by Taffy Thomas
First published in 2016
The History Press
The Mill, Brimscombe Port
Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG
www.thehistorypress.co.uk
This ebook edition first published in 2016
All rights reserved
© Taffy Thomas, 2016
The right of Taffy Thomas to be identified as the Author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
EPUB ISBN 978 0 7509 6948 2
Original typesetting by The History Press
eBook converted by Geethik Technologies
For Ona and Uma,
my dear granddaughters
and for children everywhere.
A RIDDLE
To get into this book solve this riddle:
My first is in king, but never in queen,
My second’s in river and also in stream,
My third is in yes, but never in no,
My whole will open where you want to go.
Unlock the door and walk in.
CONTENTS
About the Author
About the Illustrator
Foreword
Introduction
Acknowledgements
1. The Dragon of Winter SCAFELL PIKE
2. The Cat Fishers GRASMERE
3. The Farmer’s Fun-Loving Daughter TROUTBECK
4. Mr Coney AMBLESIDE, RIVER ROTHAY
5. The Rum Butter Dish PARTON
6. Farmer Merryweather’s Cow SIZERGH
7. The Magic Orchard LYTH VALLEY
8. The Boy and the Harp GRASMERE
9. The King of the Birds HELM CRAG
10. The Ghost of Grasmere Gables RED BANK, GRASMERE
11. The Hunchback and the Swan GRASMERE LAKE
12. The Star Apple CARLISLE CASTLE
13. Jack Turnip LANGDALE VALLEY
14. The Valley of Two Rivers CARTMEL
15. The Silly Sausage GILCRUX
16. The Fairy Boots THE STORYTELLER’S GARDEN, GRASMERE
17. The Cobblestone Maker HONISTER CRAG
18. The Grasmere Gingerbread Man GRASMERE
19. The Giant Hoad ULVERSTON
20. The Dragon of Rydal Cave RYDAL
The Storyteller poem
... And now finally
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Taffy Thomas has been living in Grasmere for well over thirty years. He was the founder of legendary ’70s folk theatre company Magic Lantern, who used shadow puppets and storytelling to illustrate folk tales. After surviving a major stroke in 1985 he used oral storytelling as speech therapy, which led him to find a new career working as a storyteller.
He set up the Storyteller’s Garden and the Northern Centre for Storytelling at Church Stile in Grasmere, Cumbria.
He was asked to become patron of the Society for Storytelling and was awarded an MBE for Services to Storytelling and Charity in the Millennium honours list.
In January 2010 he was appointed the first UK Storyteller Laureate at The British Library.
He was awarded the Gold Badge, the highest honour of the English Folk Dance and Song Society, that same year.
At the 2013 British Awards for Storytelling Excellence Taffy received the award for outstanding male storyteller and also the award for outstanding storytelling performance for his piece ‘Ancestral Voices’.
More recently he has become patron of Open Storytellers, a charity that works to enrich and empower the lives of people marginalised because of learning and communication difficulties, and also the patron of the East Anglian Storytelling Festival.
ABOUT THE ILLUSTRATOR
The illustrations have been drawn by young Cumbrian artist Steven Gregg. Steven was born and raised in the Lake District and currently lives in Windermere. He studied graphic design at Nottingham Trent University and is now working in freelance illustration.
When asked to work as illustrator for this book he commented, ‘Cumbria is a county filled with magical places and eccentric people, all of which contribute to a wealth of imagery waiting to be tapped into for creativity, be it storytelling or illustration. Being born and raised here I am proud to be able to work with Taffy to help bring this collection of stories to life.’
FOREWORD
I have a rather unusual job. I make animated films.
I hope you’ve seen some of them: from very short ones like the Amazing Adventures of Morph, which may only last a minute, to middle-sized stories like Shaun the Sheep right up to full-length feature films like Chicken Run or The Pirates. Together with a whole studio full of people, we make beautiful puppets and sets, and we bring them to life through the magic of animation.
You may imagine it’s a very complicated process and needs lots of talented people, each doing extraordinary things. But for all those people and all those skills, the single most important part of what we do – the very heart of it – is STORYTELLING. Without that we have nothing.
An animated film is just a story told in a particular way and watched on a screen. But in this book, you can go back to basics, to pure storytelling, with some beautiful illustrations of course. Because great storytelling is one of the simplest and most magical arts. You can read these stories to yourself, you can read them aloud to others, and you can remember them and tell them again in your own words. They’re timeless, and yet they’re perfectly modern; they can be told anywhere, and yet they belong to a special particular place – England’s Lakeland.
So turn off those screens for a while – even if they are showing Shaun the Sheep – and listen, read and immerse yourself in Taffy’s wonderful stories.
Peter Lord
2016
INTRODUCTION
‘Lakeland can be appreciated by anyone who has an eye to perceive and a heart to enjoy.’
