Finds from my garden

Presented by Kathleen Macfarlane

One of the many boxes of mesolithic flints Kathleen has dug up in her garden.

My story begins in the 1990s when I retired from teaching.  I was working at the university at Coleraine with the PGCE students when I found out about a course being offered at the Magee campus in Derry the following September under the umbrella of extra -mural studies – a two year course on the History and Archaeology of Ulster.  I signed up, not quite knowing what to expect.  What did emerge was that the course involved six modules based on chosen aspects of Ulster history and archaeology, each lasting a term of the university year.  The big shock was that you were expected to write an assignment on each topic which would be marked!   I had a great two years, driving to Magee twice a week for lectures and going on field trips, in Derry, Donegal and Tyrone.  Dr. Brian Lacy, who directed the archaeological survey of Donegal, was our lecturer for the archaeology module and he opened my eyes to a topic of which I had little knowledge –  the pre- history and very early archaeology of Ulster.

Interest in the archaeology of Mountsandel at Coleraine area goes back a long time.  In the 1880s flint axes were found ‘in a field behind Mountsandel Fort’  and in the 1920’s and 30’s  a considerable number of flint axes from this area were presented to museum collections and recorded in the Ulster Journal of Archaeology. Of course none of these collectors recognised the particular importance of this site. It was not until the 1970s, when some of the fields behind the fort were scheduled to be developed for housing, that a team of archaeologists led by Professor Peter Woodman carried out a very significant dig over a period of 4 seasons – 1973, 1974, 1976 and 1977.

Google Earth View of Mount Sandel Woods, the Fort and the nearby River Bann and the Cutts

The excavations revealed a Mesolithic site that is now dated as going back 10,000 years (8000BC) and indicating the earliest settlers to Ireland. There had been a good deal of evidence of Mesolithic sites in Britain but no satisfactory evidence of their presence in Ireland until Peter Woodman made his important finds at what has become the most famous Mesolithic site in Ireland. The excavations produced a number of finds including evidence of settlement, tools the people used and what sort of economy they had.  Post holes and stake holes situated in a small hollow behind the fort indicated where a number of huts had been placed, estimated at ten different huts.   Woodman pointed out that several communities may have lived within fairly easy access of each other in the area south of the Bann estuary, Castleroe on the other side of the river being one.  Woodman had also conducted a site investigation there at the same time as the Mountsandel dig and uncovered evidence of a similar kind.

A view of the top of the Fort at Mount Sandel

In the 1930s two small areas at the Cutts and at Loughan Island were dredged as part of a Bann drainage scheme undertaken by the Ministry of Finance and bone implements were recovered. It was assumed that these would probably have been from the Neolithic period.  Also at Loughan Island during the same operation workman uncovered a tiny bronze disc made locally and now known as the Bann Disc. Two of my friends who live beside or near the east bank of the Bann above the Cutts have also found flint tools and stone axes in their gardens and one of their husbands found a bronze age sword when digging to construct a small pond.   All these collections support other evidence that there was extensive settlement in the lower Bann valley over a long period.

 

This brings me to the object or objects which I have brought today. I live a short distance from the east bank of the River Bann and about a quarter of a mile from Mountsandel.  During the time I was involved in the course at Magee, my husband and I were involved also in growing vegetables in our garden in Coleraine and lots of digging was done!   One day I was out inspecting the potato crop and picked up what I now call a Bann flake.  It has been officially described as a ‘butt trimmed flake’ with a sharp retouched blade on the right. The butt of this blade has been well trimmed indicating where it would have been hafted to a handle.  In other words I had found a stone tool of the late Mesolithic period. Subsequently I found the other objects which I brought today –  another Bann flake and a scraper –  and many hundreds more pieces of flint in my back garden.  Bearing in mind that the entire area close to the Bann would have been forest I like to think that the people who were living here would have been using this place in the woods as a mini factory, bringing the flint by boat from the coast at White Park Bay and fashioning their tools here. Most of the finds from my garden are debitage – the by-product of flint knapping – but I have several partially finished and completed stone tools.

