference to Belper’s industrial heritage.

The mural is the brainchild of the house owner, Steph Walsh, who thought her local area needed a boost. She told the local radio station “”When you drive into Belper and you see that expanse of grey wall, it’s screaming out for a mural…I think it will be a positive thing for Belper – it will be the first thing you see as you drive in.”

Viewed from the other direction there’s no hint of Belper’s new, exciting mural!

Steph showed great initiative by raising the money for the mural through crowdfunding. When enough had been generated she commissioned artist Sarah Yates to get her spray-paints out and do the business. Sarah has been spray-painting for 15 years, and specialises in producing spectacular murals of birds and animals. The portfolio of street art on her website shows her to be a rare talent.

So, respect and thanks to Steph for an initiative that definitely succeeds in brightening up her part of Belper, and well done to Sarah for turning Steph’s dream – which she says she’s had for 15 years – into reality. Well-executed street art clearly improves the urban environment and raises the spirits of all who see it, so let’s hope their great little project will encourage Belper to go mural-mad.

Touching the face of God – Belper’s Memorial Garden

Posted on by Platypus Man

Today, 11 November, is Armistice Day, when Britain remembers its fallen servicemen and women. Armistice Day was first observed in 1919 to commemorate the armistice agreement that came into effect on Monday, November 11 1918 – at precisely 11am – to formally end the First World War. To mark this anniversary a two-minute silence is observed each year at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month.

In addition, services and ceremonies to remember those who lost their lives fighting for their country in all conflicts – not just the First World War – are held annually on Remembrance Sunday, which always falls on the second Sunday in November. In 2020 Remembrance Sunday was therefore on November 8, but events were scaled back drastically due to the Covid-19 crisis.

* * *

The First World War resulted in around 886,000 deaths of British military personnel. Unsurprisingly, society felt an urgent need to commemorate those who had lost their lives, and up and down the country war memorials were created as the focus for community remembrance. Memorials took many forms, including in some places a dedicated garden.

Although I’ve lived in Belper since 1983 I’m sorry to say that until a few weeks ago I had never visited its Memorial Garden. The Garden dates from 1921 and lies on land donated by George Herbert Strutt, a descendant of one the town’s most famous sons, cotton mill magnate Jedediah Strutt. 

The names of the dead servicemen are inscribed on a simple white granite obelisk, around 4.5 metres high, standing close to the northern boundary of the Garden. There are 225 names in total, including one W [Walter] Pepper.

When viewing war memorials it can be difficult to get beyond the list of names, and to understand something of the lives they represent. But in Walter’s case there are tantalising insights on the web.

The Belper in Wartime website tells us that Walter Pepper was born and lived much of his life within just a few hundred metres of the parcel of land which was to become the Memorial Garden. He worked as a fitter before the war, and later joined the 1st/5th Sherwood Foresters (Notts and Derby Regiment).

Walter was killed in action on the first day of the Battle of the Somme, on Saturday 1st July 1916. He was 38 years old. The night before he “went over the top” to his death, Walter wrote this moving letter to his wife:

“Dearest,

I could not rest without saying goodbye, happen for the last time…but I want you to cheer up and be brave for the children’s sake. We must put our trust in God and hope for the best – to come safely through. We go over in the morning and I am in the first line. They are giving them a terrific bombardment… It is simply hell upon earth here.

My last thoughts will be with you at home as we are stepping over the trenches. May God watch over me and guard me and bring me safely through.”

Source: Belper in Wartime website

* * *

Although the obelisk is the primary focus for ceremonies of remembrance, the whole Garden is dedicated to the fallen. Belper town has something of a reputation for its floral displays, and the Memorial Garden was a riot of colour when we visited in September.

The Garden’s generous scattering of benches gives visitors the chance to sit and rest awhile. Here, in this tranquil oasis, it’s easy to escape the hurly-burly of our busy little town, to contemplate and to reflect on the sacrifices others have made so that we may enjoy our comfortable lives today.

One of the Garden’s simple but striking features is the silhouette of an infantry soldier amongst the flowerbeds. Propped against his legs is a plaque bearing the legend “lest we forget.” It’s a poignant reminder of why this is place is here.

And towering over the south-western corner of the Garden is another reminder. Sacrifice depicts the face of Lance Corporal Jim Green, another Belper man who joined the Sherwood Foresters regiment and then perished on the first morning of the battle of the Somme.

Before joining the Army Jim Green worked as a coal hewer at nearby Denby Colliery, and was a popular soccer player. He lived in the Cow Hill area of Belper, within sight of the sculptural installation which now immortalises him. Green’s image is copied from an archive photograph, in which he poses proudly in his uniform tunic and cap.

Sacrifice was designed by local artist Andy Mayers, and is cunningly fashioned from 29 rods of corten steel. As you walk around it the view of the subject’s face is forever changing. From some angles you can almost forget you are looking at a face at all, but from other positions it’s unmistakeably a soldier in uniform. To me the symbolism of this installation is plain: the fallen are forever with us, even though we do not always see them clearly.

* * *

Belper’s Memorial Garden has one more surprise in store, a poem inscribed on a plaque discretely tucked away on one of the boundary walls. One of 20 poems that make up Beth’s Poetry Trail, High Flight was written by John Gillespie Magee, an Anglo-American aviator and poet who served in the Royal Canadian Air Force. He died in a mid-air collision over Lincolnshire in 1941.