William Wordsworth
Even in the extreme flood conditions of winter 2015/16, when the Lake District lost forty-eight bridges and a major road, and literally thousands of homes and buildings were flooded, many for the second or third time, the prime minister still described Lakeland as ‘a jewel in the crown of English tourism’.
Approximately 16 million people visit the Lakeland counties of Cumbria every year. A third of these visitors are families. So what do they do when they arrive here from the cities? There are no theme parks and whilst there are some excellent visitor attractions, with mountains or fells to climb and scramble, and becks, tarns and lakes for swimming, sailing and canoeing, Lakeland is in fact its own natural theme park.
With its exposure to the North Atlantic, Lakeland can seldom promise fine or dry weather. Every year there is a handful of dry days with crystal-clear air and perfect light. It is this air and light that has attracted artists, authors and poets for more than 200 years, and it is some of the best works of these artists that continue to attract others to this day.
Local legends inspired the poet Wordsworth as did the landscape itself. The crystal-clear waters of the lakes and their mysterious islands inspired the author Arthur Ransome to write Swallows and Amazons. Author Beatrix Potter, descendant of Lancashire cotton mill owners, left her home in London to settle in the Lake District and became a successful farmer. Insp
ired by the beauty and wildlife of Lakeland, she created a rabbit called Peter, a frog called Jeremy Fisher and various other enchanting characters. I’m sure families try and catch a glimpse of these creatures on their Lakeland holidays to this day.
Whilst this storyteller and author would not claim to have either the celebrity or literary prowess of Potter or Ransome, it is my hope that this collection of stories, gathered over forty years immersed in the beauty of Lakeland with farmers, shepherds and fishermen or just allowing my own imagination to run free, will find a place on the bookshelves of both visitors and those lucky enough to live here. These families may look for Mr Coney on the riverbank, the dragon at Rydal Cave or even the swans on Grasmere’s lake. On this treasure hunt you may also bump into a rabbit called Peter on a grassy bank or row next to swallows and amazons on a boat trip.
Because I am first and foremost a storyteller I speak directly to you, my readers, in the introductions to the tales that follow, and after each story title I name the place in which the story is set.
If you enjoy the stories please pass them on and share the love of this unique and beautiful part of England and its entrancing tales. Those who love this land will help to care for it.
Taffy Thomas
The Storyteller’s House, 2016
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
For these stories to reach the printed page I am reliant on the help of a number of ‘electro scribes’ to whom I half tell and half dictate from the handwritten notes in my pile of exercise books. These helpers include my wife and muse Chrissy, my daughter Rosie, and Tony Farren. I hope this verbal communication between us allows my storyteller’s voice to come through to you, my reader.
Many of these tales started their lives in the minds and mouths of Lakeland farmers, housewives and fishermen. In putting these together I have been a collector. Some of them, however, have been the construct of my own creative brain steeped in more than fifty years of the style and conceits of folk song and folk tale. It is the fact that my young readers are absorbing them and passing them on that makes them the next generation of folk tales from the storytellers of the future.
To everyone who gave me stories or ideas I am hugely grateful. As I grow older I am hopeful the stories will outlive me in the hands of you, my readers.
Nicola Guy and the team at The History Press have been, as ever, supportive. Children’s author Helen Watts has been a writing mentor to me, as well as allowing me to use ‘The Boy with the Harp’, which was our collaboration, in this collection.
Steven Gregg returned to his native Lakeland after completing an art degree in the Midlands. Drawing on the culture and scenery he grew up with, he continues to produce illustrations of the highest quality that always delight and occasionally surprise me. Thanks Stevo.
In conclusion, none of my extensive storytelling performances, books or audio recordings would reach fruition without the selfless support of my wife, Chrissy.
SCAFELL PIKE
Despite the efforts of St George, every part of England boasts a dragon story or two. The tale that follows is one that I have brought home from my travels. It seems to live happily here, even changing to feature ‘a host of golden daffodils’, the Lakeland sign of spring.
It was the iron winter. The Dragon of Winter had curled itself around Scafell Pike, with its icy scales and tail sliding down into Lakeland and towards the Furness peninsula. The rivers Duddon and Greta were frozen solid; even part of the sea was frozen at Whitehaven and Maryport. Wastwater, the deepest lake in the country, was frozen so solid that the good people of Wasdale were able to safely skate on it from end to end. Ships couldn’t sail into the port of Whitehaven with food from foreign parts. All the people who lived in West Cumbria fell on hard times.
They went to the pompous mayor and told him that he would have to do something about the situation. The mayor knew he would have to go and reason with the dragon and persuade him to fly elsewhere. He put on his climbing boots and warm clothes. Slipping and sliding he climbed up Scafell Pike, until he was staring into the icy blue eyes of the Dragon of Winter.