Some fine flint tools from Kathleen’s vegetable garden

I have had great pleasure over the years in finding these flint tools, whether completed or discarded, in my garden. They have given me a bit more understanding of the fascinating archaeology of our North Coast and when it all began. This is in no small measure as a result of the work of Professor Peter Woodman who not only carried out the dig at Mountsandel but has been an outstanding archaeologist who has written extensively about his research and produced the seminal book on the Mesolithic period in Ireland very recently.  At the launching of his book at the headquarters of the Causeway Coast and Glens Borough Council Offices in 2016 he spoke passionately about the wonderful history we have around our north coast dating from Mesolithic, Bronze, Iron Age, Medieval and right through to the Plantation of Ulster, two world wars and through to modern times.

Sadly Professor Woodman died very suddenly a few weeks ago in Cork where he had been Professor of Archaeology at Cork University. He leaves a wonderful legacy of research and scholarship about his native land and particularly about Mountsandel and the River Bann.

14th February 2017

Surviving the Lusitania but not the Easter Rising

Presented by Dorothy Chandler

Robert Mackenzie, the grandfather of my late husband Douglas ,was born on the 28^th August 1874 in Nairn in Scotland. He came from a long line of journeyman carpenters but when Robert grew up he was an apprentice grocer and eventually a Master grocer. After several moves and his marriage to Bertha, he worked in Belfast. He was introduced to the students in Belfast Technical Institute as an ‘Expert in the field of Window Dressing’   In 1912 he moved to Dublin and rented a ground floor shop in No.3 Cavendish Row, now Parnell Square, opposite the Gate Theatre. The publication ‘The Grocer’ described it as ‘The house for cooked meats, high-class provisions and Continental delicatessen’. By this time he and Bertha had a son and two daughters.

Modern view of Cavendish Row, opposite the Gate Theatre

The big adventure of Robert’s life was a trip to the United States in 1915 sailing out on the Lusitania. A relative had died there and he thought he might inherit a share of the estate. However when he got there closer relatives had beaten him to the claim. On 27^th March he wrote to Bertha to expect him home by mid April but decided to extend his stay and do a bit of sightseeing and eventually sailed from New York on 1^st May again on board the Lusitania. The liner was torpedoed ofF Kinsale on 7^th May 1915 by a German submarine. He reckoned he was the last man into a lifeboat as he had been helping other people.

A contemporary drawing of the sinking of the Lusitania

There are several stories about the incident but he a was critical of how the ship was run. “It made only 20 mph having left Liverpool 86 firemen short and doubtless a great number deserted in New York as was nearly always the case”. Apparently the only boat drill the crew got was to sling the boats in the davits overboard ready for an emergency.  This was where the boats were the morning of the disaster, there having been a boat drill the night before. Robert withdrew his criticism of the crew and their directions by the time he polished his account for the Grocer magazine. Perhaps he decided the Official Enquiry would deal with this and he might be called as a witness. This did not happen as the Official Enquiry was held ‘in camera’ to avoid the possibility of embarrassing information emerging about the presence of munitions on a civilian passenger ship, confirmation of which emerged when the wreck was inspected much later. Bertha only knew he had survived when he arrived at the front door.

World changing events again found Robert in their midst when the Rebellion in Ireland broke out in Dublin on Easter Monday 24^th April 1916.  Around noon the New Republic was proclaimed at the Post Office where the fighting became intense, extending to the north end of O’Connell Street. This was yards from Robert’s shop in Cavendish Row. Although Easter Monday was a public holiday it is likely the shop was open for business, unlike the bigger stores.  Why else would Bertha and assistant Miss Moore have been sent home; they would hardly have come in to protect the shop against damage and looting as other city centre key holders did that Monday as news of the rising spread.

1916 photograph of the devastation in Sackville Street (now O’Connell Street). Irish Times Archive

This and other information comes from two surviving undated notes from Robert to Bertha telling something of his last few days. On Tuesday 25^th Robert sent a boy with a hand written note home to Bertha giving strict instructions not to leave the house. He wrote of three men being shot at the corner near the shop that afternoon (known that week as Deadman’s Comer) a detail which fixes Tuesday as the date of the first note, written on a blank invoice. His final sentence confirms the purpose of him and Mr. Carroll, his assistant, being in the shop “we must stay to keep looters away until Military is finished”. In his second note he writes “The window was broken but no attempt yet to take stuff. If they want it we won’t prevent them and you can rest assured we are safe and sound. We expect the military with us any minute”. As rebel rifle fire inflicted a heavy toll on the soldiers, much of their advance was halted, so they did not arrive.

