Background: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-to-Jack-Black
Recent instalments -
Part 13: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...93-Settle-Down
Part 14: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...hering-Heights
Part 15: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...rmalade-Barlow!
Part 16: http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-Week-That-Was
My dear friends, I must humbly beg your forgiveness for my extended absence from this exalted place due to an unfortunate combination of factors of a ‘technical’ nature. An army of minions are currently working to solve the problem, and I very much hope that normal service will be resumed by the end of next week, if not before. In the meantime, you are greatly missed, and I will try to check in as and when circumstances allow. Notwithstanding my current difficulties, I have had a busy Easter holiday attempting to find pointy treasure.
Sadly, I have not turned up much of anything in my local market for some weeks, and last Thursday was no different. I did not find a single knife for sale.
Good Friday saw Yorkshire’s brightest and sunniest day this year, and since my destination was the latterly transformed (see http://www.bladeforums.com/forums/sh...-Quest-Part-11 ) West Yorkshire mill town of Hebden Bridge, and Heptonstall, the village which clings to the steep hill above it, I was glad of some decent weather. Since I have visited both Hebden and Heptonstall before on my Quest, you may wonder why I did so again. In truth, I must tell you that my reasons did not relate entirely to the Quest, but I planned to combine some blade-hunting with a trip to Heptonstall’s annual ‘Pace-Egg’ performance, which has previously been mentioned here, and which I thought might interest you.
On arriving in Hebden Bridge by train, I walked the short distance from the station into town, crossed the 16th century packhorse bridge, and began to ascend the steep cobbled road that ascends ‘The Buttress’ to Heptonstall. On the 1st of November 1643, during the English Civil War, a Royalist force of 400 infantry and 400 cavalry attempted to do the same in order to take the Parliamentarian stronghold above. Huge boulders were dislodged and sent crashing down upon the King’s men by the Heptonstall defenders, followed by volleys of musket fire. In panicked disorder, the routed Royalists fled back down the hill, but the narrow bridge forced some to have to jump into the river, where many of them were swept to their deaths. So ended the bloody Battle of Heptonstall.
Fortunately, I did not have to contend with flying musket balls as I climbed the steep hill myself, but it was struggle enough. A few oddly-dressed hippies also ascended The Buttress alongside me, while more sensible folks caught the bus.
Pace-egg plays are traditional English folk or ‘mumming’ plays performed at Easter. While similar plays were once performed throughout most of England and lowland Scotland, the form performed in Heptonstall is unique to North West England. While it is claimed by some that these plays go back almost to the dawn of time, academics believe they may be not be much older than the 1800’s. It is a hotly debated topic.
The Heptonstall Pace-egg performances take place in Weaver’s Square in the shadow of the ancient ruined church, which dates back to the mid 1200’s, being left in place when the newer church beyond was built in 1854. In this splendid setting, old ladies from the church give out buttered hot-cross buns to the gathering crowds of locals and those who have travelled from further afield to see the spectacle. While the Pace-Egg play is very much a family affair, much drinking is in evidence, very much in the tradition of old English holiday revelry.
Having not been to see the play for about three years or so, I noticed a couple of new faces among the performers, but otherwise they were the same stalwarts, with much the same costumes as in former years. A fine display of knife-juggling started the affair, and then the play itself was underway. As always, challenges were issued, and challenges were met, and the swordplay was even better than I recall in the past. This was the second performance of the day, and the ale which had been consumed betwixt performances had no doubt added to the gusto with which steel met steel. It may also have accounted for some apparent stumbling by the ‘King of Egypt’. The audience were jokingly reminded that the gentlemen performers were not professional actors, but rather, as it was put, “a group of drunken middle-aged men wrecklessly playing around with a load of potentially dangerous pointy objects.” There was much horse-play and traditional tomfoolery, with the audience enthusiastically playing their part. Loud cheering and applause rang out as the play reached its finale and the troupe of players departed for more ale in one of the two pubs adjacent to the square.
I had a pint myself, and then set off to visit the village museum and to explore the ruins of the old church. I descended back to Hebden by a less direct route than I had used to climb to Heptonstall, walking along nearby crags, with stunning views of the valley below and of the hills opposite. Walking down through a pleasant wood, I crossed ‘Jack’s Bridge’, continued down the hill, and re-entered Hebden Bridge along the canal.
Back in the town, I visited an antiques shop I have not been to before. I found the child’s cutlery set pictured above, still in its original box, along with this old and interesting piece, a Bontgen & Sabin/P.Metz Butterfly knife.
Sadly, I did not find anything Quest-compatible in the antique shop, but it perhaps deserves another visit.
The following day, I set off for the market town of Wetherby, which sits between Leeds and York. Unfortunately, when I arrived there, the antiques fair, which was the reason for my trip, had been cancelled, and the antiques shop I planned to also visit, the details of which I had taken from the internet, had closed down several years before.
On Easter Sunday, I set off to visit the car-boot sale held on the site of Otley cattle market. The queue of people waiting to be admitted looked auspicious, the falling drizzle less so. I took my place in the queue, waited 20 minutes, paid the £1 admission fee without complaint, only to be confronted with the biggest collection of rubbish I have ever seen at such an event. It was if the sellers had simply emptied their refuse bins onto trestle tables, and I wondered that they did not feel ashamed standing there trying to sell such junk to their fellow citizens. Not a knife was to be seen.
In Otley itself, only one of the antique shops was open, and there was nothing to be had of interest there. Further disappointment loomed when I called at an antiques centre just off the Leeds-Harrogate road, which turned out to be closed.
On Easter Monday, which is a holiday here, I went to the pub! That was my Easter. Hope you all had a good one.
The Hunt Continues!
Jack