He told the dragon it was upsetting local folk as they were not getting enough food and they were freezing. Because of this the dragon would have to go elsewhere.
The dragon told the mayor he was reluctant to leave as he loved Cumbria and the Cumbrian folk, and especially his lofty perch.
Regretfully the mayor insisted that the dragon would have to leave. The dragon asked where he might go. The mayor suggested the dragon could fly to the frozen north and make a home with the polar bears and the Inuit.
A tear came to the dragon’s icy blue eye. This was his place; he didn’t want to go. The mayor, although pompous, was kindly, and realised a compromise was called for.
The mayor suggested the dragon could stay up on Scafell Pike for part of the year, the months that Cumbrians call winter. The time that the dragon spent in the frozen north would be the time that Cumbrians call summer. The time when the dragon was flying north would be called spring. The time that the dragon was flying back would be called autumn. That was agreed and the mayor returned down the mountain to the towns and villages, and told his people that the problem had been solved. They were delighted and told him he had done well, for they knew he had been very brave to climb the mountain and face the dragon. The following day the Dragon of Winter spread its white leathery wings, flew high into the sky and headed for the north. The day after that, the sun came out bright and strong. The fishermen could go out and fish from Whitehaven harbour and ships from afar could again bring food into the ports of west Cumbria.
All the people had smiles on their faces and all was well.
When autumn came it started to get cold again, and again the Dragon of Winter returned to its favourite place and curled itself around the peak of Scafell Pike. All the people were cold, but consoled themselves with the thought that the dragon would soon fly away. But when it came time for winter to end the dragon was still there. Again the people went to the mayor, and the mayor realised that the dragon had forgotten the agreement. Although the families enjoyed playing in the snow and wearing warm jumpers and hearing stories by the fireside, again many were freezing and starving. The fishermen and farmers were struggling to work and again food supplies were running short. Once again the dragon was to blame. He didn’t seem to know when to leave the mountain for the frozen north.
A young lad in the crowd who always looked forward to the return of spring, when he could help his father with the lambs on their tiny hill farm, had a great idea. He knew all the signs of spring returning and knew that he could help the dragon to know when to go. He squeezed through the crowd until he reached the mayor. Boldly he shouted that he knew how to solve the problem. Everyone turned to look at him. The crowd doubted whether such a youngster could possibly succeed where the mayor had failed.
The mayor bent forward to listen to the boy’s idea. To the astonishment of the crowd the mayor took the boy by the hand and together they headed towards the mountain and started the climb up to the dragon.
When they reached the top they were staring into the icy blue eyes of the great dragon. The mayor asked the dragon why he had not kept his promise to fly to the frozen north. The dragon replied that he was confused and did not know when to leave and needed help to know. The mayor told the dragon that he had brought along this young farm lad who knew all the signs of spring, especially in the Lakeland valleys.
The boy bravely took a step towards the dragon, telling him that his favourite sign was when he saw fields and gardens filled with bright yellow flowers with trumpet heads called daffodils. From behind his back he held up a daffodil that he’d collected on the way up the mountain – a daffodil that had managed to push its way through the frozen soil looking for the sun. He told the dragon that once the flowers began to peep through then this was the time for the dragon to be gone and allow the fields to be full of the beautiful bright yellow flowers, for the vegetables to grow and new lambs to b
e born and skip through those fields. The dragon looked at the flower and, wanting to keep his agreement as he loved the time he spent here, thanked the boy for his help. He now understood. Promising to return, he spread his great scaly wings and flew north.
The unlikely pair made their way down the mountain to the cheers of the crowd below. They could now welcome spring at last.
Ever since that day, as spring is due to arrive, folk throughout the Lake District make sure that there are fields and gardens of bright yellow daffodils. A sign of the return of spring and the departure of the Dragon of Winter.
GRASMERE
This delightful tale centres on the River Rothay, which runs through Grasmere village and close by the Storyteller’s Garden. If you follow the riverside trail you will pass the barn where the cat fishers live.
If you look over the bridge into the River Rothay at Grasmere, you might spot brown trout or sea trout. If you walk along the riverbank, you may well come to an old barn. Now, that barn is the home of two pussycats. One of these cats is an old black cat, and he’s a bit like me, because he’s a storyteller. The other cat is a little white kitten – she’s young and she’s fast.
Every night, the old black cat and the little white kitten curl up in the hay in the barn, and the old black cat tells the little white kitten stories. Those stories are usually about how good the old black cat was when he was her age, because those are the kind of stories that parents and teachers tell.
The little white kitten got fed up with the old black cat boasting about how good he used to be. So one night, the kitten said, ‘I don’t want a story tonight. We’ll go straight to sleep.’
The old black cat said that this was a pity, as tonight he was going to tell her how good he used to be at fishing. Then, in the morning, he was planning to take her down to the riverbank and teach her how to fish.