Robert was shot through the chest according to his death certificate dated Thursday 27^th April 1916 having died on the way to the Mater Hospital. The Irish Times 2^nd May confirmed his death at the hands of a sniper while sitting in his shop at midday but the family believe that he was shot by two looters when he would not let them into the shop. This seemed to be confirmed by his headstone in Nairn which says ‘shot by rebels in his premises’, The headstone in St. George’s cemetery in Dublin says ‘accidentally shot during the Rebellion in Dublin’

A newspaper report of Robert’s death.

When Robert died, Bertha was left to carry on a business in an Ireland in which English people and their families were very vulnerable. There was no option of returning to her family in Bury or Robert’s in Nairn. She had to keep the business open to provide for her family aged 15,12 and 10.. How could she retain customers if she advertised her husband had been shot dead resisting rebels. hence the local epitaph. She managed to keep the shop open successfully until 1930.

Robert’s descendants found closure on his life and marked the 100 years of his passing with an appropriate remembrance lunch at District One restaurant 3 Cavendish Row on 27^th April 2016 followed by the placing of a wreath beneath Robert’s name on the 1916 Wall of Remembrance in Glasnevin Cemetery.

You can find information about Robert at the official Lusitania site http://www.rmslusitania.info/people/third-class/robert-mackenzie/

 

14th February 2017

Ephemera danica and me

Presented by Lesley Wishart

Ephemera danica

Ephemerae danica have featured significantly in the lives of my family, past and present and at that  time of  year when the Hawthorne is in bloom and Queen Anne’s Lace bobs along the verges of country roads my thoughts inevitably turn to this short-lived creature.

Ephemerae danica, commonly known as mayflies hatch from eggs laid on the surface of limestone lakes in the midlands and west of Ireland. They develop into nymphs, which burrow into mud and sand on the lake bottom where they live for two years.  Sometime during the month of May depending on the vagaries of temperature and light they ascend to the surface. On a calm day and close up they can be seen wriggling out of their stick-like case to a new life, opening their wings one at a time before lifting off in an upward spiral to be taken to shore by their own effort or by the wind, whichever the greater, there to spend their one and only day as a Mayfly.

A cage for storing mayfly for fishing. 

The imminent arrival of the May Fly caused a frenzy of activity in and around our house: boat engine despatched for servicing, the last coat of paint applied to the boat, fly boxes and dapping rods recovered from outhouses, reels, new lines and hooks placed in readiness in battered fishing bags. Hillocks of crumpled raincoats, waders, picnic baskets, nets, petrol cans, blackened kettles grew in corners of the house. Being ready for the event and the visitors that came to stay was all-important.

Children were not included in the fishing ritual known as “dapping”. It was a special treat to be taken out in the boat when one was expected to sit huddled on the floor, there to remain silent as father and uncles pursued the serious task in hand. Being a boarder at secondary school during the dapping season also precluded me. Later however an unexpected illness presented an opportunity too good to decline.

A dose of chicken-pox at the age of twenty-one kept me from returning to college until the end of May. My father had passed on but his business partner, Charlie, suggested I could fish with him and his companion who turned out to be no less than Lord Longford’s gillie by the name of Hayden.  The burning question each day was, “Is the fly up?”  That year on the afternoon of May 10^th it was confirmed that it was indeed “up” when mayflies were spotted arriving, breeze assisted at Coolure shore to land as expected belly-up, wings down on the underside of the leaves of the hawthorn. Ten great days followed as each morning I set out bescarved and wearing big dark glasses to hide the spots. Charlie was a patient teacher as eager for me to catch fish as himself, but Hayden, silent and ill-humoured most of the time was the real expert. I suspected he resented my presence, female and inexpert, in his or rather his lordship’s boat.