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of Earth
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, – and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of – wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, or ever eagle flew –
And, while with silent, lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.

Magee has no obvious connection with Belper, and yet his words clearly belong here. He, like the other men whose names are recorded in the Belper Memorial Garden, gave his life in the service of his country, and in so doing touched the face of God.

Brave New World or Paradise Lost? – Our town’s new library

Posted on by Platypus Man

Our town has a new library. It’s been open since early August, but the UK’s National Libraries Week (5 -10 October) seems like a good time to check it out. For years – no, decades – we’ve wished to see the old library replaced. Hopefully it will prove to be worth the wait.

* * *

The old library was a converted stone-built domestic property – The Hollies – dating from the first half of the 19th century. Located within the Belper Town section of the Derwent Valley Mills World Heritage Site, it had loads of character. But despite the best efforts of the staff it was a woefully inadequate public library, a hotchpotch of small, knocked-together rooms spread across two floors. “Compact” would be one way to describe it, but I prefer “cramped, uncomfortable and incapable of measuring up to 21st century expectations.”

The old library (photo taken 2005)

Ideally, Belper’s new library would have been purpose-built, but space for new-build projects is at a premium in the World Heritage Site area. And anyway, libraries aren’t seen as a priority these days, in a society which seems to believe that the Internet and mobile phones are the answer to everything. In the circumstances, I suppose we should be grateful that the project went ahead at all, albeit in another converted building.

The site of the new development is the former Castle Blouse factory, operated by the Nottingham Manufacturing Company for the production of blouses and hosiery. The building became a storage facility for Rolls-Royce engines during the Second World War and, in 1947, was taken over by the celebrated confectioner Thornton’s. Here, yummy chocolates and other confectionery goodies once rolled off the production lines in vast quantities. Thornton’s abandoned Belper many years ago, and a new use was required for their land and buildings.

The new library (ignore the frontage stretching into the far distance on the right!)

Cometh the hour, cometh the council. Parts of the factory were flattened, to be replaced by a relocated care home and a health centre. However the oldest factory building was retained, to be converted into the town’s new library.

* * *

As we approach the new library we take stock of its appearance and potential. Externally the architect has done a good job, broadly sympathetic to the building’s industrial past and in keeping with the spirit of the World Heritage Site. So far, so good. But what about inside?

A masked member of staff greets us as we enter, asking for our names and contact details as part of the government’s Covid-19 Test and Trace strategy. However there seems to be little chance of catching anything here. The place is almost deserted, just a couple more staff and one other member of the public who scuttles out soon after we arrive.

The timing of the new library’s opening is disastrous, and you’ve got to feel sorry for the management and local staff. This project has been in the pipeline for years, and nobody could have predicted it would come to fruition when the country is in the throes of a pandemic.

Computers wrapped in bin bags, and no chairs…not much chance of public internet access here today! Sexy curved shelving – but the “island” units interfere with sightlines.

Elsewhere in Derbyshire the county’s library service is working hard to extend and promote its digital offer – eBooks, online storytimes and the like. But here at Belper the team face a different challenge, to entice users to try out an unfamiliar library building which is currently unable to live up to its potential due to the Covid-19 restrictions.

It’s clearly not “business as usual” today. Covid-19 is still deterring many people from venturing into public spaces like this, the computers are wrapped up in what looks like bin-bags, and seating is limited. More disturbingly, all books returned to the library after being borrowed are set aside and quarantined for three days before they are put back on the open shelves.

Exposed rafters and beams, and bare brickwork, celebrate the building’s industrial past

So, through no fault of the staff our first visit here is not the relaxed, welcoming experience we’d hoped it would be. We have the place to ourselves as we start to explore the Brave New World of Belper Library

Although the positioning of the original windows tells us this was once a two-storey building, the first floor has been stripped out entirely. The roof soars high above us, revealing exposed rafters and beams. Combined with the bare brickwork, the underbelly of the roof pays due homage to the building’s industrial past.

White “island” shelving units, but wooden wall-mounted units. Why?

But, and it’s a big but, the place seems a bit small. In order to cram more books into the available space they’ve opted for head-high “island” shelving, which interferes with sightlines and counteracts the airy sense of space which should result from the soaring roofline. And where are the public meeting rooms, a vital resource for the modern public library, welcoming shared spaces where community groups can get together to explore culture, literature and learning?

But it’s the children’s section of the library that disappoints me the most. It’s not big enough, feels austere and clinical, and lacks both colour and character.

In my view the most important part of any public library is the children’s area. More than ever in this digital age we have a duty to encourage youngsters to explore and enjoy the written word, to develop their language skills, and to experience the power of story. I worry that the dazzling white shelves and uninspired furnishings will struggle to achieve this.

The children’s area: austere, clinical, lacking colour and character

Perhaps I’m being too harsh? The library is clearly an enormous improvement on what the town has had to put up with for the previous 80 years, and we’ve not seen it at its best. In the post-Covid environment (whenever that is!) I’m sure the staff will work hard to make it fly, and I wish them well in their endeavours.

But this was a once-in-a-generation opportunity to do something brilliant for culture and learning in Belper, to create a new, vibrant community venue, and it seems to have slightly missed the mark. I leave the library feeling a trifle underwhelmed, debating whether, when I write this post, I should somehow weave “Paradise Lost” into the title of the piece.

Sadly, I won’t be spending as much of my retirement in the library as I’d once imagined.