Early mornings saw us skirt the hawthorn bushes along the Coolure shore of Lough Derravarragh picking the freshest flies, green and juicy and popping them undamaged into our fly boxes. Then with the boat packed with provisions and tackle for the day we would push off and head out between the reeds and the buoys marking the rocks in the general direction dictated by the wind for the first fall of the day. Our mood was sombre when the sun shone. Cloudy, with intermittent rain made us happy. Hayden would decide where the first fall would begin and with the boat turned broadside and the wind at out backs we mounted our daps: the point of the hook through the right-hand rusty spot below the wing of the mayfly and out through the corresponding left spot, push up and across the hook, a No.12, then the next two pierced in the same way and all three manoeuvred to snuggle up, wings and bodies in line with just enough room to squirm and so to attract the trout once on the water. This operation is easy on a calm, sunny day but then there would be no rise. The skill is being able to mount a dap when the boat is rocking in the wind, the rain is damaging the flies, the trout are rising all around and you are trembling to get fishing.

Fly fishing nowadays on a Midlands lake. 

That year there were upwards twenty boats covering the same fall, each a respectful distance behind the other. The hook bearing its tempting morsel was attached to a blowline which kept the dap a good distance from the boat. I sat at the bow, Hayden worked the oar in the centre from where it was obious he could manoeuvre his dap to pass over a trout on the take; Charlie beside the engine from such position he felt compelled to shout advice at me: “Keep your eye on the dap!” (difficult with uneven darting waves and the sun in your eyes); “Give the fish time to swallow the flies!” (Impossible or so it seemed in the heat of the moment when you’ve clearly seen them disappearing into the trout’s mouth). All too often I would strike too early and then try to hide my disappointment and frustration. After three days of missed chances Hayden took me aside. I had a sense of being accepted. We stood together on the limestone shore, a light breeze, the smell of wild mint in the air. It promised to be a perfect day, dull with showers.  “Now look here, me girleen,” he said slowly, “if you want to catch fish, here’s what you do: keep your eye on the dap and when it disappears say this to yourself, fairly slowly… “one, two, three, up deValera!” and then strike”.

Not too long after came the thrill as, following my incantation of support for the then almost blind president of Ireland, the rod bent and vibrated so much I thought it would jump out of control and the reel screeched as the trout made a run for it. Together my two companions stood up to give a crescendo of directions: “let out more line”, “ah! dammit it’s a beauty….don’t look, watch the top of your rod, keep the bend on it”, “start to reel in….slower, slower for Christ’s sake”, “bring him around to the back of the boat” “Now keep his head up, keep it up…round now over the net”  And there a second later beating at my feet a perfection of evolution brushed with silver, brown and purple.

 

14th February 2017 

 

Marathon Man

Presented by Leonard Coote

I was born in Bailieborough, Co. Cavan. A month before my thirteenth birthday I went as a boarder to Cavan Royal School. It is one of the five Royal Schools in Ulster founded by King James the First in 1608. The others are the Royal School Armagh, The Royal School, Dungannon, Portora Royal School, Enniskillen and The Royal and Prior School, Raphoe, Co. Donegal. During my four years there Rev. John Anderson was the Headmaster while his wife and three sons were also on the teaching Staff. We played rugby during the Autumn and Winter terms. In view of the small number of players to choose from we never got beyond the first round of the Schools’ Cup. In the Summer term we played tennis and, as the locals would say, we did a bit of ‘running’.

A few years after starting my Banking career I was transferred to Dublin. While there I joined Clonliffe Harriers and did my running with them at Santry Stadium, which is the main athletics stadium in the Republic of Ireland.

I was then transferred to Northern Ireland and when I married I turned to golf as my leisure activity. Just before I reached the magical age of 40 a colleague in Coleraine said he was going to take part in the Dublin marathon.

The marathon is a long distance running event. The first Olympic marathon took place at the 1896 Games in Athens, the start of the modern Era. The idea for the race was inspired by the legend of an ancient Greek soldier, Pheidippides, who ran from the Battle of Marathon to Athens, a distance of about 40 kilometres or nearly 25 miles, with the news of an important Greek victory over the invading Persians in 493 B.C. Having made his announcement the exhausted messenger collapsed and died. To commemorate his dramatic run the distance at the Olympics was set at 40 kilometres. There were 25 runners with only nine finishers.

Statue of Pheidippides near Marathon

In 1900 and 1904 the distance remained close to the 25 mile mark. When the Games came to London in 1908 the course was extended, allegedly to accommodate the Royal family. As the story goes Queen Alexandra requested that the race start on the lawn of Windsor Castle so that the littlest Royals could watch from their nursery window and finish in front of the Royal box at the White City -the Olympic stadium. This distance happened to be 26 miles and 385 yards. This random increase was officially adopted by the International Amateur Athletic Association in 1921.

The Boston marathon, first held in 1897, is the oldest annual City event. It first allowed female competitors in 1972 while the first Olympic marathon for women wasn’t included in the Games until 1984.

That’s the history lesson. Now for my experiences. Dick Hooper, an Irish national marathon champion and winner of the first Dublin City event in October 1980 set out a six month training schedule with a view to completing the course inside four hours. I followed it loosely for the first three and then stuck to it more rigidly for months four to six. In the final two weeks it was forty minutes running on days one, three and five – one hour thirty minutes on days two and four with two hours thirty minutes on day six and a rest or walk on day seven. I lived on Mountsandel Road and my daily six run took me down that road, across the new bridge and up the other side of the river towards Kilrea before turning left across the Agivey bridge and left again down Vow Road. Just past the Loughan I turned right into Warnock’s Lane and out to the Ballymoney Line and left towards Coleraine and back up Mountsandel Road to a welcome cup of coffee. This run was approximately 18 miles. You never complete the full distance in training. In the week before the event the training is tapered down. I was fortunate that I had no problems with my knees or ankles and a few blisters now and again were easily dealt with. To keep the perspiration out of my eyes I always wore a headband.

The big day arrived on 26th October 1981. In the first few miles a steady pace is best and it is important to take on water at regular intervals. At about the twenty mile mark there is quite a lot of talk about “hitting the wall”. I don’t remember this experience but I did get more tired and felt like walking but the ambition to finish within the aimed for time always took precedence. I was pleased to complete the course in three hours thirty four minutes.

The other spur during training and to complete the course was the raising of funds for charity. I was sponsored by friends and customers and I was pleased to raise £780 for the Coleraine and District Society for Mentally Handicapped Children and Adults. I even managed to squeeze £1.00 per mile from the Bank. The funds were used to help to furnish a room in a house which they had purchased in Adelaide Avenue to cater for six young mentally handicapped adults.

At this time it was difficult to obtain a place in the London marathon so I used my dual nationality to gain entry to the 1982 event on 9th May as an overseas competitor. There was quite a difference in the temperature between my training runs and the event itself but I was pleased to record a time of three hours forty six minutes. I was finisher No. 7773 of a total of just over 15,000 who completed the course. It was a great experience running past the Cutty Sark, across Tower Bridge, along the Mall and around the front of Buckingham Palace to finish on Westminster Bridge. It was also lovely to hear my greatest supporters, Pat and our two children, cheering me on at various points around the course. When speaking to Linda about telling this story she said her abiding memory of that day was in getting the autograph of BBC Blue Peter presenter Peter Duncan and he even kept her pen.

Each year around 30,000 people run the London marathon

Three weeks later on 29th   May I was on the roads again in the Foyle Festival Marathon in Londonderry. What a change of scale and a much more hilly course. I was finisher No. 120 of 391 in a time of three hours forty one minutes

In 1983 I competed in Galway on Easter Sunday 3rd April, Belfast on 2nd May and Londonderry on 28th  May. My finishing time in Galway was a disappointing four hours five minutes. However, in mitigation, it was a miserable cold drizzly day and my faithful supporter, Pat, had deserted me to care for her Aunt in America. I was very pleased to record my best ever time of three hours seventeen minutes in Londonderry.

My final two events in 1984 were in Cork on 23rd April and London again on the 13^th May where I was unable to improve on my previous time.  At this point I decided to call it a day and cut down on the time I was spending on the roads. However, I continued to run some half marathons and took part in the 10K Kaliber Exercise Challenge Series until they finished in 1988.  In 1994, while President of the I.B.O.A. (the Bank Officials Union) I took part in the Irish Congress of Trade Unions 5K run and raised £635.00 for the N.S.P.C.C.

When I came to Portstewart on retirement in 1998 I joined a friend in cycling around our beautiful North Coast and this is now my main leisure activity…weather permitting.

14th February 2017

A quote from Seamus Heaney that applies to this group!